Feuds and reckless fury, p.7
Feuds and Reckless Fury, page 7
“Maybe your hole isn’t tight at all. Hmm? You let the whole track team fuck you?”
“The football team too,” he throws back. “In fact, you’re the only one who hasn’t fucked me.”
His words shouldn’t piss me off, but they do. I know he’s fucking with me, but it agitates me all the same.
“They’re not allowed to anymore.” I bite his earlobe. “You belong to me.”
“Right now, in this bed, is the only time I’ll belong to you.”
A thrill shoots down my spine because though it’s an argument, he half agreed to something I didn’t realize I wanted. His complete submission.
“Are you going to tell everyone at school you let me fuck you bare?” I suck on his neck again. “Because when I have you, it’ll be bare.”
I’m not going to fuck him.
I’m not.
But taunting him seems to drive him insane, which is the goal.
“How do I know you’re negative?” he murmurs, turning his head slightly so my lips brush along his cheek.
“I haven’t fucked anyone in over a year,” I admit. “I’ve been tested since then.”
“Not even Naomi?”
“She didn’t want to.”
“Didn’t take you for the gentlemanly type.”
“I’m only an asshole to you.”
He moans when I lick his neck again. The sound reverberates to my dick, and it strains in my jeans.
It’s all talk.
To get inside his head so I can fuck him over.
Or just fuck him…
“Canyon, please,” he begs. “I need…”
“What, Wonderland?” I lift up so I can see his face. “Tell me. Do you want to come?”
His fathomless mahogany eyes are hooded as he nods. I can’t help but drop my stare to his parted, pink lips as his breath comes out unevenly. Would he make those same keening sounds if I was buried deep inside him?
Not. Fucking. Alister.
“Beg to come, Alis. Beg, and I’ll make it good for you.”
“Please, please, oh fuck, please.”
Satisfaction thrums through me at his obedience. I reward him by rubbing along his dick until his breathing grows sharp and ragged. The moment he loses control and comes, a soft moan rasps from his throat. My own dick throbs painfully with the need to release.
I’m going insane because I imagine for a second pulling my dick out and painting his plump lips with my pre-cum. I release one of his hands to reach for the button on my jeans.
“Canny!” Carrie shrieks from behind me. “Don’t beat him up! I invited him here!”
I freeze, the lust fog lifting and revealing to me what exactly I’m doing. Grinding against my enemy. Jesus fuck.
“We’re just goofing around,” I croak out, releasing him to fall onto my chest beside him on the bed so my sister doesn’t see my ridiculous hard-on. “Calm down.”
“Wrestling,” Alis rushes out and then rolls away from me to his side to hide his own discomfort. “I, uh, need to get home. Maybe we can practice another day.”
The room goes silent aside from the soft panting of Alis and me. Carrie lets out a sigh, mutters something under her breath, and leaves, shutting the door behind her.
I can’t look at him.
I sure as fuck can’t face what I just did with him.
“Either you take the walk of shame with a wet spot on your pants, or you borrow something of mine,” I grunt out. “Top drawer are some shorts.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to slow my racing heart. It’s even more difficult to convince my dick it doesn’t need to come. My balls are blue as fuck right now.
He shuffles around, opening and closing drawers. A few minutes later, I hear the toilet flush and the sink running in the adjacent bathroom. I’m still in the same position when he returns.
“Should I, uh…get you off—”
“No,” I bark out. “Just go.”
“Are you going to wash my clothes, or am I going to find my jizz-crusted underwear hanging from the flagpole in the morning?”
A chuckle rumbles through me. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
“Betcha a Coke you get yourself off after I leave and think of me when you do it.”
“Go away,” I grumble.
“You didn’t win this round.”
“No,” I complain, annoyed that I’m still aching to come. “I certainly did not.”
He thumps me on the ass. “See you around, Voss. If you want your dick sucked as a thank you, you know where to find me.”
His laugh makes me roll my eyes. I blindly shoot him the bird, which has him laughing harder. It isn’t until he closes the door and I roll onto my back that I realize I’m grinning.
I did not enjoy that.
I’m still hard and unsatisfied, for fuck’s sake.
I guess I’m going to just keep lying to myself.
Dinner is quiet. Carrie ignores me to text as she eats the grilled cheese sandwiches I made for us. I keep glancing at the clock, wondering when Mom will get home when my phone buzzes.
Dad: Quinn and I are going to come watch you and Alis at your first track meet. I’m looking forward to seeing you beat his time.
As pissed as I am at my dad, my heart does a tiny flop inside my chest at his words. When I played football, he was my biggest supporter. I didn’t realize how much I longed for that aspect of our relationship until now.
But, because I refuse to be swayed so easily, I leave the message left on read.
I’m an asshole, but so is he.
“What?” I demand, feeling Carrie’s curious stare on me.
“You. You’re behaving erratically.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” I glower at her. “Staying out late drinking, inviting the enemy into our home…”
Her lips purse together, and she narrows her eyes at me. When she stares at me like this, it reminds me of Mom anytime I was in trouble growing up.
“You broke up with Naomi and have been hanging out with Dad,” she accuses, her voice trembling slightly. “Maybe it’s time to admit we’re both a little fucked up.”
“I wasn’t hanging out with Dad,” I bite back, shoving my empty plate away from me. “I was seeing what they were up to. They’re happy as can be playing house over there while we’re miserable as hell.”
Her eyes water, and she bites on her bottom lip to keep from crying. I feel bad for being a dick to her, but she started it.
“You weren’t beating him up, were you?” Her words are soft and barely audible. “You were—”
I slam my hand down on the table. “I was doing nothing!”
“You can lie to everyone else, but I see right through it, Canny. Just stop it already. Tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”
I hate Alister Sommers.
But I also want to fuck him.
Explain that one to me, sis.
“Keep him out of my room,” I grit out. “Can you at least give me that, or are you also going to give me shit like everyone else in my life?”
“Whatever. Talk to me when you’re done being an ass,” she mutters, standing from the table and storming away.
I sit there staring at the crumbs on my plate until I hear the garage door. A few minutes later, Mom walks through the door into the house. Her hair is slightly disheveled, and she looks dazed.
“Mom,” I mutter as I rise to my feet. “You okay?”
Her glassy eyes flutter. “Yeah, baby. Just tired.”
“You work too much,” I complain. “You need to cut back on your hours.”
I wrap my arms around my mother. She feels so small these days. There was a time when she was such a powerful, loving presence in our home. It’s as though Dad snuffed her fire out, and all that’s left is a tiny plume of smoke.
“Were you able to get Saturday off?” I inhale her familiar scent but pick up a whiff of stale cigarette smoke. “My meet starts at nine.”
She stiffens in my embrace. “No. I’m sorry, honey.”
Closing my eyes, I curse Dad for the millionth time. It’s times like these, seeing my mother nothing but a fragment of her former self, that I hate him with every ounce of my being.
“I wish you could just quit,” I whisper. “You don’t need the money.”
“Jesus Christ, Canyon.” She pulls from my hug, a withering look I’d seen on Carrie not long before. “Lay off it already. You’ll be graduating soon—time to start acting like a man. Sometimes you just don’t get your way. Responsibilities come first. Understand?”
I recoil at her angry words. “Yeah, Momma. I understand.”
Her face crumples like she might cry as she mouths an apology to me. With tears in her eyes, she leaves me alone in the kitchen. A couple seconds later, her bedroom door shuts.
To calm my nerves, I take my time turning off all the lights and making sure all the windows and doors are locked. It used to be Dad’s job. A lot of the shit I do now used to be his job. Mom’s right. I need to start acting like a man because and I sure as hell have his responsibilities.
Dad did this.
He destroyed our family.
Tonight was a good reminder to keep my head on straight and not lose sight of my goal.
Make them pay.
Starting with Alis.
Alister
I’m so fucking tired.
After the momentous mistake yesterday letting Canyon bring me to orgasm, and with my clothes on no less, I went straight home to work on a new sculpture.
This one of his face.
He’d looked so arrogant and powerful as he held me down. Pleased as hell at what he was doing to me. But his blue eyes also burned with heat and attraction. That was what I wanted to capture. The way his lips were parted as though he wanted to kiss me.
Stupid.
So, so stupid.
This is all a game for us.
Especially him.
I’m nothing more than someone for him to toy with.
“Got a new boyfriend we don’t know about?” Ryan teases at breakfast, his handsome face looking too similar to Canyon’s for me to think straight.
“W-What?” I croak out, shuddering at the idea of him seeing inside my head.
A knowing smirk teases his lips. “The hickeys. You know, if he sticks around, you can bring him to the wedding.”
Heat blooms across my flesh, and I tear my stare from his probing gaze to Dad’s. His eyebrow is lifted in amusement as he sips his coffee.
“It was nothing,” I rasp out, dropping my attention to the half-eaten pile of eggs on my plate.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan jokes. “Your dad and I were nothing too until we were something.”
I hear the sound of their lips smacking together for a kiss. I’ve seen them kiss hundreds of times before, but for some reason, this time it bothers me.
Because you were getting dry fucked by Ryan’s son last night…
A groan manages to escape me. They confuse it for my annoyance at their kiss, not what’s really going on in my head, thank God.
Dad mentions something about a change in the florist when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I tune them out to see who texted me.
Brother Lover: A few more weeks, and we can make this official.
Me: There’s nothing to make official. Go bother someone else.
Brother Lover: I only have you to bother. Soon, I can bother you all the time.
What the hell does that even mean?
Rather than replying, I shove my phone back into my pocket and rejoin the conversation.
“You know, the flowers could be messed up, or the cake could fall, or it could rain, but want to know what I’m most worried about?” Ryan’s voice cracks with emotion. “That they won’t come.”
They being his children.
“If they love you, they’ll come to the wedding,” Dad assures him, squeezing his hand. “I know you guys are in a rocky spot, but it’ll get better. It already has. We saw Canyon just the other day, and Alis has started practicing violin with Carrie. We’ll be a family. You’ll see.”
Guilt is a tangible thing I can feel rolling around on my tongue—sour and tastes like regret.
I’m helping Carrie because I want to find dirt on Canyon. Because we’re in some epic pissing match that neither of us will stand down from. If Dad knew what I was really up to, he’d be disappointed. More than that, he’d be crushed.
And then what?
Kick me out on my ass when I graduate?
Bile rises in my throat. I chug my orange juice to keep from barfing.
“Alis,” Dad says, giving me a hopeful smile. “Maybe you could talk to them. Since you’re becoming friends with both Carrie and Canyon. It would mean the world to Ryan and me if you could convince them to come to the wedding.”
Oh, fuck.
“I, uh, am not sure I have that kind of power. Canyon’s a stubborn ass, and he’s still pretty angry.”
Ryan deflates at my words. “I just wish they’d talk to me…”
Despair hangs in the air. I hate seeing my dad so down because of Ryan’s pain. If I have the power to get him what he wants, I should certainly try. Canyon hates his dad and me, but he does talk to me. Maybe I could convince him to go to the wedding.
“I’ll bring it up to both of them,” I promise Ryan. “I don’t know how they’ll react, but I’ll try. I know it means a lot to you.”
Ryan’s smile is bright and lights up the entire room, much like his beautiful son. “Thank you, Alis. I owe you one.”
My dad’s brilliant grin is all the thanks I need.
I can do this.
I have to.
Canyon beat me.
The fucker beat me.
Just once out of four different matches. But still. It’s enough to have him gloating—prancing along the track like a fucking rooster with his chest puffed out. Coach Davies is jabbering away about how we’re going to blow up Marsh Hall High’s world when we kill them in the 100-meters and that there’ll be college scouts there to see us run. My mind is on a million things besides the track meet on Saturday, though.
It’s on last night.
Canyon still wears the self-assured, untouchable godlike expression that he did when he pinned me down and made me come. Like he’s the king of my world. It’s infuriating.
“Again,” I blurt out, ending Coach’s incessant talking.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Coach grunts out. “I’m not going to have the two of you pulling something before our first meet because you’re so goddamn competitive.”
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. “You happy?”
“Completely,” Canyon says with a wide grin. “You look as though you need some cheering up, though, bro.”
Coach chuckles. “Enough, you two. Get showered and hydrated. I’ll see the both of you tomorrow.”
I take off back to the locker room, eager to wash the sweat off my body. I’m scrubbing shampoo through my hair when I hear Canyon’s annoying whistling. The tune sounds familiar. G-Eazy, I think. I ignore him to rinse off. After drying off, I wrap my towel around my waist and walk back into the locker room. All the other athletes are still practicing, so it’s just the two of us. I sit down on the bench and wait for him to finish cleaning up so I can ask him the inevitable.
I’m jittery and trembling until he rounds the corner, his towel loosely tied low at his hips. My mouth goes dry as I marvel over his defined oblique muscles. The trail of hair from his navel to beneath his towel just begs to be licked. I force my stare up his body, drinking in each beautifully hardened ab and his muscular pectorals. His dark-tan nipples are peaked. I’d give both my balls up if he’d let me suck on them.
Fuck.
I press my palm over my dick that’s trying to escape my towel. Canyon’s brow lifts in amusement. He crosses his bulky arms over his chest and takes a step toward me. Water drips from the dark hair that hangs in his eyes, temptingly rolling down his cheeks.
I want to lick him.
Every last inch.
“Can we talk?” I rasp out, unable to keep from sweeping my stare over his sexy abs once more.
“What do you want to talk about, Sommers? Your cum-covered underwear that are still sitting in my hamper.”
I glower at him. “You said you’d wash them.”
“I said no such thing. Besides, I’m still contemplating how to get them attached to the flagpole.” He winks and fuck if fire doesn’t shoot straight to my balls. “What’s on your mind besides my dick in your mouth?”
“I fucking hate you.”
“I’d believe that if you weren’t desperately trying to hide your erection, man.”
Smug bastard.
“I want you to come to the wedding,” I blurt out.
“As your date?”
“W-What? No.” I run my fingers through my wet hair. “For your dad.”
His humor is wiped from his face as a scowl takes over. “No.”
“Canyon, please.”
“Fuck no.”
I stand up and walk over to him, my knees wobbly. “Maybe we can negotiate. You and Carrie agree to go and—”
“You’ll give me something in return.”
“Something like that,” I grumble. “What do you want?”
“That’s a layered question.” He steps closer until we’re nearly touching. I’m forced to angle my head up to see his face. “I’d say a blowjob, but that’s what you want to give me. I need something you don’t want to give.”
“You want me to let you win at the meet?”
His lip curls up, clearly offended by my question. “No. And that’s awfully arrogant of you to think you’d win in the first place, especially since I just beat your ass out there.”
“What do you want, Voss?”
“Collateral.”
“Elaborate.”
“On your knees, Wonderland.”
I gape at him. “But you said—”
He presses a thumb to my lips. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not sucking my dick.”
I roll my eyes, and he chuckles.
“What then?” I demand, my tone testy and impatient.
“Give me a picture.”
“Of what?”
