Page 44 of Psycho Boys

Now sitting here reflecting on that phone call, just thinking about his death gets me hard and horny, and before I know it, I'm beating my cock like a fucking redheaded stepchild, alone on the couch while the others are sleeping soundly.

As I feel my cock pulsing against the palm of my hand, a firm grip feeling like Cali's tight pussy, I stroke faster, wanting to come before someone comes out and interrupts me. But there's no rag, shirt, or napkin I can use to come into, only a barely eaten vanilla pudding cup on the table in front of me. So I grab it, pushing my dick into the thick, creamy pudding, filling it with my cum. And of course, I put the lid back on and set it down when I'm done, secretly hoping someone decides to eat it, unknowingly mixed with my fucking cum.

And as if on cue, Five stumbles into the living room, rubbing his bloodshot eyes high out of his mind. He sits on the couch, licking his lips as his eyes lay on the cum-filled pudding cup.

“Is that yours?” He asks, smirking.

I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “Nah, Cali's, but she's done with it.”

He snatches the cup and picks up the spoon beside it, generously scooping the pudding out and shoveling it into his mouth, all while I sit here and grin, fighting sleep, knowing he's eating my cum. Serves him right for trying to steal my girl.

Exhausted and feeling somewhat lighter, I rise from the couch, turn all the lights and leave the TV on, and stagger down the dark hallway to my room, my body needing sleep like it needs air to fucking survive. I collapse on my bed without pulling down my blanket or taking my shoes off, my eyes heavier thanthe burden I've been bearing for the last fifteen years. And before I know it, darkness engulfs me, and my mind goes blank for the first time in a long fucking time, allowing me to succumb to the sleep I so desperately fucking need.

When my eyesfinally flutter open, I’m greeted by a veil of hazy twilight dancing outside my bedroom window as the sun gracefully bids farewell to another day, leaving me momentarily disoriented. As I sit up, I realize I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on the day before—shoes and all. Is it still the same night? Or have I truly slept an entire day away?

The answer comes striding through the door as Calista enters, exuding effortless beauty while looking sexy as sin in tight black jeans that perfectly hug her ass paired with a black cropped hoodie that boldly proclaims "Always Lilith, never Eve" across the front. Her fresh black and red Converse perfectly complete the look, the red popping against all the black. Her platinum blonde hair is styled into two tight French braids, half-hidden beneath a black snapback turned backward, and in this moment, she has never looked more stunning, even in such a simple, unflattering outfit. It’s the aura of confidence that radiates from her that draws me in, igniting a craving within me like an addictive substance I desperately need to ease my pain.

“Get up, sleepyhead,” she chirps, heading straight for my closet to rummage through my clothes. “You’re coming with me tonight, Killian, and we’re going to have some fucking fun.”

She tosses me an all-black outfit to match hers before digging into the depths of my closet and pulling out two masks and an empty backpack.

“Where are we going? And did I really sleep the whole fucking day?” I ask as I begin to change, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the window, casting a warm glow around her, as though she has a radiant aura.

“Oh, you definitely slept the entire day away,” she teases, laughing lightly as she looks up from the bag, her smile infectious. “And since Five took Ash and Dominic to a race, you’re coming with me to check another name off my list.” She winks, casually tossing in my gun, her zippo, a bottle of lighter fluid, and a few knives, along with a camera, gloves, the masks, and a change of clothes for both of us.

“I thought only our fathers and your parents were left on the list,” I say, hastily getting dressed, a wave of exhilarating anxiety bubbling up inside me.

Calista shakes her head, setting down the bag before striding over to me. She pulls me up from the bed, her fingers intertwining with mine, gripping my hands tightly. Rising slightly on her tiptoes, she reaches up with one hand to cradle the back of my neck, capturing my lips in a commanding kiss that signals she’s in control tonight. And honestly? I’m more than fucking okay with it.

After teasing me with her tongue and drawing the warmth from my mouth, my spit coating her lips in a shiny gloss, she locks her gaze with mine, savoring the moment as she sensually licks my spit off her lips. Her black acrylic nails glide down the front of my body, igniting a pleasurable shiver that resonates along my spine to my tailbone, making my entire being ache only for her.

“No, Killian. Gunnar and Holden Graham are still on the list, and then it’s just our parents,” she states, rising on hertoes again to capture my lips in another kiss—this one slow and sensual, deepening my love for her beyond what I ever thought possible.

But damn, I can’t help but love her fiercely. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I know I’m in a silent competition with Dom and Ash for her affection, but with Five in the picture, it’s terrifying to wonder if she feels for him what she does for us.

Gently, I slide my hand under her chin, cupping it with my fingers, while my other hand finds its way to her waist, pulling her closer and coaxing a moan from her that I savor as our lips meet again, our eager tongues dancing in a thrilling duel for dominance and control. She pulls away first, tugging on my bottom lip and flirtatiously growling as she licks the taste of me off her lips.

"Come on, we need to get going," she flatly states, swiping the backpack off the floor and slinging it over her shoulder.

My eyes focus on her ass as I walk behind her, hugged tightly in her black jeans, which form to her curvy physique perfectly. She snatches the keys to her car that Five got her and pulls her hood over her head as we walk out the front door, heading in the direction of the back exit to avoid any chance of someone watching and following us.

Once we're safely in the car and driving with purpose down the busy street, I turn up the volume on the radio and let the bass from Tech N9ne vibrate my seat, giving me a light massage that eases the tension in my shoulders. I glance over at Cali, her hand resting on my thigh, her eyes fixed on the road in front of us. The setting sun paints her face in hues of orange and gold, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbone and the soft line of her jaw.

She's a beacon, a constant in the chaos of my life, a grounding force in the storm. She doesn't say much during the drive, but her presence is more than enough. Her understanding, asilent reassurance, has been a silent strength I so desperately needed when I didn't even know it. Cali remains my rock, her unwavering support a constant source of strength.

We talk little about the impending event of our parents murders, but our shared understanding is palpable—a silent pact forged in the crucible of shared trauma and emerging triumph.

The following silence between us is comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared emotions. There's no fear, no regret. Only a quiet anticipation, a sense of peace. The sunset surrounding us as we drive is breathtaking. The sky blazed with color, a vibrant tapestry of orange, pink, and gold. It's a beautiful, fitting end to a long, dark chapter. And as I look at Cali, her hand in mine, I know that the future, though uncertain, holds the promise of a life lived on our own terms, a life finally free from the shadows of our parents. The ghosts will soon be gone. And fuck, we'll finally, truly, be fucking free.

The car pulls up to a dark two-story house with a white picket fence on the outskirts of town, its darkened windows reflecting the fiery sunset. The air hangs heavy with the scent of damp earth and something metallic, a faint tang that prickles my nostrils. Calista kills the engine, the sudden silence amplifying the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of my own heart. She doesn't speak, her hand tightening momentarily on mine before she releases it to reach for the door handle.

"Let's go," she says, her eyes glazed over and glued to Holden's house that almost looks abandoned.

We move with practiced efficiency, Calista leading the way, her movements fluid and silent. Managing to slip in through the unlocked basement door—she knew it was unlocked—she puts her finger to her lips to make sure I stay quiet.

The air inside is thick with dust dancing in the weak light, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboardsunder our feet. The odd smell of decay is strong, mingling with the metallic scent from outside.

"He's upstairs either in his office or his bedroom," she states, focused and more determined than I've ever seen her. "Put your mask on."

---