Страница 37 из 222
Lucian
Sixteen years ago …
My father comes home today. With Jude having left, on his way back to school, there’s nothing to keep me distracted from that thought. Blowing out an exasperated breath, I fix my gaze toward the tall ceiling in my bedroom. Adorned with gods of war, there isn’t an inch of it that isn’t painted with men in armor, clashing in blood and battle. Somehow, my parents thought staring up at it night after night would turn me into a complacent and obedient teenager.
Disaster with the fire extinguisher aside, homecomings with my father are never something I look forward to, but this one promises to be exceptionally bad, as I understand negotiations didn’t go as he’d hoped. Which means his shitty mood will permeate every corner of this castle before the night is over. I’ll get the brunt of it, as usual, but so will everyone else.
Perhaps even Solange.
At the flash of her tits, I screw my eyes shut and run a hand down my face. After spending the entire night battling the most horrific case of blue balls I’ve ever felt, I’ll now be forced to tamp down the raging hard-on she’s incited once again.
A knock at the door stiffens my muscles. Surely, my father hasn’t arrived home already.
I lift my head, waiting to see if he’ll slam through the door cursing my name, like the last time I got in trouble.
Another knock arrives, instead.
Likely not either of my parents, since my mom would’ve pushed her way in by now.
“Yeah?”
Instead of an answer, I get another knock at the door.
Groaning in frustration, I clamber out of bed, and with quick strides across the room, I throw the door open.
Solange stands outside my room. “Forgive my intrusion.” Her voice is like an intoxicating poison made for a slow death. “May I come in?”
After a quick glance around, I step aside, allowing her entry.
“I have to admit, of all the rooms I’ve seen, so far, this one is my favorite.” She points to the ceiling and smiles. “Nothing sexier than gods in battle.”
“What do you want?”
“You disappointed me the other night. I was a little … how you say … humiliated.”
“What’d you expect, after screwing my friend in front of me?”
“Did you like the taste of my pussy?”
Setting one hand on my hip, I rub my jaw with the other to keep from grabbing my straining dick in front of her. “Nothing I haven’t tasted before.”
Amusement flickers in her eyes as she licks her lips, and her gaze nosedives toward where my groin must look like I’m smuggling te
Frowning, I focus on what she holds up in front of me. Porn, based on the cover of the magazine that shows a couple fucking, but not just any porn. These two are clad in leather, and the woman is tied up. The expression on her face, twisted up in fear, makes it look like rape.
“That isn’t mine.”
“Sure, sure.”
“I’m serious. I’ve never seen that before.” Jesus Christ, if this is Jude’s little prank, he’s a dead man the next time I see him. My mom would have a heart attack if she got her hands on this.
On a slow saunter back toward me, Solange doesn’t lower the magazine from my sight. “The question is, do you like what you see?”
I don’t answer that. Of course I like what I see. Any guy who says he doesn’t fantasize about forced sex on occasion is a fucking liar.
Would I act on it, though? No, I’m no rapist.
“Would you like to do that, say … to me?”
“I already told you. I don’t do sloppy--”
She slaps a hand over my mouth, and she’s lucky I’m already in the shithouse with my father, or she’d regret laying a hand on me. No one touches without asking.
I pry her fingers from my lips and throw her hand off to prove that point.
“I want you to meet me down in the cave tonight. I want to show you something.”
This chick is relentless. She’s got to be ten years older than me, at least. What the hell does she want with me?
“I’m sure I’ll be grounded.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Testing my limits again, she sets her palm against my chest. “Do they lock your crib at night, so you can’t crawl out?” Not even giving me the chance to make a smartass comment, she leans into me. “I wanted to show you a trick.”
“What kind of trick?”
Something brushes the head of my dick through the slacks, and my stomach knots up. My mom could come through the door at any second, and this woman doesn’t seem to care. “You’ll have to come, if you want to find out.”
Pressing the magazine into my chest, she guides my hand to take it from her.
“A gift from me,” she whispers, and steps past me. “Enjoy.”
A throbbing ache swells behind my eye socket, and I set an ice pack there to numb the pain as I sit on a boulder inside the cave. A fist to the eye is nothing to me. Besides growing up with a violent bastard for a father, I got into more fights than I can count in school. This one’s just another chip against my dwindling self-control. The truth is, even if Solange didn’t invite me down here, I’d have ended up here eventually. It’s where I go when I need to escape the prick. My mother had conveniently already swallowed back her valium before he arrived home. Not that she’d have stopped him. Sure, she’d have protested, like any mom, but she isn’t stupid. Griffin Blackthorne would’ve happily doled out the same punishment to her, so it’s better she didn’t get in the middle of it. Asshole didn’t even seem all that pissed about the fire extinguisher, so I’m guessing I merely served as a punching bag to his frustrations over a botched business deal.
Second one in the last couple of months, which means the old man is losing his touch.
Shadows at the mouth of the cave draw my attention to where a lithe form stands at the entrance. I daresay she’s a welcomed sight right now, as I solemnly nurse the wounds that’ll ultimately leave me with a black eye. I lower the pack of ice, confirming that I still can’t see out of my left eye, and she rushes toward me, falling to her knees before the boulder.
“Mon bébé! My sweet boy, what happened to you?” Her fingertips brush over the bruise, and even the slightest pressure intensifies the ache.
Sweet boy? She hardly knows me.
“I’m fine.” Pushing her hand aside, I catch the pout of her lips, telling of her disappointment.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I didn’t come for you.”
“Are you not attracted to me?”
“What does it matter? You’re too old for me.”
Her eyes flinch at that, as if I’ve slapped her. “Old,” she echoes, and pushes to her feet. “May I show you the trick now, young master?”
“Whatever floats your boat.” The dismissal in my tone is the result of the increasingly aching throb behind my eyeball. What I wouldn’t give for some weed to help dull the misery.
Like she senses as much, she hooks her finger beneath my chin, tipping my head back. “You’re in pain?”
“I said I’m fine.”
Reaching down into her shirt, she pulls a silver flask out from between her breasts. “I’ve brought you something that might help.”