Feuds and reckless fury, p.8
Feuds and Reckless Fury, page 8
“You. On your knees. Begging for my cock.”
“So you can spread it to everyone we know? Fuck that.”
He cocks his head to the side, studying me with devious intent. “It’s just for collateral. Only if I need to use it.”
“No.”
“Fine. You can attend the wedding alone.”
I close my eyes and swallow down my anger. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”
He steps close enough to me that our chests brush against each other. I shiver, which makes him grin in triumph. “Please.”
Nice Canyon is dangerous.
“I’m doing this for my dad, not yours,” I mutter. “So if this gets back to him, it defeats the purpose.”
“Your dad will never know about this picture.” He licks his bottom lip. “I can promise that much.”
“So you want me to get on my knees and what?”
“I’ll show you,” he rumbles, his voice deep and husky with what sounds like a want that matches mine. “Get on your knees while I grab my phone.”
I’ve lost my mind because I obey my enemy, dropping to the floor. My gaze is trained on the way the towel hugs his firm ass. I’d love to bite it.
He returns with a wicked smile and his phone in hand. Once he’s close to me, he tugs the towel loose. My stare falls to his massive cock that’s heavy and bobbing. Erect and leaking with pre-cum.
Holy shit.
Of course, his dick would be fucking beautiful.
I lick my lips and whimper when his fingers caress my hair. Darting my gaze upward, I meet his penetrative cobalt orbs.
“You want this, brother?”
I bristle at his question—more specifically, the name. “Fuck no.”
“Liar. Lick the tip.”
“But you said—”
“That’s all I want. Your tongue tasting what you can’t have. That’s the picture I need, Wonderland. Give it to me, and I go willingly to the damn wedding. I’ll make sure Carrie goes too.”
“And you promise to behave? You won’t ruin their day?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” I start to reach for his cock, but he smacks my hand away.
“Just your tongue.”
With my eyes burning into his, I flick my tongue out and lean forward. His soapy, masculine musk fills my nostrils. Fuck, I want to swallow his pretty dick whole. I bring my tongue to the tip and tease a circle around the crown. He positions the camera and inhales a harsh breath when I give the slit a suck, eagerly tasting the tease of his seed.
“Jesus,” he moans. “You’re a fucking monster.”
Maybe I won this round indeed.
I’m about to grab his hips and take him deep into my mouth when we hear voices. Canyon drops his phone in his haste to grab his towel and cover-up. I pick up the phone and hand it to him after he manages to tie the towel around his waist. We both return to our respective lockers just as other teammates begin to enter the locker room after their practice.
I can still taste his salty essence on my tongue. I’ve yet to swallow it down, eager to hold onto it for a little while longer. Finally, I swallow the teasing sample of him. A hunger I know will never be sated burns through my veins.
Canyon Voss will ruin me.
I can’t let this happen.
But, Sommers, it already is happening, and you have no one to blame but yourself.
Canyon
What did I just agree to?
I was so focused on getting Alis’s supple, pouty mouth near my dick, I lost all sense of reality. In that moment, I would have cut out my heart and handed it over to him, just to get what I wanted.
Him.
The feel of his tongue, so hot and wet, teasing my tip was the single most glorious thing I’d ever felt in my entire life.
Just imagine how his throat would feel…
After I dress, I step out of the locker room and into the hall. It’s empty, so I pull my phone out to discreetly look at the picture I took.
Holy shit.
My dick remains hard as stone. Want, deep and aching, settles in my bones. I want him. And not in some revenge-fuck kind of way. I want to possess him and pin him down. To hear every breathy sound that leaves his throat. The need for him is damn near consuming me.
And I have no one to talk to about it.
Naomi’s face comes to mind. Guilt assaults me. I wronged that poor girl because of my stupid vengeance mission. Her smiles and affection were the only things that got me through each day this past summer. I fucking miss her.
Before I can consider what a bad idea it is, I rush out to my Challenger, eager to see Nae. I drive to the pizza place she works at, longing for some sense of normalcy in my life. By the time I burst into the restaurant, I’m practically shaking with the need to talk to her.
Her dark eyes flit over to mine as soon as I approach the counter. I wait impatiently behind a man placing an order. She never loses stride, her customer service smile firmly affixed, while I stare unabashedly at her.
As soon as the man walks off, her smile falls to the ground, shattering at her feet.
“What are you doing here?” she demands, her black brows drawing together.
I reach across the counter, taking her hand in mine. “Can you take a break? To talk?”
Her lips purse together, and she gives me a clipped nod. “I’ll meet you outside. I just need to let Todd know I’m stepping away.”
I head back out and sit on the hood of my car, waiting for Naomi. A few minutes later, she steps out and crosses her arms over her chest. She keeps her distance from me, which really fucking sucks.
“Nae…” I trail off and run my fingers through my hair. “You’re right.”
She smirks. “I’m always right.”
I fight a grin. “Only about sixty percent of the time.”
“Try ninety-five.”
“Seventy-five.”
“Eighty.”
We both chuckle. The banter and friendship between us were always easy. It guts me knowing we’ve lost that.
“I’m sorry.” My neck is tense, so I rub at the muscles, trying to find the right words. “Look, I know we can’t be together anymore because—”
“You like someone else,” she blurts out as I say at the same time, “I’m a stalker.”
I wince and shake my head. “Nae, I don’t. It’s just this thing…with my dad.”
“I was with you for a year, Canyon. Even though I lost you last spring to your sadness and then in the summer to your anger, I still know you. I know your expressions and your moods.”
“It’s not like that, though.” It feels like a lie. I don’t know what it’s like. “I’m just…”
“Confused?”
“Lost.”
Her hard expression fades as she steps closer, her caring eyes probing me. “It’s not like it’s a surprise to me.”
“What?”
“That you like guys too.”
I frown at her. “How could you possibly think that?”
“Aside from this whole Alis Sommers thing,” she says, making me fidget at the mention of his name, “I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at attractive guys before. There’s interest there. Sometimes, more so than with me. I’d say you’re bisexual.”
“I never looked at anyone while we were together,” I argue instead of admitting that she’s right. “It was always you.”
“Until it was him.”
Fuck. This is not how I saw this conversation going.
“Nae, can I be super fucking selfish and ask for something?”
“You can. Doesn’t mean I’ll give it to you.”
“I need you,” I say, sliding off the hood of my car to stand in front of her. “I need us.”
“There is no us.” Her brows scrunch. “I can’t be your girlfriend.”
“I understand,” I murmur, lifting my thumb to stroke her shiny, dark cheek. “But I need my best friend back. You’re the only one who gets me. Damon is cool, but with me quitting football, him and the other guys are kind of pissed at me. I’ve been avoiding them.”
“You see what you’re doing to yourself?” Naomi asks in a soft tone. “Your anger is cutting you off from everyone you care about.”
“I know. I am trying to fix at least one of those wrongs. Please, Nae, don’t let this be the end for us. I’m sorry I was a selfish prick who treated you as an accessory rather than a person. We can still be friends, right? I still want to hear you bitch about this stupid job you hate and your bratty sister. I’m pretty sure you miss discussing Mubōna Ikari and want to hear all about the fact my room is clean.”
“I don’t miss Mubōna Ikari.” She shakes her head, making a sour expression. “And it is not. Your room is always a disaster.”
“Alis cleaned it.”
Her dark eyes widen. “He was at your house?”
“Apparently, he’s teaching Carrie some violin shit. She seemed pretty happy about it.”
“So, not only did he go to your house, but he also cleaned your room and survived?” She laughs. “Now that is a surprise. You’re right. You’ve hooked me. I need to know more.”
“Everything you said was true. The stalking and the anger. And, somewhere over the past few days, it’s transformed into something else. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I have no one who I love or trust to discuss it with. Just you.” I sigh and look up at the sky. “It’s a dick move to ask you to be that person for me, but I’m going crazy, Nae.”
She laughs and pats my chest. “You were always a little unhinged. Now you finally see it.”
“Ha. Ha.” I look down at her, my brow lifted in faux annoyance.
“All right,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “We can be friends. But I need something from you too.”
“Name it.”
“I’m going to get out there and start dating again. For several months, I’ve felt alone while inside a relationship. Helpless to do anything about it. I want to make sure you’re going to be okay because I love you for some dumb reason, but I want you to support me when I start seeing someone else. If you’re going to act like a dick and pissy about it, then I’ll know all of this talk was bullshit.” She places her hands on her hips, lifting a brow as if daring me to argue. “That’s the deal.”
“As long as it’s not Alis, you can date whoever you want.”
“You’re not my dad, so I can date whoever I want regardless of what you think, but I have to say, I’m not at all shocked.”
“It’s just because he’s gay, and it’d be a waste of time,” I grumble, not meeting her penetrative stare.
“Right. And because you like him.”
“I do not like him. Not like that.”
“I thought we were supposed to be friends now. You really going to sit there and lie to me?”
“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.” I spear my fingers through my hair, messing it up. “I don’t like him. At all. In fact, I’ve destroyed our relationship because of it.” I gesture between us. “But, I’m fucking attracted to him, Nae. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Again. Bisexual.”
“No, I mean, him. Why him? Why not Damon or your manager Todd? Why not half the football team? Why my enemy?”
“He doesn’t have to be your enemy, you know. Maybe we should all go out one day, as friends. Me, you, him, and Leon.” She shrugs. “Get to know him better. Maybe he’s not as bad as you have him built up to be in your head.”
He’s not.
He’s so much more than what I expected.
I can’t admit that, though.
“I’m sure Leon would love that.” I let out a snort.
“What does that mean?”
“Like you don’t notice the way he looks at you.”
“As a matter of fact,” she grinds out, “I don’t. But, in case you need reminding, you’re not allowed to get jealous. You’re my friend, not my boyfriend. That’s it. Is this going to be a problem?”
“No, ma’am.”
She smacks my arm, grinning. “You’re such a dick.”
“You still love me.”
“Whatever, boy.”
I pull her to me for a long hug before releasing her. My spirits are lifted considerably knowing I haven’t completely fucked things up as far as Naomi’s concerned.
Now, if I could just figure out what the hell I’m going to do about Alis.
Intense violin playing can be heard upstairs, and for a moment, I wonder if Alis is here too. But, since I didn’t see his car out front, I can guess it’s just Carrie practicing. Mom isn’t in any of the front rooms, no surprise there, so I check her bedroom. She’s curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, breathing softly as she sleeps. Her purse is still on the bed beside her. When I pick it up to move it, something rattles. I set it down on the dresser and then fish out a couple of pill bottles.
Xanax and Prozac.
I suck in a deep breath and exhale slowly. She’s depressed, which is no surprise. But seeing the proof of it is difficult. My mood, which had improved after seeing Naomi, immediately turns bitter.
Walking upstairs, I make a beeline for Carrie’s room. She’s no longer playing the violin. I peek inside to find her lying on her back, texting someone.
“Staying out of trouble?”
She jolts at my deep voice and flips me off. “I’m being an angel, Dad.”
Dad.
She’s going to be pissed about what I have to say, but there’s no sense in putting it off. I let out a sigh and rip off the proverbial Band-Aid.
“You know we have to go to the wedding, right?”
She sits up, her blue eyes wide and horrified. “No. We do not.”
“We do. We’ll regret it one day if we don’t.” That’s a big fucking lie, but I made a deal with Alis. And keeping my end of the deal means saying whatever’s necessary to get my grudge-holding sister there.
“I will regret nothing. Maybe Dad will regret ruining our family.”
Frustration rattles through me. I guess this is what Naomi felt like any time I bitched about Dad.
“I can’t pretend to understand or know what Dad was thinking, but it still doesn’t change the fact he’s getting married, and we need to go.”
“It’s a betrayal to Mom if we go.”
“She already expressed to us she wants us to go.”
Carrie shakes her head, her nostrils flaring. “Because she had to. That’s what moms are required to say.”
“We’re going.”
“Canyon, I’m not. Stop it. Just stop it.”
“Carrie—”
“Why the sudden change of heart anyway?” she demands, her neck and face turning splotchy red with her anger. “Did Alis put you up to this?”
I flinch at her words, answering the question without saying anything. Her eyes narrow as she inspects me as though I’m beneath a microscope.
“What’s in it for me?”
Both my brows lift in surprise. “Is being a good sister not enough?”
“Nope.”
“What do you want?”
“To go with you next time you go to a convention.”
“So you can make fun of me the whole time?”
She smirks. “I mean, it has its perks.”
“You think it’s weird.”
“Well, yeah, but mostly I think you’re weird. Big difference.”
“Are you going to dress up too?”
“Probably not. I’ll merely be there to collect embarrassing evidence for years to come.”
A stupid smile breaches my face. No one, not even Naomi, has ever been into anime cosplay like I have since I was twelve and stumbled across an episode of Mubōna Ikari one day on the internet. From that point on, I was obsessed. What was a childhood love for a Japanese cartoon eventually morphed into a hobby. I can’t draw for shit, but given enough time and supplies, I can look like just about any character I want from that show. My parents never quite understood it, but they never told me I couldn’t do it. I mean, they’re the ones who bought me all the stuff. And it was Dad who usually ended up going to the conventions with me.
“Ew. You’re doing it.”
“Doing what?” I frown, cocking my head to the side.
“Thinking about your nerdy anime costume party.”
“It’s not a costume party. It’s way more than—”
She cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “I’ve heard enough. Are you taking me or not?”
“It’s a deal. But you also have to play nice at the wedding.”
“I’ll try.”
It’ll have to be good enough.
Her phone rings, so I close the door behind me and head back to my room. As soon as I enter and take in the clean space, I can’t help but grin.
Alis cleaned my room.
I swear I can still smell his scent lingering in the air.
Flopping down onto the bed, I pull out my phone, trying like hell to avoid the pictures folder. But, like an idiot, I peek anyway.
Messy, wet white-blond hair hanging over his forehead. Straight nose. Dark lashes fanned over his cheeks. Pouty as fuck lips puckered on the tip of my dick.
My dick is hard and straining in my pants.
Fuck. I’m going to owe Wonderland a Coke.
Alister
Hide.
But then who will protect Momma?
If I pee my pants again, though, I’ll be in so much trouble. Trouble for me always means trouble for Momma. I’m a big boy now. I can protect her.
I crawl out from under my ratty Star Wars blanket and walk over to the door that’s cracked open. His shouting is loud. Yelling at Momma for stealing his medicine again. She always cries and calls him a liar when he says it.
He doesn’t visit often, but when he does, it’s always bad. Worse than when the other men come into the house. They usually just do yucky stuff in her room with her. I always cover my ears when I hear those gross sounds. But at least then, Momma seems sorta happy. When he visits, all they do is fight.
I peek down the hallway to where the light from the living room shines brightly. The smell of Momma’s cigarettes is strong. She always smokes lots when she’s upset.
Slowly, I creep down the hall toward the sound of their voices. Momma’s in her chair, a yucky cloud of smoke around her while he walks back and forth, accusing her of lying and stealing.
