Page 51 of Getting It Twisted

Daniel walks toward us. Ennis greets him with a nod and gestures in my direction.

“You keep an eye on this one, boy. And you,” he says, addressing me again. “Remember what I told you.” At that, he purses his lips and gives a sharp, shrill whistle. Jagger bolts to his side, and they both disappear into a dark swatch of trees.

“What was that about?” Daniel asks.

I grip his hand and start pulling him toward the house. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, work needed me on overtime. I texted you, but I guess you didn’t check.”

“Phone’s inside,” I say, distracted by the pulsing beat of my own heart. “Come on.” As we step up the porch, the door seems to tilt in front of my eyes, and a wave of anxious energy surges through me.

“Here.” Daniel hands me something wrapped in wax paper. “From Sidney’s.”

“Right,” I say without making a move to take it. There’s a more pressing issue at hand: a dark and vicious thing, bubbling up from places better left alone. It tightens my throat, blurs my vision, and sends images flashing through my mind.

I don’t think about that stuff. The old shit. From before. My mother, my childhood. Nothing more than surface-level anyway—memories that don’t sting as sharp or as vivid. But Ennis knocked on the firmly shut door within me, and now clawing fingers are trying to pry it open. I need something to shut itagain. I need to narrow my reality down to one pinpoint-sharp focus.

As soon as we’re both inside, I pounce, slam Daniel into the door and kiss him hard and full on the mouth. Clutching his shoulders, I press our bodies close and lick along his lower lip, tasting the salt and grease from Sidney’s fries.

“What about the burger?” he asks, voice muffled between our lips.

“You can feed me later.”

I want him. I want him now. Darkness presses in on me, but I know just the thing to repel it. It always works, never fails to give me what I need.

Daniel gets his hands on my shoulders, pushing me gently back. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you think?” I kiss him again and press my palm to his crotch. “I’ve wanted this all day. You took forever. Come on.” I take his hand again and lead him toward my mother’s bedroom, but at the last second, I change my mind and steer us into my old boy’s room instead.

“Here? But—”

“Shut up.”

I push him onto the narrow twin bed and unzip his pants. When I get his cock into my mouth, his hesitation dissolves, and before long, I have him groaning and grabbing at my hair.

I tear my shirt off. He gets rid of his own clothes, and soon enough we’re naked, with him crowding me up on the bed, kissing me.

“Turn around,” he says, voice husky with arousal.

I roll onto my stomach.Yeah, go ahead. Fuck me the way you did before . . .Use me as your hole, rip me apart, wreck me. Cover me in cum and spit in my face. Hurt me, hurt me . . .

But what I feel instead is his kisses on my neck. Slow and unhurried, he makes his way down my spine, and I shudder withthe pleasure-pain of him kneading the sore skin of my ass. He parts my cheeks, opening a path for his tongue to slide over my hole.

I can’t help but squirm. People rarely do this to me, and for some reason, I have a hard time relaxing when they do. I twist my neck up, and my eyes fixate on a scratch on the windowsill. A memory resurfaces—voices this time. Voices, and loud music. The crack of a beer can. Laughter. A breath hissing by my ear . . .

“Relax,” Daniel says, bringing me back to the present. “I want to open you up.”

I bury my face into the pillow, shut my eyes, and give a muffled, “Okay.”

He grabs onto my hips and tilts my ass into the air until I’m halfway on my knees. He groans as he buries his face between my cheeks, licking into me. Bit by bit, he coaxes me open. His thumbs pry my cheeks apart as he pushes the tip of his tongue past my tight rim.

“Wow,” I gasp, “that feels . . . so fucking good.” I rock my hips and try to lose myself in the warm, wet swirl of his tongue. Something blunt presses into me—his finger, thrusting in and out while his tongue moves alongside it, maddeningly slow. I whine and rock my hips back and forth, trying to get more friction, more pleasure, more pain, more, more, more.

He pulls back and snaps open a bottle of lube. The cold drizzle into my crack makes me shiver with anticipation, and with a deep, dark hunger I can’t make sense of.

“Do it,” I grit out, pushing my ass into the air, baring myself to him. “Daniel, please.”

“Turn around.”

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