Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
MACKENZIE
“Y ou did what? Fuck, Kenz. This obsession you have with the man is gonna get you both hurt.” Jenson runs his hands over his face. “He’s married to your mother.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“But you’re still dipping your feet in shark-filled water?”
I knock back a shot of tequila, then climb onto his lap. “You’re just jealous.”
He squeezes my ass. “Oh, Kenz, if I wanted in this pussy right now, you’d welcome me.”
“But she doesn’t want in, does she?” Heath says from behind me, before carrying me off Jenson’s lap and placing me on his. We fuck, we play, but that is all we’ll ever be.
The party is in full swing at Jenson’s house. One of the final parties of our senior year. Heath would have been done with college if he ever bothered to attend and I can’t imagine what the next few years are going to be like. The Guild has been my family for so long, but as we approach the end of our senior year, I can't help but feel like everything is changing. The dynamic between us is shifting, and I'm not sure how to handle it. Sure, being members of the Guild will mean we get to see each other more often than most people who go off to college, but Jenson is looking at schools in New York, and who knows where Larken is planning to go, so as much as we want things to be the same, it won’t be.
“How are you?” Heath asks, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. “Really.”
“I feel fucking free,” I say before tugging his bottom lip between my teeth. “Gordon Yates is gone. That monster can’t hurt me anymore.”
Heath’s fingers tighten around my waist, his grip possessive, grounding. His obsidian eyes—too sharp, too knowing—search my face. I don’t like that. I don’t like him seeing the cracks, the fractures I’ve spent years perfecting.
“You feel free,” he echoes, voice low, but there’s something in it that makes my stomach twist.
I smirk, pulling back slightly, running my fingers through his dark hair. “Yeah.” I press my lips to his jaw, just to remind him who I am. What I do. “I can finally fucking breathe.”
Larken appears beside us, already sipping from a bottle of whiskey. He studies me for a long moment, then turns to Heath. “She’s lying.”
I roll my eyes, snatching the bottle from him and taking a long pull. It burns all the way down, but I welcome the sting. “Why does everyone assume they know me better than I know myself?”
Heath’s fingers trail up my spine, slow and deliberate. “Because we do .”
Jenson scoffs, dragging a hand through his hair. “Listen, babe, no one just moves on from shit like that. Not even you.”
I push off Heath’s lap, ignoring the way my head spins. “You’re all so fucking dramatic.” I gesture around the room, at the chaos of the party—the music pulsing, bodies pressed together, the smell of liquor thick in the air. “This is life. This is what matters. Not ghosts. Not the past.”
Larken lifts a brow. “Not Creed?”
I freeze.
It’s barely noticeable, but Heath catches it. His lips curl into something cruel. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Not your father. Him.”
My stomach twists violently. “He’s married to my mother.”
“And?” Heath smirks. “Since when has that stopped you?”
I chuck the bottle at him. He barely dodges it, laughing. “Careful, Kenz. Starting to sound like you care.”
I do.
I fucking do.
And it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever felt.
Because I know Creed. I know the way he thinks, the way he hurts. I know he’s pulling away, shutting down. And I know exactly why.
Because of her.
Because of the fucking deal my mother made him take.
“I should go,” I mutter, brushing past them.
“Kenz.” Heath catches my wrist, holding me back. His voice is quieter now, steadier. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t.”
I smile, sharp and unforgiving. “Who says I’m planning anything?”
His grip tightens. “Because I know you.”
I yank my hand free and take a step back. “Then you should know better than to try and stop me.”
Because this isn’t over.
Not even fucking close.
* * *
The lights in the main house glow against the night, illuminating the silhouettes inside. My fingers curl into fists as I step closer, the mixture of tequila shots and whiskey in my veins make everything seem just a little slower, a little more surreal. I hum to the music from the party that’s still ringing in my ears, but I stop the second I see them.
Creed and my mother. Together. She’s pressed up against him, her hands tangled in his hair, her mouth on his like she fucking owns him. Like he’s hers. He will never be hers.
A slow, sickening burn spreads through my chest, curling its way up my throat until I can taste the bitterness on my tongue. My pulse pounds violently against my skin. She might have forced his hand, but this? This display of affection, I will not accept.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.
I grab the nearest thing—something solid, something heavy. A brick. My fingers tighten around it, my nails biting into my palm, and before I can register what I’m doing, I throw.
The sound of shattering glass explodes into the night.
The impact is immediate—jagged shards raining onto the floor. My mother stumbles back with a scream, then Creed’s head snaps toward me.
His eyes lock on mine.
And for a split second, there’s something there. Something dark and furious.
“Kenzie, what the hell?” My mother’s voice is shrill as she shoves open the door, storming outside like she actually has the right to be fucking angry.
I laugh. It’s sharp and hollow and tastes like whiskey and rage. “It was just disgusting to witness,” I say, my voice dripping venom. “Couldn’t help myself. You two disgust me.”
I don’t give her time to respond.
I don’t give him time to say a fucking word.
I just turn on my heel and head for the pool house, slamming the door shut behind me.
The tequila is a fire in my bloodstream, making my movements sloppy, reckless. But I don’t fucking care. I’m drunk enough not to give a single shit about the consequences of my actions.
Not tonight.
* * *
Pleasure stirs me awake, and I look down to find Creed between my legs, his tongue deep inside me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, coming up for air then diving right back in. He is gloriously naked, his tattoos on full display.
I moan, unable to form coherent thoughts as Creed works his magic on me. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this, but it feels too good to stop. My legs spread wider, my hands clutch at the sheets, my hips bucking up to meet his mouth as I chase my release. When it finally hits me, I cry out, my body convulsing with pleasure. Creed pulls away, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he crawls up my body.
“That's what you wanted, isn't it?” he says, his voice low and husky as he continues to fuck me, with his fingers this time. “Didn’t like seeing me kiss her, did you?”
“Do you think I give a fuck? I had every hole filled tonight.”
The rage in his eyes is unmistakable. Creed straddles my chest, and I know what he’s about to do. “This is how I deal with bad girls, Mackenzie.”
He thrusts his cock into my mouth, and I can barely breathe with the weight of him on me. “Through your nose, little demon. Breathe through your nose.”
I try to comply, but my airway feels blocked by his girth. Fuck I love Creed’s idea of punishment, but the tears and saliva streaming down my face make it hard to focus. Creed's grip on my hair tightens as he forces himself deeper into my mouth. The taste of him is intoxicating. This is the punishment I’ve craved, the price of my obsession with him.
As he pulls out of my mouth, I gasp for air, but he doesn't give me a chance to recover, and my throat is raw from his rough treatment. He flips me over, and I feel his rough hands on my ass, spreading me open.
“Creed. Fuck, no. I haven’t prepared…”
Without warning, he enters my pussy from behind, and I cry out in pleasure and pain.
“Next time, I’ll have your ass, little demon. But for now, this pussy will do.”
His thrusts are hard and unforgiving, and I can feel the sting of his hand on my skin as he spanks me. Once. Twice. A million fucking times. I moan and writhe beneath him, feeling like I'm on fire.
For what feels like an eternity, he pounds into my pussy, taking out all his anger and frustration. My body rocks beneath him, tits bouncing. I can feel myself getting close to the edge, but I know better than to come without his permission. I bite down on my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but the pleasure is almost too much to bear.
His hands dig into my flesh as he thrusts faster. His fingers dig into my flesh as he pulls me back onto him, and I know I'll be bruised tomorrow. “There is one thing you need to understand, Mackenzie. I don’t give a fuck about Amelia. I never will. But I have to survive,” he pants, his rhythm steady.
But right now, all I can think about is the pleasure coursing through my body. I want to scream out his name for all to hear, especially my bitch of a mother, tell him how good it feels, but I know better. So, I just moan and pant, letting him use my body for his pleasure. My body was meant to be his.
“I’m coming,” I whimper.
“Me too, he growls. As we reach our climax together, his hot cum fills me. I should be scared of how reckless we’ve been, but I can’t think about anything outside of this moment.
He collapses on top of me, his breath hot on my neck. As if reading my mind, he whispers, “I’ve never fucked anyone raw, not even her, little demon, and I know you’re on the pill.”
I smirk into my pillow. We lay there for a few moments, trying to catch our breath. I know that what we just did was wrong, that it could never be anything more than what it is, but at this moment, I don't care. All I want is him.
“You’re mine, demon,” he whispers in my ear. “And don’t you ever forget that. I don’t want any other man touching what’s mine.”
“Unfortunately, you don’t get to fucking say things like that! I belong to no-one.” I pull away from him, climbing off the bed and going to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I hear the door to the pool house shut and I know he’s gone-back to her.
* * *
The sun beats down on my skin, heating me up as I lounge by the pool, surrounded by scantily clad friends. This party is just what I need to get Creed off my mind. I’m eighteen, this is how I should be spending my birthday, with friends, getting drunk, high or both.
I am sick of being Creed’s dirty little secret. He and my mother are away again, and I’m relieved to have the property to myself. I can fuck any guy I want here; I don’t need to be waiting around for my mother’s sloppy seconds. Whether Creed Torres wants me or not is irrelevant. He’s been ignoring me, and I am not used to men avoiding me. I’m Mackenzie Yates.
Larken swims up the edge of the pool, a smirk on his handsome face. “Is the birthday girl coming in already?” he asks.
“I will,” I say. “Let me just drink a little more first.” His attention is quickly drawn to a girl sashaying by. Roxy, I think. Tall, caramel skin, legs for days. Just his type. Anyone’s type really. He starts to chat her up, and I bring my plastic cup to my lips and taste the salty tang of a margarita. It's my sixth one today, but I'm hardly counting. It's my party, after all, and I plan on making it a memorable one. Like Miley said, It's our party, we can do what we want .
I turn my attention to the pool where Heath is shamelessly flirting with Larken’s sister, Leah. The music blasting through the speakers is loud but not loud enough to drown out the chatter.
Flynn walks up to me, his toned abs glistening in the sun. His wet brown hair hangs over eyes, and his smile has a way of making me weak in the knees and wet in more ways than one. My eyes trail down to his low-slung swim trunks showing off his muscular thighs.
“Kenz,” he says, his voice deep and smooth. “Come on. Let’s get wasted! It’s not every day you turn eighteen.”
“Where’s the Princess?”
“Who the fuck knows. Not here and that suits me just fine.” It’s so obvious he’s into his step-sister, but my best friend is about as complex as I am. We all are.
His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, and the heat of his body, and the scent of his cologne is intoxicating. Flynn Drake is so fucking gorgeous.
“I think I have a better idea,” I say, biting my bottom lip.
“Oh, yeah?” He grins.
I take his hand and lead him toward the main house and my mother’s bedroom, then push him against the wall, pressing my lips to his.
He doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second, his tongue pushing through my lips and searching for mine. My fingers run through his hair, pulling him closer to me. His hands slide down my back, tracing the curves of my body, and I moan softly in response. The heat between us is intense, and my body responds as expected, my pussy pulsing. I press my body closer to his, wanting to feel every inch of him against me. In another life, I would end up with one of my boys, but not in this one.
He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes, his gaze full of desire. “God, you're so fucking sexy,” he whispers before leaning in to kiss me again, more hungrily.
His erection presses against my stomach, and I know he wants this as badly as I do. The thought sends shivers down my spine. This is exactly the kind of distraction I need to get Creed off my mind. I don’t wait around for men. They come to me. They fall to their knees to worship my pussy.
We break apart, both of us breathing heavily.
In minutes I’m tearing at his swim shorts until we’re on my mother’s bed with him hovering over me. This is where Creed fucks her. Flynn cups my breasts letting out a desperate growl when he undoes my bikini bra.
“Fuck, these tits.” He leans in and sucks a nipple into his mouth while kneading the other one.
“Yeah, like that,” I moan, my back arching off the bed.
I can feel the wetness between my legs growing with each flick of his tongue against my nipple and his cock pressing against my core.
“Make me forget, Flynn.”
I push my hands through his hair, pulling him closer as I ride the waves of pleasure that are beginning to consume me. His hands move down to my bikini bottoms, teasing the fabric before he pulls them off completely.
His fingers dance along the inside of my thighs, inching closer and closer to my aching core. When he finally reaches his destination, he lets out a low groan, clearly pleased with what he finds there. He slips a finger inside of me, slowly at first but then with increasing urgency as I moan and writhe beneath him.
Just as I feel myself on the brink of orgasm, the door bursts open and none other than Creed walks in. His eyes darken as he takes in the scene before him. Flynn looks over his shoulder, “Get the fuck out of here, man.”
I smirk at the man glaring at us, in full attack mode.
Creed doesn’t move. He just stands there, his chest rising and falling in sharp, controlled breaths, his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark, murderous.
Flynn is seething beside me, clearly pissed off, but he doesn’t back down. “I told you to get the fuck out, man,” he says, voice low and edged with warning.
Creed ignores him. His gaze stays locked on mine, burning through me with a rage that I can feel.
“What the fuck are you doing, Mackenzie?” he growls.
I let out a sharp laugh, rolling onto my side, propping my head up with my hand like this whole thing is just some big joke. “What does it look like, Creed?” I snap, my voice dripping with venom. “We were about to fuck. And you’re still standing there like you have a goddamn right to be pissed about it.”
His nostrils flare. “Get. Out.”
Flynn scoffs. “Yeah, not happening.”
And then Creed moves.
Fast.
Before Flynn can react, Creed has him by the arm, yanking him off the bed with brutal force. Flynn stumbles, stark naked, barely catching himself before Creed shoves him back again.
“You think you can touch her?” Creed seethes, his voice a deadly whisper. “You think I’ll fucking allow it?”
Flynn grits his teeth. “She’s not yours, man.”
The room feels like it shrinks, the air crackling with something raw and violent.
I sit up, watching, heart pounding, body still burning from where I was seconds away from oblivion.
Creed stares Flynn down like he’s seconds away from putting him in the ground.
Flynn grits his teeth and doesn’t hesitate—his fist swings fast, catching Creed square in the mouth. The sound of knuckles meeting flesh echoes through the room. Creed stumbles back, blood beading at the split in his lip, but the pain doesn’t register—only the fury.
Creed lunges, tackling Flynn, and they crash into the dresser, sending a lamp to the floor with a shattering sound. They trade brutal punches, each one landing with sickening force. Flynn is quick, his years of training making him a worthy opponent, but Creed fights like a man possessed. His elbow slams into Flynn’s ribs, making him grunt in pain, but Flynn counters with a hook to Creed’s jaw.
They grapple, muscles straining, both of them breathing hard, neither backing down.
Flynn finally shoves Creed off him, panting, his own lip split. He wipes the blood from his mouth and laughs darkly. “You’re lucky she doesn’t want you dead,” he spits, voice laced with contempt. “If it were up to me, I’d put you in the fucking ground for what you’ve done to her.”
Creed glares at him, chest heaving, but doesn’t respond. His eyes flicker back to me instead, dark and unreadable.
Flynn shakes his head, muttering a curse as he grabs his shorts off the floor pulling them on. “Call me when you’re done being his mistress,” he mutters, then storms out, slamming the door behind him.
The silence that follows is thick, suffocating.
Creed turns to me, eyes still blazing, his lip still bleeding.
“What the fuck was that?” he grits out.
I lift my chin, refusing to let him see how much his presence, his reaction , is unraveling me.
“What do you care?” I bite out. “You married my mother , Creed. You made your choice.”
His jaw tightens. “That’s not—”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “No? Then what the fuck is it? Because from where I’m sitting, you sure as hell don’t get to storm in here acting like you own me.”
His eyes flash. “I do own you, little demon.”
Something in me snaps. I push off the bed, standing toe to toe with him, my chest heaving.
“You don’t,” I whisper. “Not anymore.”
His hand moves before I can stop him, fingers curling around my jaw, forcing me to look at him. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm. Unyielding.
“You really think you can fuck your way into forgetting me?” he murmurs, his voice lethal.
I glare at him. “I think I can try .”
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, slow, deliberate. “He wouldn’t have been able to make you come,” he murmurs. “Not like I do.”
I hate that he’s right.
I hate that my body reacts to him, that even now, after everything, he still owns me .
I hate him .
I shove him away, breathless, shaking. “Get out, Creed.”
For a moment, he just looks at me.
Then, he closes the distance between us, his hand circling my neck, his lips pressing against mine. I feel like I’m falling and flying all at once.
His tongue invades my mouth, and I moan against his lips, pushing him away.
“I fucking hate you!” He growls.