Chapter Seven
You know that little thing inside your head?
That usually sounds like a voice.
That you’re supposed to listen to.
To avoid getting into situations that you shouldn’t be in.
Well, I don’t have one. And I always seem to catch myself in positions I am certain I wouldn’t be in if I had one. There is always an itch that I can never seem to scratch when it comes to my brother. Like my sole purpose in life is to piss him off. And relish the punishments.
Was I in a right mood because Drip sent Roe over when all I wanted was him?
Yes.
Did I piss my brother off, and make him have a guy killed?
Also yes.
Was I going to keep fucking shit up and probably regretting the consequences?
Fuck yes.
‘Pink Maggit’ by Deftones blared from the speakers set up all around Drip’s estate, setting the tone for the night. Just the type of music to get under my skin and electrify my nipples. Something about that slow, metal music always pinched them tight and simmered right under my skin, like it was searing.
There were at least fifty or so people in the garden with us. The rest were inside, playing pool or video games, watching porn, snorting coke of a whore’s asshole, drinking, smoking, or doing whatever they could to get a hit of emotion—or to rid it.
I didn’t judge. They went there to avoid that. The Underground was like the family they never had, one that welcomed them in. Rejects, weirdos, the funny lookers, the offsiders, the unwanted. Drip looked after the little city he’d built.
My brother was consumed by power, possession, control and money. But the one thing he couldn’t grasp was discipline. Ironic, because he hated the word no. Yet he never acted on it. He didn’t need to—Roe did it for him. If only he could see that Drip and I could be much more. Imagine being in such a superior position in life that, with just a click of a finger, someone would submit to your calling and take someone else’s life for you.
Imagine, I couldn’t. That’s where our differences lay. Like I said, I was corrupted. And he wasn’t.
My skin flared from the music, sending tingling waves to my clit. Hot titillation raced through my veins. The song reminded me so much of Drip and I, because I was his dirty little whore, and we were the leaders of it all. He and Roe were in the spa next to me, being absolute fucking idiots, trying to tap each other”s beer bottles on the tops to froth them.
“Drip?” I cooed, keeping my tone of voice low and sensual, like a prissy slut. He pulled his attention from Roe in a what-does-this-needy-bitch-want-now kind of reaction. His eyes narrowed at the lip I was biting in that way. I knew how to get under my brother’s skin, and he always let me.
There was just something about the ”wrong” that I was compelled by. That need for the friction. It didn’t matter if it was his command to fuck someone else or to fuck in front of someone. Begging to make someone bleed for my pleasure, or bleeding for someone’s pleasure. The lust for blood. If it was wrong, I had to do it.
I needed his control. I was his, gladly. Inside and out. And he needed to make sure that I—and everyone he let touch me—knew that.
I closed my eyes for a moment, but that impish grin that liked to mark my face returned, once again provoked by that need for friction.
“I was thinking. We haven’t raced each other in…fuck, how long has it been?” I teased, then posed for a selfie on Snapchat, completely ignoring that I was still covered in blood. Going by the growl that rumbled under his breath, my comment pierced his skin on impact. I knew well and good when our last race together was. But the fucker had to pay some way or another for not fucking me when I had begged him.
I made sure to emphasise the position of my phone for ultimate cleavage, and the perfect ”fuck me face”. I hit send and looked at my brother.
His jaw was tense. Good, it worked. That might ruffle his feathers. Roe shook his head in disapproval and his nose flared, the darkness in his eyes suddenly a shade darker. Except for the bright blue patch.
“I don’t need to race you.” The tone of his voice was etched with denial and temerity.
“You better shut your fucking mouth, before I shove something hard in there and tell the world your dirty little fucking secrets until all you can gargle out is nothing but spit and cum. You’ve caused enough trouble tonight. We don’t need any more of your fucking shit,” Roe added, trying to cloak the anger in his words. Don’t need any more? Oh, you fucking fool…do you not remember that that only entises me more? I’ll fucking give you more.
“Aww, is the big, tough boy getting mad?” I teased.
But he wasn’t just talking about earlier…I had left a mark on his cock the night before, and he made me pay for it. And yet he still hadn’t slipped up my secret yet—killing my brother. Even though Roe was furious, I bet he was hard. As if the night before wasn’t enough…four times. Four fucking times. And hickies from my neck to my clit. Everything hurt, but that didn’t stop me. Nothing did.
Roe’s variegated face showed nothing but intrigue and mischief. I knew that if I kept pissing him off, he was going to eventually tell Drip the real reason our brother, Phantom, died. But in pure Twister style, I never listen to that inside voice that’s supposed to stop you from doing stupid shit.
I giggled, pushing my tits out a little more for another photo and hit send. I had the two of them perplexed, especially Drip. I kept swinging in the egg chair that hung from the ceiling and clutched my phone between my thighs to open the cap of a bottle of Bacardi. I let the liquid burn my throat in delicious torrents as it went down, heating my entire body as it reached my stomach. Like fuel to the fucking fire.
“Ah,” I swallowed another sip. “So…do you think he could outdrift me?” I pressed again in a whiny voice, laughing even louder than before. Drip grumbled under his breath again. He hated the fact that I was a better driver than him. He taught me how to drive, and Phantom. The last race Drip and I had was only hours before our brother died. All three of us, side by side. Drip hadn’t raced me since.
I jolted to a sudden intrusion of pleasure that strung at my clit; a notification dinged on my phone. I swiped to see a little fire emoji with Mitch’s cartoon avatar face highlighted over the photo on Snapchat. He’d liked the pictures I sent him. I saw the little signal that he was typing, and then another notification buzzed. A photo of his helmet with the visor flipped open and the heart emoji eyes filled my screen, and a title spread across the image saying ”Jesus take the wheel. I’m on my way.”
He’d gone with Trent to do whatever it was with the body, but at least he was coming. I liked having him around.
Drip cleared his throat and I tilted my head to look at his narrowed eyes on mine. “You’re digging yourself a bigger hole, T,” he warned.
“What are you gonna do about it, hmm?”
“Ohhh, bro. Let me at her, please!” Roe begged him with a sinister laugh. He was more furious than earlier, now that I had brought up Phantom. It made my nipples tighten again.
“What do we do then, boss?” Drip played, aiming his question to Roe but staring straight at me. I gulped. Was he going to put Roe in charge? Really? Shit. For a split second, I thought of what would happen if he told him. Drip would disown me. But it was only a split second.
Roe leapt out from the spa, his erection on full display through his soaked, waterlogged jeans. I jolted upright as he grabbed the swinging egg, forcing the air to gasp from my mouth. He lifted it higher, so that I was tilted at a ninety-degree angle and slipping further down the chair. Roe shook it vigorously, leaving me no choice but to fall against his chest.
He groaned as I wrapped my legs around him, the tattoo above his eyebrows following his frown. “What to do. What to do with this tedious little thing? Fucking the bitch is only going to reward her for being one,” Roe said to Drip as he knotted a section of my hair in his hand. He tugged my head back and the heat of his breath hounded down my neck, a direct link to my pussy.
“Teach this slut a lesson or two, seeing as me fucking you unconscious wasn’t enough. Let’s see how much that pussy can handle when you can’t cum.” His arousal and loathing filled the air.
I giggled at his tormenting words, the excitement of whatever idea he had only intoxicating my head. The man hated me with such passion that he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in my head, nor feel an inch of remorse. The only thing stopping him was my brother. Roe was the best hate fuck a girl like me could ever ask for. He could fuck you to death, and you’d do nothing but love him for it, begging for more.
“There is definitely something wrong with that fucking head of yours,” he grumbled.
And with that, he carried me out into the garden.