My Vicious Demise (Demise #2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  She shoved the notebook in my face suddenly. I stepped back and scanned it.

  Did you get it before or after you texted me?

  Her eyes were narrowed into thin slits. The color gold blazed and she bit down on her bottom lip, digging into the soft pink flesh invitingly. Lust punched me in my chest. I wanted to shove her against the counter, pick her up, and take her mouth the way she took mine. After our breakfast I can only imagine how sweet she’d taste. Her tank up accentuated her curves and cupped her breasts, pointing out the fact that she was wearing a white bra. Her round tits swelled slightly over the top of her shirt, showing her creamy summer-kissed skin.

  “Well?” she demanded, forming the word so her tongue fondled the “ll”.

  An unrecognizable sense of guilt moved over me. What did I have to be guilty about?

  My silence answered for me.

  She leaned against the counter and looked like she was seeing a different version of me than the one she thought, clearly accusing me of things she’d probably accused every man of.

  I took the notebook and answered her question.

  Were you with a man when I needed you?

  She looked away. It started in the middle of my chest. A burning I’d never felt. It cooked the flesh right off my bones until I was dripping blood and fury all over my kitchen floor. I could only imagine who it was. Some frat jerk with a perfect voice who whispered her name over and over again. She probably smelled like him when I needed her. She probably silenced her phone and opened her legs for him. Kent warned me. My lips curled in disgust and I stepped away from her.

  She pointed at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  I wanted to talk so badly. To scream. To yell at her. How could you? I had two options. I could stand here and chase her away or I could leave and accept the fact that we were friends. Normally that’s what I would do. It was the correct choice. It wasn’t confrontational. Safe.

  I wasn’t in the mood for safe right now. My reply was sloppy, but still legible.

  Did he kiss you like this?

  I dropped the notebook and grabbed her face between my hands, backing us up until her ass hit the counter. I pressed my lips to hers and kissed her the way he probably did, but better. There’s no way that son of a bitch could kiss her the way I could. I couldn’t hear her, but I could still use my tongue. I pushed it between her lips and wrapped it around hers. She tasted sublime. Like coffee and vanilla cream. The taste made me groan low in my throat. The burst of lust returned full force. I wanted her right here. Right now. I angled her head in my hands and then I took her fucking mouth the way that bastard never could.

  She gave way against me. Her body was compliant and soft. Her arms reached up and she wrapped them around my waist, holding on to me. The moment I felt her give in I let her go and stepped back, bending over to pick up the notebook with blurry eyes. I couldn’t see with the blood pumping in my veins so quickly. She rested against the counter, holding her chest with her sexy mouth open in a shocked “O.”

  That was our last kiss.

  I tossed the notebook on the counter and left her there, breathing hard and in shock the same way she left me the other night, alone and confused.

  In my room I paced. Back and forth, ignoring the heaviness of my erection as I tried to shake the emotions she unleashed inside of me. This was just the beginning. Kent and Raina wouldn’t be home for another two weeks. Kent said Becca was homeless, something I felt guilty for not realizing. I should have known that was her option when I prevented her from moving into the creep’s place. The mess in her car, the clothes all over her backseat. Her duffle bag was still in the bathroom. We still had two weeks to get through this newly formed unconventional friendship. Two weeks of those golden green torture devices and her long curvy body.

  I stared down at my dick and rolled my eyes. If I got any harder I was going to rip my zipper open. Usually my pathetic sexual endeavors were enough to last me until my next one. This time that didn’t seem to be the case. The taste of her mouth and the feel of her body wouldn’t leave my mind long enough to bring me peace. Not to mention I was still on the verge of rage, wracked with jealousy in a way I’d never been.

  These next two weeks were going to be hell.

  I decided to work out. Get rid of the turmoil in my brain with sweat and pain. I changed into a pair of shorts and did push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks until I couldn’t walk, my dick wasn’t hard, and my sweat dripped down my body in sheets. I took a cold shower and then fell down on my bed and stared at the veins on my ceiling. They were throbbing, pumping life into my room. For the first time I felt like I might be feeding off of it.

  My mind raced. There was usually little stimulation in my life. I went to school, slept, ate, and hooked up with the occasional girl when the conditions were right. Never mind my sex life sounded like a fishing trip. Now there was Tess, a black eye, Becca, and the memory of my past still hadn’t fully left my body. I wanted to crawl back into my shell and poke my head out when I had to breathe.

  One thing was for certain. I had to accept Becca for what she was. If she said yes to other guys then there was a reason she didn’t say yes to me. The possibilities made me squeeze my eyes shut in dismay. She probably thought I was this pathetic loser humping her leg. I felt sick with disgust. I didn’t normally worry about being pathetic. But in this instance I refused to be pathetic again. I didn’t need her before I met her and I didn’t need her now. I slammed the proverbial door shut. The veins on my ceiling opened up and poured down on me, bathing me in its wasted life.

  If Becca weren’t here, what would I be doing?

  I rolled over in my sheets and curled up, forcing her out of my mind long enough to sleep. Sleeping was my favorite pastime. Hours otherwise spent alone were eradicated. After I lost my hearing and went to live with Uma I’d spend days sleeping in the loft over her living room with the sun on my face and the shadows on my back. I had a hard time forgetting my mother then. It took years for her image to finally fade. Her wide green disinterested eyes refused to leave my mind. I would stare into them when I could hear and wonder why she didn’t love me the way everyone else loved their kids. Uma insisted that I never knew my real mother. Addicts are difficult to get to know, because they’re not being their real selves. They’re trapped in their illness and cannot love anyone the way they’re meant to because they cannot love themselves.

  To prevent the burning in my chest from escaping, I rolled over and pressed my face into the mattress. How much of her neglect was her addiction and how much was just her? As far as I know, she did drugs my entire life. I never met the real her. I couldn’t imagine choosing heroin over my child or choosing a relationship over my child. If I ever had kids I would do everything she didn’t. I would hug them every day, kiss them when they cried, and protect them with my entire being. I would never let someone do to them what my mother allowed. My chest burned painfully. Why am I thinking about this now? It was as if something aggravated the memory like a hornets’ nest and I was running from the stings.

  My body was swollen and incapacitated.

  I jumped out of bed and wrenched my door open. The sun bled into the room from the front windows, shining gold into the living room. Becca sat on the couch drawing. The sunlight covered her entire body. She looked up at me and my breath stopped. I gripped the back of the leather couch and let her beauty chase away the darkness of my thoughts. She looked like a dark angel bathing in good light. Her cheeks were flushed and her creamy skin reflected the sun, creating a soft halo around her body. My heart calmed and my breathing returned to normal. My mother’s image was gone. In its place was a woman who didn’t want me either.

  That was why my mother didn’t protect me. She didn’t want me. The only people who cared about me were Uma and Kent. Everyone else kicked me aside. I was used to it. I wanted it. I didn’t care about many people either, so it wasn’t bothersome when they didn’t want me in return. But knowing Becca didn’t bothe
red me on a level I didn’t understand. I wanted her to care. I knew that’s where I went wrong. I wanted Becca to care, and because of that she never would.

  “What’s wrong?” her lips asked.

  I took a deep breath and then shook my head. To distract myself I looked at her drawing. It was of a pair of eyes. They were blue, almost eerily blue. Too much cerulean without enough cobalt. They looked scarred and hesitant, as if the eyes were afraid of the person drawing the picture. The lashes were long and brown, set beneath long, dark eyebrows. Becca brought her sketchbook to her chest to hide it. Her cheeks were uncharacteristically rosy. Colored pencils littered the coffee table.

  When she looked up at me the sun caught the green in her eyes and I almost grabbed her beautiful face and kissed it again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I touched my temple.

  Her face softened and she patted the spot next to her. I crawled over the back of the couch and sank down beside her. She folded her sketchbook and set it on the coffee table, and then she turned to me, looking into my eyes like she was sucking my soul out of me. Instead of hiding I stared back.

  “What happened?”

  “Memories,” I mouthed, cringing. It was as good of an explanation I would give her.

  “That’s the thing about memories,” she said. “They can be as amazing as they can be painful.”

  I nodded. She had no idea. Though I guess she could have. There was sadness in her eyes sometimes just like in Raina’s. Maybe someone hurt them the same way someone hurt me. His face was blocked from my memories. For some reason, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t remember what Mom’s boyfriend looked like. My brain protected me from the monster even now. When I was really small I would close my eyes and pretend I was someone else; a tough boy whose mother protected him and who didn’t cry so much.

  “Oh, James,” Becca’s mouth said.

  I wanted to hear her.

  Becca touched my face and rubbed her soft hands against my scruff. I guessed I needed to shave. Instead, I leaned into her touch like the pathetic bastard I was, disregarding my decision within minutes of creating it. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers, shoving my memories aside. Her lips kissed mine delicately. This time I didn’t kiss her back. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t end there. Her clothes would disappear and my condoms were all the way in my room. It was an equation that wouldn’t work. Those few steps to my bedroom felt like ten miles. Who’s to say Becca would still be here when I got back?

  Her soft, sexy lips continued to kiss me with small, delicate brushes, like she couldn’t stop, knew she should but couldn’t. I kissed her just as addictively and then leaned away. But she followed me until she was sitting on my lap. Her thighs draped over me, her hands were on my face, and her sweet lips were leaving their taste behind. I held her waist, then slid my hands up and down her back until I found the swell of her round, full ass. My palms were large enough to grab a large handful of each plump cheek. Our kiss deepened. I pressed her body against mine, wanting her closer. I needed her right now the same way I needed her last night.

  The taste of her mouth fogged my head. My tongue searched for hers tentatively. When she gave it to me I felt her body give in. She wasn’t going to stop this. She wanted it. The revelation was both shocking and incredibly satisfying. I reached up to hold the back of her head, deepening our kiss. For such a tough intimidating woman she felt small and fragile in my arms. I realized though Becca was a strong person, she may not always want to be. Life forced her to be that way. So I wrapped her in my arms and held her the way she deserved to be held.

  Suddenly breaking the kiss, her lips left my mouth and traveled over my jaw, down my throat and then over to my hickey. She kissed and sucked on my skin, leaving her mark over someone else’s. It felt strangely possessive, like branding cattle or putting a collar on a dog. My head fell back on the couch and I gave her access, letting Becca O’Connor mark me as hers. She sucked hard, biting occasionally as she ground her lower body against mine. I opened my eyes and the golden light bathed us both, encompassing us in its warmth.

  When I was effectively branded, she found my mouth and kissed me the way she did in the car. I was hers in an instant. Her fingers were under my shirt and she lifted it over my head, leaving my mouth alone for a few seconds to rip it off. Her hands ran over my chest as she kissed me, trailing over abs and down my arms. The feeling of her delicate fingers all over my body drove me crazy. I wanted my hands on her. But she stopped me when I reached for her shirt. Without explaining herself, she kissed me long and deep, making me forget her denial.

  I focused on the feel of her as she kissed down my jaw, my throat, my chest, and then sank to her knees in front of me, her tongue sliding across my abs. The pressure on my jeans was getting painful. She looked up at me from under her lashes, the sun in her gold eyes, and the dark sexual desire in them almost made me come right there. Was she going to blow me? On her knees in the living room? I didn’t know whether I should stop her or let her. Of course I didn’t want to stop her, but maybe that was the point. We were friends. I couldn’t be friends with someone after this. But then she unzipped my jeans and I forgot all argument.

  I settled into the leather couch and watched, hypnotized by the dark angel pulling my pants and boxers down my legs. She took them off my feet and then dropped the pile of clothing on the ground, staring at my erection the way one would a juicy steak after not eating for a week. The pressure in my balls was painful.

  She said something to me, but I hadn’t been focused on her mouth. I looked at it as she repeated herself.

  “Did you use a condom last night?”

  I nodded once.

  And then Becca grabbed my cock in her hand and put my swollen, throbbing head into her mouth. My eyes rolled into the back of my skull and I forgot the part where I wasn’t supposed to make any noise. I felt my moan deep from my chest. Her tongue caressed my tip, flicking around me as her lips came around me and sucked on me hard. She took me into her mouth and lowered her head over me. I didn’t know where to put my hands, so I balled my fists and tried not to come like a teenager. Her wet, silky tongue on my hard flesh filled me with unbearable lust. I want to push her away, rip her shorts off, and slam into her tightness. The sun was in my eyes, but I refused to close them. She created a deliberate, intoxicating rhythm with her tongue. Before I knew it my hands were in her hair and I was moving myself deeper into her mouth the way I wanted to move into her.

  She released me and grabbed my wrists, putting them back on the couch. She looked irritated. “I don’t need help. I know what I’m doing.”

  I grinned at her anger and surrendered, putting my hands behind my head.

  But she smiled like the sexy badass she was and then took me back into her sweet, warm mouth. She stroked my shaft as she sucked, bringing me closer to my end. I started to panic. I wasn’t going to be able to tell her I was going to come out loud. Blow jobs were hardly ever part of my repertoire.

  She looked up, sensing my distress, and then shoved my chest. “Relax,” she ordered, her glistening lips forming the word perfectly.

  So I did.

  I lost myself in the sensation of her tongue and the intense lust overtaking my entire body. I couldn’t see past it. Couldn’t feel anything but her mouth. I couldn’t hear myself, but I knew I was moaning like she was killing me. When I was about to come she pulled back and stroked me with the tip of my penis resting just in her mouth. I didn’t see myself come, but I felt it. My eyes slid closed and I succumbed. I lurched forward and grabbed for her, needing to touch her as I fell apart. I dug my nails in her shoulder and came so hard I couldn’t even remember where I was when I opened my eyes again.

  Becca was still stroking me slowly, extracting every shred of pleasure out of me she could get. She licked a bead of semen from the tip of my penis and swallowed it, giving a sexy confident look.

  I went for her and grabbed her face, kissing her. I had to. I felt lik
e my heart was hammering in my chest. My blood was pumping. My ceiling wasn’t the only thing that was alive anymore. She followed me onto the couch until I was lying on my back and she was straddling me. I wasn’t completely hard anymore, but the feeling of her pressing against me made the blood rush from my head back down to my cock. Her black hair framed both our faces as she fell over me, kissing me back as hard as I kissed her.

  The taste of me mixed with the taste of her created a dirty hint of what was to come. There was a sound coming from her. I could feel it in my lips and against my chest. She was moaning. I wanted so badly to hear her. I wondered if her voice was as beautiful as she was. It was probably husky and quiet, caressing each word out of her mouth the way her tongue did. My lips slowed, kissing her less like I was eating her face and more like I wanted to keep it. Her lips slowed as well and her body stilled its movements. She kissed me for a few more seconds before she lifted herself onto my lap and looked down at me.

  Her chest expanded under the weight of her heavy breathing. Her lips were puffy and dark pink. The lust in her gaze suggested that if we did have sex I’d probably never be able to keep up. But I knew I’d have one hell of a time trying.

  “What?” I mouthed, confused why she stopped.

  She hung her head and splayed her hands on my chest. Did I talk? I couldn’t remember whether I did or not. I was lost in the fog, lost in her. I could have said anything. I stared at her mouth, waiting for her to tell me she never wanted to see me again.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Her chest expanded faster. “But you’re so damn sexy.” The hands she had on my chest started moving over my abs. I was grateful suddenly for all of the hours I’ve spent doing sit-ups. It gave me a body she found attractive. “I want you right now.” As if she couldn’t help herself, she ground herself against me, sending a rush of desire into my bloodstream until I was drunk with it. “I could have you too, couldn’t I, James?”