8. Easton
EASTON
I remember when a party at Carter’s house meant the kind of night that would make one of those ancient Roman orgies look like a game night at the retirement home.
When I could see female flesh, everywhere I looked—firm and full, dripping wet from the pool, lying across a lounge chair and just waiting to be touched. Wild nights I’ll never forget.
Good thing, since Carter’s basically an old woman now that he has a girlfriend.
“You would think having your own house would mean you could get even wilder than you did before.” I know I sound like I’m complaining in Kellan’s ear as we set up one of three kegs in the backyard. That’s not going to stop me. “It’s like he’s doing everything backward.”
Kellan doesn’t do much talking, but he does when it matters. He shrugs a shoulder before muttering, “He’s got a girlfriend now. It’s not the same. And Elliana has a say in things, too. She lives here.”
If there’s one thing I’m not in the mood for tonight, it’s having somebody remind me I’m being unreasonable. “It’s selfish,” I decide. “He gets all the pussy he wants, and the rest of us have to be deprived?”
“Since when are you deprived?” Kellan rolls his eyes and chuckles before hitting me with an elbow. “What’s up your ass? Volunteer work suck today?”
“Don’t remind me of it.” Of course it sucked. It’s always going to suck for as long as Dad thinks we deserve to suffer.
“Have a beer.” He taps the first keg, and before long, hands me a red cup topped with suds. “Forget about it for tonight.”
The thing is, I wish playing nice around a bunch of sick people was all I had on my mind tonight.
I feel like everybody’s looking at me. Like they all know. That’s impossible—there’s no way. It was a dream, that’s all. Maybe the most vivid dream I ever had.
So vivid, I woke up with my dick aching and dripping.
And with Emma’s face still fresh in my head. The way she was just before I woke up: on her knees in the elevator, with my hand on the back of her head so I could move her delicious, wet mouth up and down my shaft.
I have no idea where it came from. The closest she has ever come to my cock so far is when her knee hit my balls. The last thing she’d want to do is suck me off.
And maybe that’s where the dream came from. I was in control. Making her do things to me, setting the pace, surging in her mouth when she moaned around me.
She wanted it. She wanted it bad. Those big eyes staring straight through me while her tongue?—
Yeah, I need to stop thinking about this right now.
It’s bad enough I spent the day zoning out, seeing her looking up at me at the most random times.
I’m already starting to twitch in my boxer briefs by the time we go into the house, which is filling with people.
She is the last thing I need to think about tonight, or ever.
But there is plenty of warm, willing meat walking through the door who would be a good substitute. Obviously, jerking off this morning wasn’t enough to get that bizarre dream out of my system. Burying myself balls deep in a tight, hot pussy? That’s a different story.
For now, I’ll take my time, hanging out in the living room and surveying my choices for the night while my friends talk around me. “At least nobody puked on me today,” Preston grumbles. “So it wasn’t as bad, but I still wouldn’t recommend it or anything.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you would’ve deserved it a little bit if somebody did throw up on you.” Maya narrows her eyes at my brother from Tucker’s lap. “After what you did yesterday to that girl.”
“I feel sorry for her.” Elliana sits on the arm of the chair Carter is stretched out in.
Like Maya, she doesn’t bother hiding her feelings, scowling at Preston.
“I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been around very long, but I feel like I should say that.
She doesn’t have any friends around here, and now everybody knows she had her wig ripped off in class. You know how mean people can be.”
“Yes. He knows,” Maya murmurs loud enough for me to hear. Obviously, the guys are too scared of their women to speak up.
“It’s not that simple,” I argue, and of course, the girls roll their eyes.
“Like you wouldn’t defend your twin?” Wren asks with a soft laugh. “Come on.”
“The situation with her is different.” I don’t care that Preston can speak for himself. “No offense, but you don’t get it.”
“He’s right,” Preston agrees in a voice much darker than mine. He’s the one getting criticized, and it’s pissing him off. Call it a twin thing. I can sort of feel the tension cranking up like a coiled spring ready to pop. “You don’t.”
“Okay, fine.” She waves her beer, shrugging, and it’s the right thing to do. This isn’t the time for her to get all up in a crusade or whatever she thinks she’s doing. “Whatever you say.”
“This is supposed to be a party.” Carter stands, grabbing Elliana by the hand. “Let’s go be hosts or something. I already hear people jumping in the pool,” he adds. Sure enough, there’s some pretty loud splashing coming from the back of the house, along with cheers and squealing.
“I could use the excuse to cool off,” Tucker decides. Good. Maya needs to cool off a little, too.
And so do I, though the pool is not going to help what’s bothering me.
One girl after another walks through the room, drinking, dancing to the music blaring from the sound system hooked up to the TV.
Usually, jiggling asses and bouncing tits are two of my favorite diversions.
Throw in a knowing smile, and I’m ready for anything.
Tonight, it feels kind of hollow. My heart’s not in it and every time I try to distract myself by paying attention to the girls, all I can see is Emma—or at least the Emma who existed in my dream, on her knees, at my mercy.
The girl can ruin things without even being here. That’s gotta be some kind of gift.
“I need another beer,” I announce to my brother and anybody else nearby. I’m not even sure why I’m here, with the mood I’m in. Like there’s always something over my shoulder, watching me, hanging on me and dragging me down. I can’t shake it.
I can’t shake her. It doesn’t matter how many warm, soft bodies are pressing against me as I make my way back down the hall through a crowd that’s getting thicker all the time. The kitchen is packed by the time I reach it, with the doors to the backyard open so people can walk freely in and out.
“Easton! We’re doing chicken fights!” A pair of long, slim arms wrap around me from behind.
I don’t even know who they belong to. I only know there’s a pair of firm tits pressed against my back and a few strands of blonde hair brushing my arm.
“Be my partner? I’ve always wanted to sit on your face—I mean, shoulders,” she adds with a giggle.
I should, shouldn’t I? It’s the kind of thing I’ve done more times than I can even remember.
Stupid, fun shit that gives me an excuse to have a girl’s legs wrapped around me.
Falling down and grabbing a few good feels underwater never hurts, either.
And it usually ends up leading somewhere even better.
I should agree. I should go straight out there, strip down, and jump in headfirst.
“Or maybe I can just sit on your face instead?” The blonde slides one hand down my abs, then teases my waistband with her fingertips. “There are plenty of ways to get me wet without going in the pool.”
There’s something wrong with me. I hear her.
I know what she’s saying. I feel her touch.
I smell her perfume and shampoo, and all that.
I should be hard as a rock, ready to go.
We should be on our way to my truck right now, where I can recline my seat so she can ride my face until the shocks wear out.
But all I can do is stare out at a sea of heads and wish one of them had blonde curls. That’s all I want. To feed her my cock until she chokes on it, then force her to keep going until I’m satisfied.
“Not right now,” I decide, and at least I’m gentle when I pull the girl’s arms away from me.
I don’t even know who she is for sure, and I don’t bother taking the time to figure it out, continuing through the kitchen to the bathroom.
Beyond that is the garage, which seems quiet and dark.
I almost wish I was in there alone so I can get my shit together.
But the bathroom will do fine for now. There’s nobody waiting—a small miracle.
I waste no time going in and locking the door behind me before leaning against it, scrubbing my hands over my face.
Am I sick? I’m almost wishing I was. At least I could explain away the discomfort tearing me up insides.
Is it because I’m tired of all the same people doing the same shit we’ve always done?
So bored that I need a distraction, even if that distraction is somebody I wish I’d never met?
Somebody Preston painted a target on yesterday in class?
Maybe he’s glad we’re not the only ones paying attention to her now, but I’m not. That was our thing. Nobody else has as much of a reason as we do to make pearls wish she was never born. I’m not trying to outsource this to a bunch of people who change opinions whenever somebody tells them to.
I’m also not trying to make her feel uncomfortable around school. I’m looking to own her for what she’s done to us. I need her to know she made the biggest mistake of her life the night she decided she would become a crusader.
Her second mistake: what she did to me in the elevator.
One memory leads to another, and I can’t help but close my eyes and see her in my head.
Looking up at me with wide eyes full of fear and dread.
My dick thickens until my shorts are too tight.
That smart mouth of hers would feel so good wrapped around me.
She can’t be shitty and insulting with my cock hitting the back of her throat.
Fuck, it’s too much. There’s a wet spot soaking into my shorts by the time I shove a hand under my waistband and pull my aching dick free. The precum leaking from the tip makes it easy for my fist to slide up and down my length.
Only it’s not my fist. It’s pearls. Emma. Emma on her knees, running her tongue over me, pressing it against my underside. I can hear her strangled groans. Her panicky whimpers when I cut off her air by shoving her hard against my base. The feeling of filling her mouth, choking her.
Faster, faster, my fist is a blur by the time I give over to the pressure building in my balls and, for the second time today, imagine drowning her in my cum.
Filling her throat and her mouth while blissful sensations roll through me in one warm wave after another.
Her tearful, flushed face still lingers in my mind’s eye by the time the rush starts to fade.
There’s even saliva and jizz leaking down her chin before I open my eyes to face reality again.
I came all over the counter. What the fuck is happening to me?
After taking a minute to clean up using stuff stored under the sink, I wash my hands and splash cold water on my cheeks. There’s a haunted look in my eyes when I meet my reflection in the mirror. Get your shit together.
I have to. There’s no other choice.
Especially with so many voices starting to get louder on the other side of the door. “Who’s in there?” somebody asks, while other people laugh and take bets on who’s getting off in here. They’re half right, anyway. I just didn’t have a partner except in my imagination.
Instead of opening the door to some random person, I open it to somebody who looks just like me. “There you are.” Preston rolls his eyes while the people behind him let out groans like they’re disappointed once they see I’m alone in here.
I don’t like his tone, especially in front of people. “Sorry. Was I supposed to check in with you before I took a piss?”
His jaw tightens before he jerks his head toward the garage door.
I need to get out of here anyway and free up the room, so I follow him in there, waiting for him to flip on a light before joining him in what’s actually a pretty well-organized space.
“I know this is all Elliana,” I decide as I look around at the shelves of storage bins.
Some of them are even labeled. “No way Carter is doing this on his own.”
Preston doesn’t seem interested in their organizational scheme. “You didn’t need to get an attitude with me back there. Now everybody’s gonna think there’s a problem between us.”
“Who gives a shit what anybody thinks?” I have to ask as I move deeper into the garage.
Am I deliberately putting space between us?
I think I am, even if subconsciously, and I don’t know why.
He’s the one person I’ve never gotten tired of being around.
He’s my other half. But right now, he’s the last person I want to see.
Because of the way he’s looking at me. Like he thinks he’s Dad all of a sudden. “I thought you were going to throw down with Maya before. What is it with you? You’ve been on edge all day.”
“What’s with the interrogation?”
“What’s with your fucking pissy attitude?” he barks, making me come to a standstill in surprise. “Do me a favor and spare me, because I’m not going to put up with it.”
There’s a long time where all we do is look at each other from across the garage, the only sound our harsh breathing.
We fight like any other brothers, and our fights can be intense.
But somehow, there’s something different about this.
There’s tension in the air, like electricity makes my arm hair stand on end.
“Is that it?” I ask after a few drawn-out moments. “Do you have something else to get off your chest?”
With narrowed eyes, he asks, “What about your chest? Because I’m starting to think you’ve got something you need to get off of it. You better do it now.”
Right. Because if there’s one thing I respond well to, it’s being bossed around. Talked down to. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
All he does is snort softly, look me up and down, and shake his head. “Whatever.” That’s all he says before going back into the house and closing the door harder than he needs to, leaving me on my own.
Her fault. My brother just walked away from me in the middle of an argument, looking at me like he didn’t care and didn’t even know me, and it’s all because of her. This isn’t us. We don’t usually carry this tension and animosity. But I have felt it toward him all day, now that I think about it.
And it’s because of her. Because of him bringing her to everybody else’s attention, like we have to compete to make her miserable.
It’s because she exists. Because she’s poison.
And I’m starting to think it’s too late to flush her out of my system.