4. Trenton
FOUR
Trenton
M y father is an arrogant man.
My mom was an angel.
She was too kind for this Earth, for him.
One thing I’ll never forget is her lifeless eyes staring at me as I laid next to her on the dingy, yellow kitchen floor. My tiny hands tugging on her shirt. The way I used my comfort blanket to wipe away the blood that trickled from her mouth.
I had seen and been through more at the age of three than most should. Abuse that didn‘t stop until the tender age of five when I fucking snapped. With cold eyes and my hand wrapped around a knife, I tried to gut that motherfucker. He laid his hands on me for the last time. Him and his buddies. For a quick hit of meth, I would become whatever his friends seemed fit.
Unfortunately, I didn't kill him that day. The neighbors heard the yelling- which was odd, considering we always yelled and no one seemed to care- and called the cops.
I wasn't a snitch. It was something he embedded in me and to this day I couldn't shake, but that day I led the cops to the uneven ground, the grass hiding his sins, and pointed to where he buried my mother.
Everything is a little hazy after that, but I remember one thing. Her. Brown ringlets and honey eyes holding out a crayon for me to take. Our eyes matched. Sad and broken but where hers sparkled, mine had dulled long ago.
She was kind like my mom. Which is probably where it all started. The hair pulling, the obsession. She’s always been mine. Which does little to explain why for the last week Adam has been touching her. Holding her hand, walking her to class. I could fucking smell him on her yesterday. It took a lot for me not to take what I wanted. What I’ve kept protected. All her firsts. I knew she’d had none because I made sure of it.
Adam had it in his head she’d give it to him. Locker room talk wasn't something I used to pay attention to, but when it’s about what’s mine, I tend to take an interest.
My fist that tends to get me whatever I need, did not work this time. He fought back, and he was an okay opponent, not a match though. I think the fight only made him want her more.
I had half a mind to make him disappear, but the thought of Blaise’s tear-streaked face and Desmond’s glare stops me. I truly wanted to make them proud. And I had a soft spot for Blaise. She saw my darkness and loved me for it. So jail time wasn't in the future over this douchebag.
My skates glide over the smooth ice. I was always the first one on the ice for practice. I had a knack for wanting to destroy pretty things.
Sanders was always next. He was my right wing and, unfortunately, Adam was my left. As center, we should have a good relationship, but he simply did not want to follow the rules. I got on just fine with everyone else but Adam.
“Rickman.” Sanders calls out behind me, skating closer and taking position in front of me as we stretch.
“Sup.” I nod to him.
Sanders looks around, showing off his buzzed cut black hair before he slips his helmet on. “Heard Andrews was going to make it his mission to make you snap in front of coach today.”
Andrews. As in Adam Andrews . Cliche fucking name.
I huff out a laugh. “I’d like to see him try.”
“Don’t worry, man. I’ve got you,” Sanders assures me.
“Alright, ladies! Three on three fast play,” Coach barks.
I skate over to the side to line up and notice Adam across from me. I smirk. Let the games begin.
***
My helmet smashes into Adam’s.
“Bet your little adopted sister will look so fucking good wrapped around my cock.”
I push his chest to get him off me, gritting my teeth and throwing my stick down. He’s been on me all practice. Taunting me and pushing me to my fucking limit.
A strong hand on my shoulder gives me pause as I turn to see Sanders shaking his head slightly at me. If it wasn't for him, Adam would have met my wrath thirty minutes ago.
The whistle blows as I grab my stick. “Hit the showers, ladies. Great practice today!”
I’m the last one to skate off the ice and hit the showers. I towel dry my hair after hitting the shower. Slipping my sweats on and a plain t-shirt before pushing my socked feet into my shoes. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I head out of the locker room, running into Sanders who seems to be waiting for me.
He nods, pushing off the wall and stepping up beside me as I make my way out. “Wanna head to After Hours?” He runs his ebony hand over his short hair.
The name rang a bell. “Is that the sports bar?”
He smiles, nodding. “Yeah, you’ve been there.”
I shake my head, “No, my adopted mother worked there when she went to school.”
Sanders snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you’re Desmond Rickman’s adopted son.” He laughs. “Fuck, I wish a hockey legend would have adopted me.”
And I’d trade it all to have my mom back.
But I don’t voice that vulnerable shit. I tuck it and the ball in my throat deep inside me, hoping to drown the useless emotions. All emotions have ever gotten me is hurt.
“Yeah, it was cool.” I shrug. Not a lie, at least.
We round the corner and the neon sign hovers not too far ahead, but that’s not what halts my steps, it’s my little moth and Adam’s lips so close together all I can see is red.
My steps pick up and I vaguely hear Sanders yelling from behind me, but I’m too far gone.
Ana’s eyes widen when she sees me. My hand grips Adam’s shoulder and I jerk him back, causing him to fall on his ass at my feet. He better get used to that fucking seat. Bending, I grab my moth by the waist and toss her small frame over my shoulder.
“What the heck, Trenton.” Her small fist pounds on my back. “Put me down.” I ignore her and my two teammates that are yelling behind me.
“Listen to me closely, Little Moth. I’m five seconds away from murdering the both of you.” Her body goes slack on my shoulder. I hold my hand up, setting her down but gripping her by the back of the neck waiting until a taxi slows and stops for us. Opening the door, I throw her ass in the back seat. Climbing in beside her, I look over to her, her lips parted and I shake my head in warning, barking orders to the driver.
The ride feels like forever, but I don’t calm down in that time. If anything, I turn lethal. She almost gave away one of her firsts. What’s mine. My hands shake as I wrap one around her, pulling her out and through the lobby. For some reason I don’t release my hold until we’re both in the penthouse. She backs away from me, lighting up my predator instincts.
I drop my bag, my steps mirroring hers until I have her plastered against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown. My hands twitch at my sides as my body presses into her. “Did you kiss him? Did you let him lick your little cunt? Allow your innocence to pour all over his pathetic dick. Hmm?”
Her eyes widen, her lips trembling. “And if I did?”
My hand shoots out, collaring her delicate little neck I could snap, but I don't. Instead, I press my thumb on her pulsing point. Counting the beats in my mind to calm my own racing heart. “Now is not the time to be brave, Little Moth.”
She swallows and I revel at the feel of it beneath my palm.
“Why does it matter to you?” she whispers, looking in my eyes for something that’s not there. “I know you want me, I-”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl before smashing my lips to hers.
She gasps, causing her mouth to part and grants me access to slip my tongue in. I conquer, take every taste of her lips, her sighs and pants, and fuck, when she moans, I can’t help but push myself into her.
My hands wrap around her thighs, pulling her up my body and walking us towards my room. I want her smell on my fucking pillows. I toss her body on my bed and follow. My hand slips under the soft wool of her seater, hands teasing over the warm skin of her sides and ribs, until I slip my hand in her bra and squeeze her small breast.
Fuck, how many times have I thought about this moment. My hands on her tits, my lips on her while I drive my dick through her innocence.
Her small hands push on my chest, breaking the spell I’m under as I peer down at her. Her eyes, so big and shiny, make me harden impossibly more.
“You stole my first kiss.”
It comes out as an accusation. As if I didn't feel every response she had to me as I pressed into her.
“I’m about to take a lot more.” I growl, my hands slide up her smooth thighs, thankful for her short little skirt giving me easy access. My finger brushes over the wet cotton. Of course, it’s simple cotton. She’s nothing if not predictable. Her breath hitches, lips parting as her eyes close.
“Open your eyes, Moth. You’re going to know exactly who makes you come for the first time.” She does as I demand, rewarding me with the splash of honey I’d love nothing more than to melt in. She is the definition of a honey trap and like everyone else, I always fall victim to her.
Her mouth makes a small ‘O’ as my finger pushes inside her, brushing up against her innocence still intact. I knew it would be, but that doesn’t stop the small relief that washes through me.
“Tell me you want me,” I rasp out, almost completely gone to the lust. Another thing I hated. Losing control. And everything about her is designed to make mine snap.
“I’ll never want you, Trenton,” she moans out.
I smirk, my finger fucking her gently, while my thumb brushes over her clit. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but your pussy is screaming something different.” I pick up my speed, pressing harder and watching as her eyes shatter, her juices flood my fingers and the tears that finally break. She hates that she wants me.
Welcome to the club, sweetheart. I hate it too.
Her hands twist in my shirt as her body lashes against the sheets. As her eyes open, I decided I’ve had enough. Enough waiting.
I tear my shirt over my head, tossing it behind me and taking sick satisfaction in the way her heated eyes take in every inch of me. “Your turn, Moth.”
She’s hesitant, a war going on in her eyes as I kick my sweats off, but she finally relents. Tossing her shirt and bra off, her arms go around her chest. I yank them free. “You’re done hiding from me.”
She drops her hands to her thighs, looking to her lap in embarrassment. If I cared, I’d tell her what a fucking vision she is, but I don’t care. Instead, I help her out of her skirt and panties before crawling between her legs. She looks up to me as I cage my arms around her head. “Will it hurt?” she asks.
My eyes bore into her when I say, “Everything about you hurts.”
I can’t stand the hurt that flashes in her eyes, so I give her real pain. I sink into her in one quick sweep, gritting my teeth at how tight she is. It’s almost painful.
She screams, her eyes squeezed tight as her nails dig into my chest. Usually, I wouldn't stand for a woman to inflict any type of pain on me, but for her, I embrace it. Hoping she physically marks me the way she mentally has. “Does it hurt?” I ask.
“Y-yes,” she breathes out.
“Good,” I growl, pulling out. “Now you know how I feel every time I’m around you.” It’s a lie and the truth and by the way her body shakes, I’ve done exactly what I intended to do. Hurt her.
So why do I feel so fucking guilty?
I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her close and kissing her. I push us into the bed, my hands moving to wrap in her arms, fingers interlocking as I let my weight fall on her. I move inside her gently, kiss her deeper. The act is foreign, I’ve never taken it slow with anyone. But Ana is not just any girl, she’s mine.
Her cries of pain turn into moans of pleasure and I feel myself getting lost in her, but that can’t happen. This can’t fucking happen.
I tear myself away from her. “Flip over, Moth,” I command.