Destroy Me (Crystal Gulf Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret them. I close my eyes and turn away, mortified in a way I don’t think I have ever been. I’m a pussy. It’s official. A crying, horny pussy.

  “Let’s make a deal.” She isn’t even fazed. She continues to torture me, sliding lower down my abs as her teeth drag against my flesh. When she gets to my zipper she rests her chin on it, making sure I’m watching. “Whenever you want to escape come to me first and I won’t leave again. No matter what you say or do or don’t do. Me first. Otherwise we can’t continue to do this. I can’t watch you pick everyone else over me and then come to me to pick up the pieces. Because I’ll spend the rest of my life picking up the pieces, Bach. That isn’t fair to me.”

  Nothing I do is fair? Doesn’t she get it? None of this is fair. “Everyone leaves, Harley. How am I supposed to believe you’re going to stay? I pushed you away once. I’ll push you away again. And again. It’s what I do.” I push people away because I know they’ll leave eventually. There’s nothing to stay for. I’d rather they leave on my terms than to deal with the pain of it on theirs.

  “I’m here aren’t I?” She unbuckles Dylan’s douchebag jeans. “You’re going to have to trust me the same way I’m going to have to trust you.”

  She pulls the zipper down, tugging on them when my hips block them. I don’t lift my ass up to help. I have to know she won’t run. “I don’t blame you if you do leave me. I haven’t given myself a reason to stay. Why should you?”

  “Lift up your hips. Do it!” she orders harshly, glaring at me. I do and she slides Dylan’s jeans down my thighs, my calves, and takes them completely off at my feet. “Because,” she says, picking up my hard cock in her delicate good hand, “I want to stay.” And then she puts me in her mouth.

  My eyes roll to the back of my head. They never do that. I didn’t even know they could. I can’t think anymore. I don’t even remember how. Harley takes as much of me in her mouth as she can. She’s not used to me. The fact that she can only fit half makes me hurt, that’s how hard I am. I want her to take it all, so I can feel where her breaths come from, where her good leaves her mouth.

  “Relax your throat,” I tell her. “Take me slowly. I want you take it all.”

  She kneels in front of me, pulling me out of her mouth. “I’ll take what I can. It’s not my fault you’re a tree trunk. Now shut up and let me suck your dick, Bach.”

  I do exactly as she says. I lay back and feel her. I want to watch, but if I do I’ll touch her, I’ll remind her it’s my dick she’s sucking. She’s very mindful of her teeth. Unfortunately. Usually I’ll rip anyone’s head off if their teeth even think about getting near my dick, but just this once I want it. I want Harley to bite me, destroy me. Her hands grip my shaft as her lips and tongue suck me. I take my hands and put them behind my head. I love this. I’m so fucking in love with this blow job it scares the shit out of me. I don’t love anything about sex. I’ve never done it and had love be the description. Lust, filth, and escape—that’s sex. This is … emotion. It feels good because I know I won’t have to leave her here with cum on her chin and no promises, and I know she’s doing it because she wants to. None of which comfort me.

  “Bach, relax. I’m not as good at it as her, but that’s only because I haven’t done it a million times.”

  I sit up and grin. “You have no idea how weird this is for me.” I laugh a little, losing my mind. Harley’s heart-shaped mouth near my dick is sending me into a part of my brain I’ve never gone before. “Don’t stop. I love it. I love it more than all of them combined. I’ll relax. Just tell me you know who I am. Tell me it’s my dick you’re sucking.”

  “I’m … ” She flicks her tongue against the head of my penis, causing my back to arch. “Sucking … ” Her tongue traces the hard length of my cock, pausing near my balls to lick those too. I moan, unable to hold it in. It’s never felt this good before. “Bach’s … ” Up she goes, twirling her tongue around me like I’m the best damn tasting lollipop she’s ever had. “Dick.”

  “Whose?” I breathe, gripping the sheets.

  “Yours, Bach.”

  I relax. I lean on my elbows and watch the angel take me into her mouth. Even her blow jobs are sweet. She looks into my eyes sometimes as she switches from sucking to licking, sending me her own pleasure. It’s honest pleasure. It comes only from her. Seeing myself reflected in her golden eyes would usually ruin it for me, but this time it’s what sends me over the edge. Because those are Harley’s eyes. I want to see myself reflected in them.

  When I come my entire body seizes. The second the power’s cut back on I jerk and whir, making sounds I’ve never made before. I squeeze my eyes shut as light explodes behind them. Sweat drips down my face and my heart’s racing in my chest. Pleasure, honest pleasure, overtakes my body. For one short second I lose focus on my surroundings. I’m succumbing to the emotions demanding my soul. I hand it over willingly to her. She can have it. It’s hers anyway.

  “Wow,” I moan, running a hand over my face when I can focus once again. “That was fucking beautiful.”

  “Beautiful?” She laughs lightly, wiping me off with a towel. She slides the cloth over my penis, abs, and thighs where my semen coats my skin. After I’m clean she wipes off her hand too, then slowly crawls to me, sitting right on top of my dick like she just claimed her throne. “Not the word I would use to describe it.”

  I reach up and grip her head, bringing her mouth down on mine. I want to taste her now. Taste her after she tasted me. I savor her lips and tongue for a long time, losing myself once again in this woman, until she’s the one grabbing the sheets begging me for something she deserves. I roll her over and switch her mouth for her inner thigh. I kiss down her soft heated skin as she writhes against me. I’ve never been this excited to taste someone in my entire life. I’m like someone on their birthday. And Harley’s the present. I unwrap her with the same enthusiasm I would a gift. When I get to her panties I rip them off in one quick movement. They’re just in the way anyway.

  I have to stop and stare at her pussy, struck by how…mouthwatering it looks. Smooth bare folds dampened by her moisture. She shaves her pubic hair completely. There’s nothing in my way, nothing preventing me from sliding my tongue between her folds.

  “Bach,” she groans in agony. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I just want to look at you.” I grab her hips and slide her closer to my mouth. “I’m done looking now.” I guide my finger down the middle of her from her clit to her entrance, making her jerk and moan. The sound of her sweet sexy voice moaning because of what I’m doing to her, to this woman I can’t have, but am having nonetheless, is almost my undoing. She’s so wet my finger slips inside of her with ease and her tightness clenches around me.

  I know she needs this. I can taste her when she’s done. Her pussy’s so tight I think one finger should be enough. But I slip one more in anyway, so I can feel her stretch. I watch the way her back arches and listen to her moans of pleasure as I move my fingers in and out of her. But I’m greedy. I want to give her more. I slide a third finger in. I want to taste her so damn bad. Her wetness coats my fingers, glistening in a way that makes my dick painfully hard. I want to feel it all over me. I want to spread her legs apart and shove my tongue where my fingers are. Fuck it. I take my fingers out and replace them with my tongue. She tastes better than I imagined as I stroke her with my tongue. Her thighs grip my head, her fingers rip at my hair, and my dick’s hard as a rock. If I don’t make her fall apart now we’re going to have sex. We can’t have sex now. She doesn’t deserve it with puke in her living room.

  When I slide two fingers in along with my tongue massaging her clit she convulses, breaking, spinning toward her orgasm. I don’t stop even after she lays there panting. I clean her with my tongue. When she’s wet with only me I have to kiss her again. I want her to taste herself. She winds her fingers in my hair, pushing my tongue deeper into her mouth so deep all I feel is Harley.

&nbs
p; All I ever want to feel is Harley.

  My body rests between her legs. If I shift just an inch it’s all over. She’s ready too. She’s perfectly ready for me.

  “Please, Bach?” she whispers against my lips, trying to wiggle her hips against me.

  I lift up on my elbows. “Remember who I was with last night.”

  Fire replaces the lust in her gaze. “Why did you do that?”

  “I’m not making love to you when your living room is covered in last night’s fuck up.”

  Her eyes soften. “Do you want to make love to me?”

  I lean over and kiss right near her ear so I can’t see the look in her eyes as I talk. “I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life than to make love to you right now. But we can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if it’s just sex like with every other girl?” I ask honestly. “What if it feels the same way with you that it feels like with them? That would be the worst thing I could do to find out that this is all sex is. An emotionless desperate action that never means anything.”

  “Was that just sex?” she demands. “The way you felt, how I felt, was that just sex?”

  “No,” I admit, meaning it. It was far more to me than I think it even meant to her. “I don’t know how to explain it, Harley. I’ve never had sex with someone I … ” I rest on top of her, hiding my eyes again. Since when does Bach Bachmen hide? “Like you,” I finish. “You don’t want what those other girls do from me. I don’t know how to give you what you want.”

  “This is what I want, Bach.” She wraps her arms around me, but her tone is disappointed. “This is all I need. Really,” she adds, a smile evident in her voice. “I can’t feel my legs. If we had sex I’d probably be bedridden for a week.”

  “I’d carry you.” I move to lay on top of her, allowing her to hold me. “Will you leave?”

  “Will you come to me first?”

  “I promise to try. I can’t guarantee anything. When I want to run I run. Nothing can stop me.”

  “I stopped you.”

  “This time.” I can feel her harden beneath me. I grasp her cheek and turn her to me so she can look into my eyes. “I don’t mean to be an asshole. But I am one. There’s no denying it. I’m just being honest. I fuck up. I do shit that pisses you off. I’m going to piss you off. I’m going to disgust you. I’m going to make you hate me. It’s what I do. If you want to come first you’re going to have to understand that a lot of people came before you, that I let them, and that it’s going to be hard not to let them again.”

  She reaches over and covers Justine’s hickey with her hand. “I understand.”

  The fact that she doesn’t want to see what Justine did to my body proves she doesn’t understand. I’m going to hurt her again, I know it, and I can’t stop it. I’m like a train barreling toward a wall. I hit it every single time. “Why do you want this? I’m the worst thing that can happen to you. Don’t you get it?” I scream, pissed off that I’m the train and Harley’s the innocent passenger inside. I’m going right for the wall and she’s going with me. We’re both going to get destroyed.

  She doesn’t even blink. She reaches up and kisses me tenderly. “I get it. Trust me, I get it.”

  She doesn’t get it. Why doesn’t she hop off and let me hit the wall by myself? Why do I want her to come with me? Why do I want us both to blow up together? I look around her room for a wood chipper. Where’s the fucking wood chipper? Why does crashing with her make crashing by myself less terrifying? I let her go and get up. “You can’t come!” I yell at her, knowing I’m not making any sense. It makes sense to me and that’s all that’s ever mattered. “You have to stay good. You have to stay the way you are. Right now. Plus you’re still in love with Dylan. I’m still an asshole. I hate trains.”

  “Me first,” she reminds me, crossing her legs casually on the bed.

  I stop with my hands on my zipper. “You first,” I remind myself. That’s what I thought I was doing. “Harley first.”

  I lean over and pick up her thong. The fabric is torn. “It’s ripped. Was it as fun as you imagined?”

  “Better.” She lets her legs fall open, showing me how much fun she had. I stare at her pussy, wanting it. She knows I’m trying to run. Like a magnet I fall back down on the bed. She rolls over into my arms.

  Harley first.

  “I really should go.”

  “You really should stay.”

  “You need some Bach free time.”

  “I only want Bach time.”

  “You’re still in love with Dylan.”

  “I’m not in love with you.”

  She had to go there. “That’s good to know. It’ll make this easier on both of us when I fuck up again.”

  “I care about you, Bach. You drive me crazy, in a sexy and maddening way. I don’t understand why you do half the things you do. But I want to understand it. Look,” she says, pulling back to meet my eyes, “I’m not asking for forever. We barely know each other. I’m not asking to be your girlfriend or for you to marry me. I am still in love with Dylan. I’m pissed. I’m mad. I’m hurt. He betrayed me. I don’t want to be in a relationship right now either. I just want to have fun with you. No pressure. We can help each other. I think right now we need each other. You take my mind off of Dylan. I hope I can take your mind off of whatever you’re dealing with. Together we’re not perfect, but we’re worse by ourselves. Okay?”

  I feel a lot of things after hearing her say that. Some of them good, some of them bad. Some of them make me want to make love to her right now. Some of them make me want to leave her here forever with her love for Dylan. Why does she still love him? He lied. He’s a liar. But mostly, when it comes right down to it, I just want to say okay. “Okay.”

  “Let’s get out of bed. If we stay I’ll stay naked. Get more naked.”

  I watch her grab another pair of panties out of her drawer and slip them on. Then she grabs her shorts off the floor. I don’t remember throwing them. “You have a shirt I can wear?”

  “No. I like you half naked. Let’s go. Unless you want to sleep some more?” She pauses with her hand on the door.

  Like I can sleep right now. I shake my head and follow her out of her room. Last night comes flying back to me. It never left. Harley just made it seem like it did. Somehow knowing she can give me a break even with the shed still on fire makes me want to kiss her. But I can’t. She’s still in love with Dylan. She just wants to have fun with me until he gets home. Then he’ll get her good. He’ll get to keep her, see her change people’s lives. I’ll still be in that shed. Burning. I hate the smell of piss.

  “Bach.”

  I look at her, my eyes leaving the puke in her living room.

  “Me first.”

  Harley first. I clear my throat. “I’m kind of hungry. You want to order something in while I clean this up?”

  She smiles patiently. “It’s only six in the morning.”

  Damn. We were “not” having sex for four hours?

  “We can go to breakfast.”

  Eh … “You mean leave the house before noon?”

  “Yeah. A lot of people do it. It’s called being a normal functioning human being.”

  “Well that explains why I’ve never done it.”

  Her eyes roll. “Come on. It’ll be my treat.”

  “What did your date do?”

  She looks away, biting her lip. “I’m so embarrassed I don’t even want to talk about it. It was a joke from my roommate. He was a joke. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Oh really?”

  “We’re just having fun,” I remind her, being an asshole again. “Do you have a bucket?”

  I give her a look when she tries to help. This isn’t her puke. She shouldn’t have to see it, smell it, let alone clean it up. It takes me almost an hour to clean it out of the couch and from the carpet. Each time I find a new spot I get madder. By the time I�
�m done, I’m pissed. Harley watches me the entire time. She sits on the counter with a cup of coffee, her sexy legs swinging casually. I stomp into her kitchen to wash my hands.

  “You need to move in with me. You don’t even have hot water.”

  “I can’t move in with you. What would my roommate do?”

  “Who cares about your roommate?”

  “After Bobby I’m having a hard time.”

  Bobby. The idea of them together makes me want to break something. “Let’s go eat. I should have a shirt in my trunk.”

  Stepping out this early makes my eyes burn. There’s a layer of fog over the town. It hovers in the air, giving the world a hazy unmoving view. I’ve never left a house this early, with a girl, because of a girl, for a girl. Mornings are meant for puking and hangovers. Technically, I already did that last night. This morning I get Harley.

  “Where’s your car?”

  I scratch my head. “I don’t remember … ”

  There’s a visitors parking space in her apartment complex. I always park there. But my car’s not there. I can’t even remember driving here. We walk the complex, searching every parking spot there is. It isn’t there. It isn’t even on the street.

  “I drove here?” I ask, trying not to laugh at the confused expression on her face. This really isn’t funny.

  “You said you did.”

  “I don’t remember anything.” That’s a lie. I remember falling apart at the shed, but I’m not going to tell her that. After which the night is a complete blur. The next thing I remembered was looking up into Harley’s eyes as she opened her door. Why would I want to change that memory?

  “Use your alarm. Keep clicking it until we find it.”

  She’s determined to find my car. I follow her around her complex all over again, pressing my alarm repeatedly until we hear a response. She takes off in its direction. When we find it Harley turns around to look at me with her mouth hanging open.

  “Bach.” She shakes her head.

  I double over, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. I’m parked in the pool area right over the Jacuzzi. I can’t even figure out how I got in here. My door’s open and the smell of scotch is evident even from over here.