Page 21 of The Bloodfeather Promise
Chapter Five
Slide me the chalk
jot it all down
outline my body
while you stand around.
Goin’ down, that’s my price
going down, take a slice.
~Seven Seconds
Greyson
Holly Hell:3:53:At the house. Where r u?
For a long, long moment, I think about not responding to the text. Shit. This is getting goddamn ridiculous. More than a little out of control. What does she think? That we’re fucking married or something?
Then, because she’s apparently made herself comfortable insidemyhouse, I grit my teeth and furiously tap out a reply. I must have a scowl on my face to rival the devil because people widely skirt the bench I’m parked on.
Grey:4:07:Town… Why r u here?
Holly Hell:4:08:Thought u might want company. Got stuff.
This ends today. I’m changing the house security code. Telling Jack this decorating job is finished. I’ll figure out my weed situation later.
Right now, I’m pissed, frustrated and horny as hell. Sitting outside Emerson’s bookstore is hardly the best thing for my mood. Every time I get a glimpse of her inside the cute, neat, and orderly store—looking all neat and orderly herself—I want to march in and snatch her to me. Rip that damned lace thing she’s wearing to pieces. Suck her nipples until she cries out my name. Then screw her right there in the front windows of her bookstore. Give all the tourists a treat. Hell, I’ll give them a show they won’t soon forget.
Shit. I’m a goddamn animal. I must be, because even the faint revulsion I saw in her eyes is not a deterrent. I want her. I’ll have her. If my infamous status disgusts her, which I’m guessing it must because she shies away from my touch like I’m carrying the plague or some shit, it’s too damned bad. I’ll just work extra hard to overcome her reservations.
Grey:4:09:Be there in 5
Holly meets me in the brightly lit foyer of my house, butt ass naked and already high. It’s a wonder this chick has any cartilage left in her nostrils as much as she snorts the white stuff.
I’m so angry, I don’t care I’m manipulated into doing exactly what she wants. I snatch her up by the arm, march her ass into the kitchen, and spin her toward the island. Shoving her forward, my jeans have just landed around my knees when she reaches back, handing me a foil wrapper. A smirk lifts the corners of her mouth. Even at this angle, I see it. This crazy bitch had a condom in her hand the entire time, anticipating my reaction.
I roll that damn rubber on, then anchor both of her hands in the small of her back to use them as leverage when I fuck her. Her head lowers to the island, a groan of anticipation echoing in the strangely quiet kitchen.
I tighten my grip, strangely irritated by the needy sound she makes.
“Greyson, Jesus …”
“Shut the fuck up, Holly. You wanted this, remember?”
She’s breathing heavily, but suddenly, incredibly, I can’t do it. My lust, my frustration, it’s all still there, but I don’t want to waste any of it with her. I can’t spill myself inside her. There is only one person I want right now. Which doesn’t make a bit of sense because any girl should satisfy me. That’s how it’s always been in the past.
All I can think about is Emerson and how badly I’d rather sink into her.
I yank my jeans back up and stalk down the hall, discarding the condom in the guest bathroom toilet.
After washing my hands, I return to the kitchen. Forcing myself to act as if nothing is wrong, I grab a beer from the fridge. I could forget it happened at all if it wasn’t for Holly. She’s still sprawled over the marble island, still wearing nothing but a puzzled look.
“What the hell, Grey?” A lash of heat bubbles in her voice.
Fuck.Holly’s temper when she’s high is combustible at best. A volcano when she’s truly agitated. I can’t risk calling the cops if the situation escalates, so I roll out the ‘bored celebrity’ attitude that’s worked in the past.
