Page 3 of The Cruelest Chaos
Ezra raises a brow. “You told me to distract him.”
Wow.
I realize the girl is staring at me. “Hello,” she says teasingly, “wanna play?”
Do I wanna play?Bitch, do I fucking look like I want to play?
“Get out.” I point toward the door, trying to control that simmering rage.
I think about pulling a Lucifer, grabbing the lamp on the end table, the one that’s lighting this room, and ripping off the shade. Putting the base to his fucking throat.
Goddammit I need a joint.
Ezra and the girl ignore me and my outburst. He kisses the girl’s neck. She arches it back, and even I’m momentarily distracted by her exposed throat, her eyes still on mine. She’s got light blonde hair, gathered in a ponytail that grazes her low back. Her slim thighs are spread against Ezra’s waist and I feel my dick harden as I stare at her.
Fuck.Maybe I do wanna play.
I look to Lucifer. “No, you know what?Youget the fuck out.”
He just keeps smiling, inhaling from his cigarette, his cheeks going hollow. Then he exhales from his nose and the girl groans. I hear the unmistakable sound of Ezra slapping her ass.
I reach down to adjust myself but don’t look away from Lucifer. “Your wife is downstairs,” I tell him, feigning a calm I don’t feel. “And so is London Hamilton.”
Probably true, but even if it isn’t, Sid is beautiful. It won’t be long before a drunk kid decides to try and fuck her.
Lucifer frowns. Gets his ass up from the fucking chair. “I thought she went home,” he mumbles. I see his fucking dick straining against his black jeans, and I wonder how far this would’ve went if I hadn’t stepped in. Would he have been content to watch? Would he have let this chick suck him off?What the fuck is he on?
“Get the fuck out,” I say again, anger making me feel hot all over. I’m going to destroy this girl. I hope she’s okay with that. If she’s not, I can teach her to like it.
Lucifer gives me a mock salute—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do that before in my life—and stumbles toward the door, slamming it shut behind him.
I glance at the girl. Ezra hooks his thumbs in her underwear, pulling them down over her ass, past her thighs, exposing her to me.
I can practicallysmell her.
“You in?” Ezra asks me.
The girl is staring at me with a smile.
My heart is racing, dick throbbing painfully…but I don’t trust myself with any girl right now. Or maybe I just don’t think Ezra will let me do to her the things I want to do.
Fuck.
I don’t bother saying anything. I just walk out, slamming the door shut after me.
* * *
I take a scalding hot shower,letting it beat against the torn flesh of my back. The heat and pain are enough to bring tears to my eyes, but no way am I going to let myself cry. Crying is for people who deserve it; that release.
I don’t fucking deserve shit.
I stay in there until the water starts to cool off, and I’ve nearly dug a hole in the tile of the shower wall with my fingers, trying to stave off the pain. But I manage it. I change into a white t-shirt, ignoring the way it sticks to the open wounds on my back. I pull on a black hoodie, adjust the bandana. It’s probably got flecks of Pammie’s blood on it, but I don’t care. I’ve always got blood on me somewhere.
When I’m fully dressed, I glance in the mirror and run a hand through my blonde hair. It’s cut close to my scalp at the back, longer on top and it makes me look like the sinister fuck that I am so there’s that. Hopefully only a girl that just wants to die will talk to me when I walk back downstairs.
I glance at the side of my hand, examining it for blood.
Malachi.
