by J. L. Beck
“It’s okay,” I lie. The hallway is long and there are a few doors, all of which are closed hiding their contents inside.
“This place is huge.” The words slip past my lips before I can stop them. I mean to say them inside my head rather than speak them out loud, but obviously my mouth had other thoughts.
“Believe me, I know. I feel bad for the cleaning ladies sometimes, I cannot even imagine the amount of time it takes to clean this place. I told Henry a simple apartment would suffice, but he demanded the best.” She grins at me over her shoulder, and then turns, pulling me into a room that looks like a professional makeup studio.
Mirrors and hair products and makeup litter every surface. There are three ladies standing in the room, with smiles on their faces, but impatience in their eyes. My mother shoves herself down into a seat and forces me to take the one beside her.
I do not fit in here. No way, no how.
Once seated, she releases my hand, and I take the moment to wipe the sweaty palm she was holding against the front of my jeans. My eyes roam over my mother’s disheveled form that I somehow missed when she answered the door. I wasn’t really looking at her then, but looking right through her.
A pink robe is wrapped around her slim frame, and slippers that say The Bride on the front of them cover her feet. Huge curlers have her chestnut brown hair, the same shade as my own, wrapped up tightly. She looks like she’s getting ready for a beauty pageant, not a wedding.
“You have no idea how happy I am to have you here, sweetie. What’s it been, three years?” She bats her long eyelashes and smiles at me. I can’t miss the fakeness of her tone, or the fact that she’s talking to me like I’m one of her Stepford house friends rather than her daughter. It sickens me, but what am I supposed to do?
“Yeah, three years, Mom,” I say, my words clipped.
My intentions when coming here had nothing to do with making my mom feel like shit for not being there for me. Sooner or later, she would realize what she had done. Instead, I set out to better my life. I wanted to go to college, wanted to enjoy life, instead of worrying about what bill we were going to pay next.
If I thought my life was hard after we moved, it became a shit storm after my mother left. This was my one and only chance at doing something for myself, and even if I had to use Henry’s money and deal with my fake mother to get it, I would. There were worse things I could be doing with my life.
One of my mother’s makeup artists chose then to appear in front of her, like a magical fairy dabbing at her face, painting on her mask. For some reason, I was uncomfortable. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong.
“Look, I’m sorry, honey. We might as well get this out of the way. Me leaving had nothing to do with you. I just needed space and time. Things weren’t good between your father and me and there was no work to be found in that godforsaken town.” She pauses for a moment as if she’s thinking over what she just said before continuing, “The past is the past though. Now we have years upon years to look forward to.”
Go figure she would be happy go lucky about this, telling me to move on from something that she didn’t have to endure. The world was full of people telling you to get over your problems, the last thing I needed was my mother joining in on the fun.
“I didn’t come here to discuss the past. It can’t be changed. I’m going forward. I just want to have a decent end of the summer, register for classes, and enjoy your wedding.” The last part was a lie. I would rather eat glass then suffer through her wedding, but it’s part of the agreement, and if there is anything you should know about me, it’s that I always follow through.
She beams at my words. “Of course. I have your dress laid out in one of the guest bedrooms that I had put together for you. Once you get settled in, you can decorate it however you would like. Vance and Henry are beyond excited to see you.”
I fidget with my hands nervously. Vance. Five years have passed since I saw him last. Back then, we were friends, middle-schoolers with nothing but time on our hands, now we would be strangers that somehow knew each other at one point and time.
I won’t lie and say I’m not curious when it comes to him. I’ve wondered about him often over the years. What he was doing? If he still ate his bologna sandwiches with ketchup and cheese?
Puke.
We might not ever agree on condiment choices, but other than that, we were friends. Upon my life falling apart, I lost someone that I considered to be my best friend.
God, life was cruel.
“The joy.” I roll my eyes. “If you’re okay with it, I’m going to go and try on that dress and put some of my stuff away.”
My mother smiles as one of the ladies checks the curlers in her hair. “That’s fine. You’ll need to get your hair and makeup done next so don’t run off. Go up the stairs and take a right, your room is the last one on the left. I’m so excited to have you here. Life’s going to be much better sweetie, you’ll see.”
Ha. I want to tell her life would be better had she not fucked up, but don’t. It wouldn’t be worth it. Instead, I get up and walk out of the room, tugging my impossibly large suitcase behind me. Home sweet home.
I get the feeling that living here is going to be anything but sweet…
Chapter Two
Vance
“I want your cock.” Sarah purrs, her big brown eyes peering up at me from her position on the floor. She’s kneeling before me like I’m her king and strangely, I guess I am. The king of orgasms. Tossing the stupid tie my father had me wear to his even stupider fucking wedding I reach for her, pinching her chin between two fingers.
She’s pretty enough, with red lips, and fuck me eyes. She’ll never be it for me though.
“And you’ll have my cock in your mouth soon enough.” I wasn’t always this big of an asshole. Tonight was different. Tonight I was on edge, hanging off the cliff by my fingernails, and all because of her.
My dream.
My nightmare.
One would’ve thought five years would be enough time to let go of the pain, of the anger, of the betrayal but seeing her again, it only ignited the barely cooled embers of hate in my heart. It didn’t help her bitch of a mom marrying my father either. That was another knife to the back, and another gallon of gasoline poured on my rage.
Flicking the button on my dress slacks, I watch Sarah’s eyes fill with excitement. I’m going to use her throat before discarding her like I do all the other girls that come and go. Fucking them is fun. Listening to them whine and cry afterward, not so much.
Shoving my boxers down, I pull my diamond hard cock out. I palm the fucker a couple times, warming him up. Pre-cum beads at the tip and a groan of pleasure resonates through my chest when Sarah’s warm mouth makes contact with the head. She sucks it into her mouth, flicking her pink tongue over the slit at the top before taking more of my length into her mouth.
Fuck, she’s like a porn star.
When she starts to suck, I’m reminded why I always call on her when I want a good fucking blow job. Because she sucks like she’s a Hoover fucking vacuum cleaner, that’s why. She makes a gagging sound when my cock hits the back of her throat, the sound sending zings of pleasure through my ball sack. For a moment I forget about my father, the man I’ve looked up to my whole life, of Laura, my new stepmother.
My thoughts catch on Ava. My ex-best friend, and new stepsister. She looks gorgeous tonight, curvy, with her hair curled, looking like a fucking angel, though she’s anything but that. She’s the devil, a fucking liar wrapped up in a tight little bow.
And even though I wouldn’t put my dick in her, I wonder if she would let me use her throat like Sarah is? Images of her on her knees before me, looking up at me with her big eyes, me punishing her with my cock, coaxing the truth right out of her pretty little mouth. My eyes fall closed and all I see is her.
Threading my fingers into Sarah’s mass of blonde hair, I imagine its Ava’s mousy brown. I hold her face right where I want it and fu
ck her throat, listening to her gags and soft mewls. I bet she’s drenched for me, just waiting for my cock to make her come, would Ava be like that? Would she be soaked with need for me? I bet she fucking would. She’s a fucking liar, but even she can’t hide the evidence of arousal.
Momentarily, I consider pulling my cock out of Sarah’s throat and fucking her pussy, but I don’t. It’s bad enough I’m thinking about my lying bitch of a stepsister while fucking her mouth.
Fuck that, not tonight. Tonight she’ll have to use one of my friend’s dicks to get off.
Thrusting my hips savagely, my head tips back and I let the euphoric pleasure overtake me. Piercing green doe eyes, and creamy white skin. All I see is Ava inside my head. With Sarah’s warm mouth wrapped around my dick and forbidden thoughts plaguing me, I fall apart, shattering into a million pieces, roaring as I explode into the back of her throat. She makes another gagging sound but then swallows around my softening length.
Fucking, fuck, fuck.
Waves of pleasure wash over me, and I take a step back, my cock falling from her red painted lips. My heart hammers deep inside my chest, confirming that it still lives there. Once the pleasure fades into the darkness, I shove myself back inside my boxers and pull my dress slacks back up. Ava’s already got a hold on me and she hasn’t even said a fucking word yet. I guess the good news is I hate her too much to listen to a word she has to say. The bad news is that my cock likes the image of her on her knees.
I can feel Sarah’s eyes on me, burning through my clothes and into my flesh.
“What about me?” She pouts.
“What about you?” I question, tucking my shirt back in. “Go ride Clark’s dick. I’m sure he’ll show you a nice time.” My response is not one she wants to hear, and she shoves from the floor wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, anger boiling over in her features.
“Why do you always have to be a dick?” she growls, smoothing a hand down the front of her pink chiffon dress. Sarah is what you would call a princess. She likes things that glitter, and people she knows her parents would hate to see her with, and though I’m not that bad of a guy, I’m not what you would call honorable either. Her country club father would never be okay with her being with me, no matter how much she wants me.
My lips tip up into a smile. “I can’t help it, sweetheart. I’m just a big ass dick. Now get the fuck out of here, and don’t let anyone see you walking out.”
She rolls her eyes at my demand but does as I say, scurrying from the room like someone lit a fire under her ass. The door opens and closes with a soft click and I’m finally left to my thoughts. Exhaling a ragged breath, I run a hand through my brown trusses. Sarah’s pretty, in fact, all of the women I’ve screwed are pretty, I’ll give them that, but they aren’t her.
Ava Wilder.
I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s fucking with my head, my thoughts, and my feelings. Her name alone feels like acid raining down on me. She’s haunted me for years, her memory digging its claws deep into my mind. Time was supposed to heal wounds, but it only made mine fester. And seeing her tonight, it ripped open every single one of those wounds. They were sleeping with hate, while blood dripped down my chest. The pain of seeing her angered me so much that I had to walk away after the ceremony.
It made me want to hurt her, destroy her. And yet there had been a time I would’ve done anything for her. She didn’t look at me like the other kids did back then, like I was some charity case. She wanted to be my friend, or at least that’s what I thought. Back then, I never would’ve touched her, or even thought of hurting her, but now… the inky thoughts consumed me. A memory from when we were kids pops into my head and I’m drawn back in time.
“Johnny said that he kissed Sierra,” I announced as we walked down the street and toward our bus stop.
Ava shrugged like she didn’t care. “So, who cares, kissing is weird.”
It was weird, but I wanted to do it, more with Ava than any of the other girls in school. She wouldn’t laugh at me if I messed up or did something stupid. We were friends, and she was there for me.
“What would you say if I wanted to kiss you?”
Her green eyes widened, and she stopped mid-step right before she shoved me in the shoulder. Those little fists of hers were curled. She was cute when she was mad.
“I would tell you to go away because kissing is gross and I would rather chew on a piece of bubble gum that was chewed on by three other people before I kissed you.”
Grinning, I tugged on her ponytail. “Good, I wouldn’t kiss you either.”
I smile faintly at the memory. That was before she was a liar, before she took everything away from me. I wasn’t sure which hurt most, her betrayal, the lies, or losing her as a friend. I forgot all about my selfish pain when she came walking into the church with a smile on her face, acting like she hadn’t done a damn thing.
Like she hadn’t ruined my fucking life. She had done nothing short of destroy my family and force us into a homeless shelter. Her lie ripped us apart. It ended my parents’ marriage. She didn’t deserve to be here, to enjoy the fucking hors d’oeuvres or drink the wine.
No, she deserves heartache, and I hope like hell, that she doesn’t plan on staying, because if she does, I’m going to break her, destroy her. I’ll send her back to wherever the fuck she came from crying, and she’ll think twice before crossing paths with me again.
Tonight I’ll give her a warning, the one and only time I will show her an ounce of mercy. Her mother may have weaseled her way into my father’s life but there is no way in fucking hell Ava’s going to find her way back into mine.
Stepsister or not, she’s dead to me.
She was dead to me the night she lied about me to her father.
A few minutes later, I leave the backroom of the clubhouse and sneak back into the reception without even a second glance from any of the patrons. I’m sure no one even noticed I was gone. They’re all much too busy gushing over Laura and her designer dress to care about me and my explorations.
Not that it would matter if they were, my father isn’t paying me any attention today anyway, matter of fact, ever since he started dating Laura a few months ago, he hasn’t paid me a lick of attention. I try not to dwell on it. It’s not like I’m a child anymore who needs his father’s affection left and right. I just don’t want Laura getting any ideas.
My gaze sweeps around the room, it looks like a bridal magazine had a baby with pink glitter in the reception area. There’s a sculpture of a swan carved from ice near the bar that’s puking wine and I can’t comprehend why my father would spend money on all this bullshit.
My eyes clash with Clark’s. Best friend and confidant, he’s been there through it all with me. Besides Ava, he’s the only one who knows me. A year after Ava left, he showed up with his father after losing his mother to cancer. We didn’t like each other right away but shared a mutual disdain for life. It was cruel and we were bearing the brunt of all of its wrongdoing. Crossing the room, I come to a stop right in front of him.
“You look like you just got laid.”
“I’ll never kiss and tell.” I give him a cheeky smile.
“No, you just fuck and tell, which means you got your dick sucked.”
“You know me so well.”
Clark shook his head. “A beer, my friend?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” I grin, taking the beer from his extended hand. We’re just shy of drinking age, but no one gives a shit and we’ve done worse things than underage drinking before. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I take a long pull of the beer and turn around surveying the room. The cold beer cools my heated inside. I can’t stop myself from seeking her out. It’s almost like we’re magnets being pulled toward each other, the pull too intense to break.
“She’s pretty,” Clark says nonchalantly.
Pretty? She’s gorgeous, out of his league but she’s like poison, killing you slowly.
“Don’t let her pretty face
fool you. She’s also a master manipulator and the enemy, the fact that she has a pussy makes her even more dangerous. She’ll fuck you if she has to get what she wants, guarantee it. So, please, don’t go there, Clark.” My fingers grip onto the beer bottle, tightening.
“Whoa, that sounds a lot like jealousy, Van. Are you jealous?” His voice is teasing, light, and I glare at him in response.
He’s trying to stir the pot and as much as I usually like his antics, tonight isn’t a good night for that shit. I’m not jealous of Clark hooking up with Ava, in fact, I don’t give a fuck who he sticks his cock in. The lying bitch can get her heart broken for all I care. But that’s all I’ll let it be is a quick fuck.
“Jealousy isn't what I would call what I’m feeling. It’s more like burning fiery rage. I want to hurt her,” I murmur, turning my attention back toward our guests.
I drink Ava in like she’s a glass of water and I’m near death from dehydration. She’s stunning, her silky brown hair falls in soft curls down her back, framing her delicate heart-shaped face. Her skin is creamy white without a single blemish. She looks like an actual princess, delicate, fragile. Her full lips are painted blood red, but her eyes look innocent, which is funny since she’s anything but that.
“Maybe fucking her would help then?” Clark suggests, and my face deadpans.
“Fucking her? Really?” I lift a brow. “I don’t think fucking her would help at all. I don’t want her lying pussy wrapped around my dick. I want her crying, not writhing in pleasure, asshole.”
Clark shrugs, taking a drink of his beer. “Then I don’t know what to tell you. What can you do that doesn’t involve physically hurting her? And plus, who knows, maybe she just showed up for her mother’s wedding? Maybe her intentions aren’t as bad as you’re making them out to be?”
Always the benefit of the doubt kind of guy. Clark has no idea what he’s talking about.
“She better hope for her own sake that, that’s all she’s here for,” I ground out.