“I’m okay, thank you.”
Harrison and I just got back to his condo. It has a beautiful view of the city all lit up at night. It’s apparent nobody actually lives here, though. Everything is pristine and in its place, like every other time I’ve been here. Thankfully, Jules and the party he came in with left shortly after the bathroom incident, and Harrison was none the wiser.
Speaking of Harrison, he grabs my hand gently, leading me into the master bedroom. It’s down the long hallway, the only door on the lefthand side. A plush California king bed sits against the wall in the middle, royal blue bedding that probably cost more than this date sitting atop, looking perfectly neat, with not a wrinkle in sight. There’s a bench in front of the bed that matches the frame, and a dresser in the corner, but other than that, it’s an empty room.
Once he’s guided me to the bed, his fingers find the hem of the black blouse I’m wearing, pulling it over my head, and letting it fall to the ground. My tiny pink nipples pebble with the chill of the air, a shudder taking hold of me. He presses featherlight kisses along my collarbone as my hands move to rid him of his clothes too. Once his shirt is off, my hands work to undo his belt before dropping to my knees, peering up at him while I work his pants down.
His deep, bronzed skin—a shade much darker than Jules’s—is smooth and rich, his impressive cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Lapping up the pre-cum pooled at his slit, he hisses through his straight white teeth, hooded eyes staring down at me, overflowing with lust and something like appreciation.
“I’ve missed this, baby,” he coos. “Missed you.”
It’s not uncommon for the Johns to call me pet names. Harrison has called me ‘baby’ for as long as I can remember. It’s nothing new. I throw him a small smile before closing my lips around his swollen, red crown, twirling my tongue around.
The entire time I’m working him over, it’s Jules’s face front and center in my mind, no matter how hard I try to get him to leave. Every groan or heavy breath coming from above is not Harrison’s… it’s Jules’s. The hand petting my hair, urging me deeper, belongs to Jules, and behind my closed eyes, I can see him biting down on his firm, pink lips while the crease between his brows deepens with an effort to not fall apart.
I suck him to the brink of explosion, but he pulls out before he comes. Moving me to lie on top of the bed, he takes me into his mouth, and again, it isn’t Harrison I see taking all of me down his throat while his fingers work my hole open. Resting on my elbows, my head hangs back, eyes tightly closed as the vision plays out behind my eyelids. He’s under my skin, living in my mind, and I can’t even pretend I don’t love it.
Arousal swirls deep in my gut as I watch him roll the condom onto his cock. Even more so as I watch him slather it in lube. When he sinks inside of me, we let out a shared groan. He fucks me slow and deep, but it isn’t until he turns me around on all fours that I really lose myself to the feeling. With his large body behind me, it’s easy to shut my eyes and pretend it’s someone else once again. Too easy to envision Jules behind me, owning me like I know he would. He’s hitting all the right places, my toes curling, chest rising and falling rapidly as he brings me to the edge.
“Fuck,” I cry out, pushing back against him, meeting each thrust with my own.
He’s talking to me, growling filthy things, but I don’t hear any of it. I’m too lost in the fantasy I’ve created in my mind—the scene Julesplantedthere. And when my balls tighten up, that tingly feeling taking over in the lower part of my spine, and I spray all over the comforter below me, I know it isn’t Harrison making me come.
No… it’s Jules fucking van der Meer.
Chapter Fourteen
Bodhi King
Fall, Sophomore Year of High School
“Goddamnit, Bodhi!” My dad’s heavy steps shake the house as he enters the kitchen. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I fucking asked you to clean up this mess twenty minutes ago, and it’s still not fucking done?”
He’s talking about the shattered glass he created when he threw the empty liquor bottle into the sink in a fit of rage after losing his poker game.
It’s a bad night.
My mom is gone for the weekend; away at her sister’s, helping her get settled into her new place. She just left her abusive husband, and my mom wants to be there for her. If only she knew what she left behind. My mom is the only buffer I have against my dad. He wouldn’t dream of being mean to me in front of her. But when she’s gone? Oh, it’s fair game on Bodhi.
Noah’s gone for the night, too. He had an away game a few towns over, and the coaches got hotel rooms for the team so they wouldn’t have to drive back too late.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m trying not to cut myself on the shards of glass.”
He scoffs. “You’re fucking useless, you know that? Can’t fucking do anything right. Can’t play ball like Noah. Don’t have the drive like Charles. All you’re fucking good for is eating us out of a fucking home and moping around like you’ve got some difficult fucking life.”
Stomping out of the room, he leaves me alone to clean up his mess. Pressure builds behind my eyes, vision blurring. I fucking hate it here. Why bother having kids if you’re not going to love them or treat them kindly? As far as I know, I wasn’t some sort of “oopsie” accident. I was planned. So, why is it so hard for him to love me?
“Ouch, fuck!” Flipping my hand over, palm up, blood pools around the tiny sliver of glass poking out of the tip of my middle finger. Quickly, I pluck it out, tossing it in the trash before finishing cleaning up. Once I’m done, I wrap my finger in a paper towel, heading upstairs in search of a Band-Aid. I get to the top of the stairs, rounding the corner, and I almost make it to my bedroom when someone steps out in front of me, blocking my way.
“Look who it is,” Charles sneers. “If it isn’t pathetic fucking Bodhi. Heard Dad screaming at you down there. Just can’t do anything right, huh?” His laugh is vile and humorless, the tequila on his breath so potent, I’m surprised I don’t get drunk just by smelling it.
“Get out of my way, Charles.” I try to move around him, but he shoves me back.
“What’s that?” he asks, ripping the paper towel away from my hand. “Awe, did poor Bodhi cut his finger open like a little baby?”
His mocking tone cuts me a lot deeper than the wound on my finger, but after the altercation with my dad downstairs, I’m already torn down. Unshed tears fill my eyes to the brim, and I look away, hoping he won’t notice, but of course he does. He’s a vulture. He catches everything.
“You gonna cry over that tiny cut on your finger?” He shakes his head, grabbing my hand up to examine my finger. When he squeezes it, blood drips out faster. I gasp from the strength he’s using to hold my finger still. He laughs. “What a little fucking bitch you are.”
