Page 15 of Toxic Hope
She wanted it. She wanted it bad. Those big eyes staring straight through me while her tongue?—
Yeah, I need to stop thinking about this right now. It’s bad enough I spent the day zoning out, seeing her looking up at me at the most random times. I’m already starting to twitch in my boxer briefs by the time we go into the house, which is filling with people. She is the last thing I need to think about tonight, or ever.
But there is plenty of warm, willing meat walking through the door who would be a good substitute. Obviously, jerking offthis morning wasn’t enough to get that bizarre dream out of my system. Burying myself balls deep in a tight, hot pussy? That’s a different story.
For now, I’ll take my time, hanging out in the living room and surveying my choices for the night while my friends talk around me. “At least nobody puked on me today,” Preston grumbles. “So it wasn’t as bad, but I still wouldn’t recommend it or anything.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you would’ve deserved it a little bit if somebody did throw up on you.” Maya narrows her eyes at my brother from Tucker’s lap. “After what you did yesterday to that girl.”
“I feel sorry for her.” Elliana sits on the arm of the chair Carter is stretched out in. Like Maya, she doesn’t bother hiding her feelings, scowling at Preston. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been around very long, but I feel like I should say that. She doesn’t have any friends around here, and now everybody knows she had her wig ripped off in class. You know how mean people can be.”
“Yes. He knows,” Maya murmurs loud enough for me to hear. Obviously, the guys are too scared of their women to speak up.
“It’s not that simple,” I argue, and of course, the girls roll their eyes.
“Like you wouldn’t defend your twin?” Wren asks with a soft laugh. “Come on.”
“The situation with her is different.” I don’t care that Preston can speak for himself. “No offense, but you don’t get it.”
“He’s right,” Preston agrees in a voice much darker than mine. He’s the one getting criticized, and it’s pissing him off. Call it a twin thing. I can sort of feel the tension cranking up like a coiled spring ready to pop. “You don’t.”
“Okay, fine.” She waves her beer, shrugging, and it’s the right thing to do. This isn’t the time for her to get all up in a crusade or whatever she thinks she’s doing. “Whatever you say.”
“This is supposed to be a party.” Carter stands, grabbing Elliana by the hand. “Let’s go be hosts or something. I already hear people jumping in the pool,” he adds. Sure enough, there’s some pretty loud splashing coming from the back of the house, along with cheers and squealing.
“I could use the excuse to cool off,” Tucker decides. Good. Maya needs to cool off a little, too.
And so do I, though the pool is not going to help what’s bothering me. One girl after another walks through the room, drinking, dancing to the music blaring from the sound system hooked up to the TV. Usually, jiggling asses and bouncing tits are two of my favorite diversions. Throw in a knowing smile, and I’m ready for anything.
Tonight, it feels kind of hollow. My heart’s not in it and every time I try to distract myself by paying attention to the girls, all I can see is Emma—or at least the Emma who existed in my dream, on her knees, at my mercy. The girl can ruin things without even being here. That’s gotta be some kind of gift.
“I need another beer,” I announce to my brother and anybody else nearby. I’m not even sure why I’m here, with the mood I’m in. Like there’s always something over my shoulder, watching me, hanging on me and dragging me down. I can’t shake it.
I can’t shake her. It doesn’t matter how many warm, soft bodies are pressing against me as I make my way back down the hall through a crowd that’s getting thicker all the time. The kitchen is packed by the time I reach it, with the doors to the backyard open so people can walk freely in and out.
“Easton! We’re doing chicken fights!” A pair of long, slim arms wrap around me from behind. I don’t even know who they belong to. I only know there’s a pair of firm tits pressed against my back and a few strands of blonde hair brushing my arm.“Be my partner? I’ve always wanted to sit on your face—I mean, shoulders,” she adds with a giggle.
I should, shouldn’t I? It’s the kind of thing I’ve done more times than I can even remember. Stupid, fun shit that gives me an excuse to have a girl’s legs wrapped around me. Falling down and grabbing a few good feels underwater never hurts, either. And it usually ends up leading somewhere even better.
I should agree. I should go straight out there, strip down, and jump in headfirst.
“Or maybe I can just sit on your face instead?” The blonde slides one hand down my abs, then teases my waistband with her fingertips. “There are plenty of ways to get me wet without going in the pool.”
There’s something wrong with me. I hear her. I know what she’s saying. I feel her touch. I smell her perfume and shampoo, and all that. I should be hard as a rock, ready to go. We should be on our way to my truck right now, where I can recline my seat so she can ride my face until the shocks wear out.
But all I can do is stare out at a sea of heads and wish one of them had blonde curls. That’s all I want. To feed her my cock until she chokes on it, then force her to keep going until I’m satisfied.
“Not right now,” I decide, and at least I’m gentle when I pull the girl’s arms away from me. I don’t even know who she is for sure, and I don’t bother taking the time to figure it out, continuing through the kitchen to the bathroom. Beyond that is the garage, which seems quiet and dark. I almost wish I was in there alone so I can get my shit together.
But the bathroom will do fine for now. There’s nobody waiting—a small miracle. I waste no time going in and locking the door behind me before leaning against it, scrubbing my hands over my face. Am I sick? I’m almost wishing I was. At least I could explain away the discomfort tearing me up insides.Is it because I’m tired of all the same people doing the same shit we’ve always done? So bored that I need a distraction, even if that distraction is somebody I wish I’d never met?
Somebody Preston painted a target on yesterday in class?
Maybe he’s glad we’re not the only ones paying attention to her now, but I’m not. That was our thing. Nobody else has as much of a reason as we do to make pearls wish she was never born. I’m not trying to outsource this to a bunch of people who change opinions whenever somebody tells them to.
I’m also not trying to make her feel uncomfortable around school. I’m looking to own her for what she’s done to us. I need her to know she made the biggest mistake of her life the night she decided she would become a crusader.
Her second mistake: what she did to me in the elevator.
