"Get the fuck up and out of my sight, whore. Your services are no longer needed." She rises once more like a damn Jack-in-the-Box, and almost trips, going down the steep metal stairs in the stupid platform heels she's wearing.Fuck, I really have to make better choices, or at least pick the ones with half a working brain cell to fuck.
A large body slides into the space next to me with a grunt, and I turn to glance in his direction, noticing how unruly his hair has become as the day has progressed. A sure sign of shit not going as planned, and that he's been dragging his fingers through the dark blond tresses ruthlessly. "Not up to your usual standards?" Cross questions with a smirk, and a nod toward a fleeing Kelli.
I tear my gaze away from him, knowing full well that nothing good will come of my staring at him when he's on the edge like this. "You suck better cock than she does… care to take her place?" I question with a drawl, as I put my softening cock away.
"Not a fucking chance. You know full well I won't get on my knees for you or anyone. I'll gladly fuck your tight ass, though, if you feel like bending over for me." His words have their desired effect, and my cock, which couldn't stay hard for Kelli, now rises again to attention, tenting my pants. My glance tracks the movement of his tongue, as it comes out to swipe his full bottom lip, and I have to swallow the moan that rises up my throat. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, too, and the corner of his lip ascends in a teasing smirk.
"Don't make offers you have no intention of complying with, asswipe." I turn my glance back to the field, and watch with amusement as Damon picks up a two-hundred-pound lineman like he weighs nothing, and throws the fucker down on the grass with a crash and a menacing roar, before tackling another of his teammates. "Does he look more worked up than normal to you?" I question, and Cross turns his observant gaze in Damon's direction, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny at the demented psycho completely losing his shit on the field. He's got to be high on something. Who throws bodies around like that if they're not?Oh, wait, Damon does, cause he's an unhinged bastard.
"He's hiding shit again, and drinking more than usual, so I'm going to assume his father's back in town again," Cross replies with frustration.
Shit,if Arline Morell is back in town, that's bad news for everybody, but especially for Damon. The fucking guy has a hard-on for getting in his unstable son's face, and pushing all of his buttons. He also has a penchant for beating Damon's mom when he's not around. The thought runs through my mind that we should have put a bullet through that fucker’s brain years ago.
"No point in thinking of ways to kill him, River. You know he's untouchable, no matter how much of a sadistic cunt he is."
I groan and shove my shoulder into his. "You don't know that's what I was thinking. You're not a fucking mind reader, Cross." Don't get me wrong, we’re not good guys. Everything orchestrated today alone demonstrates that with flying colors. We just don't like anyone to touch what's ours, and we tend to protect our own. Plus, Damon's mom has made us cookies since we were little, so she's an angel in my eyes, and I can't stand to see her covered in bruises.
"I can read you like a two-bit porn star with a meth addiction about to agree to a gangbang, bitch. You project your thoughtsloudly on that pretty face of yours."Fucking asshole, I do not.No point in arguing with him, though. He's right, the point is moot. Cross' dad controls Mayhem with an iron fist, and Arline has been by his side, doing his dirty work, for longer than we have been breathing.
I release a weary sigh, annoyed that although we've accumulated a lot of power here in Soule in the last few years, it's still not enough to topple Cross and Damon's dads. "Speaking of pretty faces, Livy was in my psychology class. Now, why would she be taking that, when she's getting a degree in Kinesiology and sports medicine?" Yeah, we did our research; nothing happens at this school, or in this town, without us knowing about it.
Cross pries his amused gaze away from Damon, who's now furiously fist-fighting not one but two of his teammates, while the coach and two other large receivers try to break it up. We should probably go down there and help stop him, but it's far more amusing being spectators. Cross' glance meets mine with surprise. His molten chocolate eyes pierce into mine with their intensity, and cause a shiver to skate down my spine. Huh, Mr. Know-it-all didn't know about his new precious stepsister's wanderings.Interesting.
"She's in Rawdon's class with you?" I see the shot of rage overtake him immediately; if anyone hates that fake fucker Rawdon more than me, it's Cross.Playtime.
"Sure was, and he took an interest in her." I know I've just struck a match, and lit a fire under his unhinged ass. I should feel guilty 'cause I know how he's going to react, but see, that's exactly why I did it. I want to play with my food, and Livy, well, she's a tasty treat I'm aching to consume.
The image of her naked in the shower last night pops up in my mind. All that soft, creamy skin on display, with those sexy as fuck tattoos on her abdomen, arm, and back, had me hard as arock, and my mouth watering behind my mask. The fact that she didn't react like a typical frightened woman would, presented with three masked psychos threatening her, and was ready to fight all three of us, was a cherry on top of the proverbial sundae. I almost disobeyed Cross's order to stay silent and not touch her. He wanted to see how she would react, and whether she would be a viable source of amusement while living in his house. We all know she and her mom won't last long there. Gerald Weyburn is on his fourth or fifth wife at this point, and none of them make it more than a few months, before running for the hills, disappearing, or dying of mysterious causes.
"Is that so? Perhaps it's time we went and introduced ourselves properly to my new little sister." He gets up abruptly from the bench, and starts taking the stairs down to the field without a single glance back in my direction. I rise and follow him, after adjusting my hard cock with giddy anticipation flowing through my veins. This is going to be so much better than a blow job. An image of a naked Livy, with her arms tied behind her back, on her knees, staring up at me defiantly, has a moan escaping my lips as I squeeze my cock through my pants.Fuck, I need to make that a reality asap.
When Cross reaches the field, he doesn't even hesitate to stroll right onto it and grab Damon by the neck, forcing him away from the teammate whose face he's rearranging free of charge. "Let's go, fucker, we have somewhere to be, and that cunt needs to live, unless you want to be in a cell tonight." He passes the enraged coach, and gives him the finger, before nodding his head in my direction that I should follow Damon into the locker room, to keep him from injuring any more of his teammates.
"What the hell, Cross, I was enjoying myself!" Damon reaches down, grabs his helmet from the ground, and thrusts it into my waiting hands, as he angrily storms after Cross'departing form. "What the fuck crawled up his miserable ass?" Damon inquires as he ties his dark, sweaty hair up in a messy bun, that makes him look half insane, half a wet dream.
"Livy.She was in Rawdon's class, and he took an interest in her." I wag my eyebrows at him with mischief.
"OH FUCK! Does that mean we get to fuck that bitch up now? My head is still pounding from the headbutt she gave me earlier," he growls, and I chuckle at his pitiful expression.
Damon is a sore loser when he doesn't get his way, in fact, he's an enraged toddler with an expensive coke habit, and a drinking problem. Let's not even start on the rage issues, and all his mental health problems. The fucker was diagnosed as a sociopath when he hit puberty, and I’m pretty sure he has schizophrenia. Does he sometimes scare me?Sure.Do I think he could kill me one day in a blind rage, and perhaps not regret doing it?Possible.Have I watched him decapitate a man, and then fuck the decapitated head, out of sheer rage?Hasn't everyone done that at least once?Are he and Cross not only my best friends, but also my family, and would I do anything to protect them?Absofuckinglutely.
Damon, Cross, and I make no apologies for who and what we are. We areMayhem, and in Soule, Massachusetts, that means we are princes waiting to take the throne, and the grim reapers you don't want banging at your door. "I'm pretty sure Cross is finally going to let us play with his new sexy sibling."
Damon speeds up his steps to an excited jog. "Hurry the fuck up, prick," he calls back over his shoulder, and a huge, unhinged grin splits his blood-splattered face. "I call dibs on her tight ass. I'm gonna fuck that bitch without lube, so I can hear her scream!"
Poor, sexy Livy has no idea what's about to befall her. She's about to get a train run on her, because of that seductive, spiteful mouth of hers, and I'll finally get to cum down someone's throattoday. All in all, it hasn't been a shitty first day back at this crappy school after all.
CHAPTER 8
DAMON
The bass is too loud; it doesn’t just shake the floor, it rattles inside my ribs, hammering against my skull, and makes my teeth ache. Every obnoxious laugh cuts sharply, like it’s aimed at me, like the whole room is in on some pathetic joke I can’t hear. I grip the cup harder, fingers slick with sweat, as I crush the plastic surface, and some of the liquid spills over the edge, desperate to escape my grasp.Did I drink too much? Not enough?Everything’s buzzing and blurred at the edges, and the shadows, God, the shadows, they won’t sit still.Fuck, they’re taunting me.
They crawl along the walls, stretching menacingly, like they’ve got razor-sharp claws, and they’re reaching for me. People move through them, blind, stupid, or drunk, maybe a combination of all three, but I see them. I see the way the dark bends, how it leans toward me seductively. It knows my name. It's calling out to me, with silent screams that the rest of these fucking sheep can't hear.
I blink hard, but the shadows don’t go away. One of them jerks its head toward me, its face is just a jagged slice of eerie blackness, and I swear it’s grinning and taunting me. Ishove past someone unsteadily, a guy, a girl, fuck, it doesn’t matter. They say something, their laughter breaking through the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, and it hits me like a hard punch to the gut. My blood spikes hot, red, and furious.What did they mean by that?Was it about me?It’s always about me; everyone in this place likes to whisper my name, either in prayer or terror. My hands shake, fists clenching tightly, and before I know it, I’m ready, ready to break something, or someone, anything to just shut it all up. I throw the broken cup against the wall and slam my hands over my ears, desperately seeking a moment of silence, a reprieve from everything attacking me all at once, but I know it's useless. It always is. Peace is allergic to me, so I'm meant to suffer.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror across the room. My face is blotchy, red, and the bruise from earlier is ugly and molten on my forehead. Hazel eyes stare back at me, wild, with too much of the white showing, and my teeth are clenched, like I’m about to bite through my own tongue. I don’t even recognize myself. I look like something out of a horror movie.Damon the demon,my father's voice whispers through my mind, causing a shudder to slide down my spine.
