Page 85 of Burn It Down
Stunning photos Gigi had taken had been blown up and hung on the living room walls, black and white and one full of yellows and grays. Regan had built the living room and dining room décor off that pallet and it looked amazing.
“I love it, Regan. Gigi will fucking love it.” I got choked up standing in the entryway, gazing at our new home.
“Course she will, I know what Gigi likes. Man, can we find a huge bow to tie around the place? It could literally be her gift on Christmas. Besides that rock you plan to weigh her down with.” Regan teased as she showed me around.
The dark room was set up, and bright lights and white walls made for a spacious and perfect studio next to it. The master suite on the main level was perfect; romantic like Gigi would want it, but not so feminine my dick couldn’t get hard in it.
I eyed the massive wood sleigh bed, the silvery silk curtains billowing behind it, and imagined Gigi in it. Nope, no problem getting hard in there. It was perfect, and I had to wait to share it with her.
Charli followed behind me, the two girls cooing with Tegan about the weddings and the house and Regan’s bundle of joy. Life was fucking good. Better than I thought it could be.
The people I loved most in the world were happy. I thought maybe I finally could be too.
Things were so good in my world, I didn’t pay attention to the signs. To that little green Mini Cooper I saw often. Too often to blame it on coincidence.
I didn’t notice that the roses had stopped after that night Gigi was followed. The notes too. I still got messages, and although Gigi said nothing, I think she did too.
Nothing but wispy warning smoke for the fire that was coming.
I was bringing home a little tree for my woman to decorate. I couldn’t tell her Charli had an eight foot one decorated with presents to boot at our new home. Gigi wanted a tree, she was getting a tree.
Just as I lugged the four-foot sapling up the steps to my place, I felt it. Unease. A metallic burn at the back of my throat like something was wrong.
My door was cracked open. Gigi sometimes forgot to lock it after her, but she shouldn't be home. Like an idiot, I went inside. I smelled her right away. Gigi smelled sweet and fresh, cherries and fresh laundry. Bree smelled like sticky lip gloss and cigarettes. That smell brought a wave of memories that had me doubled over.
Bree. On her knees, that smell clogging my lungs. My cock in her throat, my hands tugging at her hair. A camera flash that I barely noticed.Fuck.
I think I fucked Bree.
Another flash alerted me to a new problem. If that one was not bad enough.Bree. In my fucking apartment. I followed the trail of panties, bra, and high heels towards my bedroom.
If that bitch was in the bed I shared with Gigi, I might end up in jail before the night was over.
“I swear to God, if you're in there...." I don't know where I was going with that; of course she was.
Lying on the bed I fucked my woman in just hours ago, was Bree. Naked. Polaroid’s from a clunky looking old camera littered the bed. I saw red, my vision blurring I was so pissed off.
I stepped back instead of moving forward. I might kill her if I got close enough. That bed was getting torched once her filthy cunt was out of it.
“I’m calling the cops. Please, feel free to stay until they show up to arrest you for stalking and breaking and entering. I’m sure a ton of other shit too, you crazy bitch.” Bree spread her legs, running her hands over her body and laughing.
“Subtly didn’t seem to work. Neither of you got the hint. I don’t do subtle, not usually. I take what I want. This is me, taking what I want.” Bree’s voice was sticky sweet, but full of venom.
“Jesus, Bree. I don’t want to fuck you so you go all Fatal Attraction?” I sneered at her, struggling not to cross the room and yank her out of our bed.
“Absolutely clueless. Call the cops. I’ll wait.” Bree smirked, cupping her tits and licking her lips.
I took a good look at her as she giggled. I realized then how fucking crazy she looked. Thinner, paler than the perfect tan she always sported, and her blonde hair was tied into a messy pony instead of the waves she kept it in. Dark circles smudged beneath eyes that looked vacant. Empty completely.
Bree shoved to the end of the bed, and I took a step back. Her hands slid down her thighs as she gazed up at me. I looked away as she kicked her legs wide open, her pussy bare.
One hand shoved between her legs, the other reaching out to me. Bile bubbled up in the back of my throat at the idea of anyone but Gigi ever touching me again.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” I gritted as I slapped her hand away.
“Oh, baby. I got what I wanted from you.” Shoving up on her knees, she waved one of the photos in the air.
Bree, on her knees, a cock in her mouth. Could be any cock, I thought. Until I saw that tattoo at my hip. It was me, all right. Except, Bree looked different.
