Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
AUGUST
W e’re at a bar on a Thursday night, Cyrus and me. One pretty far off campus so there aren’t a lot of college students in here, thank Christ. I want to drink my bourbon in peace. Not surrounded by a bunch of rowdy frat boys and their overly made-up girlfriends whose tits are practically falling out of their shirts.
I sound like an old ass man. Cyrus tells me that too after I grumble about something minute, like the way the server winked at me after handing me my drink. She’s practically my mother’s age for the love of God.
“You need to ease up,” Cyrus tells me once the server is gone. “You’re tense as fuck.”
I say nothing. Just sip from my glass and let the irritation simmer in my gut.
“When was the last time you got laid anyway? You’ve been acting like a complete dickhead for a week,” Cyrus continues.
My mind goes to Sin in the bathroom. Me on my knees in front of her, my face in her cunt, her clit between my lips. Her fingers sliding into my hair, keeping me in place, like she was worried I might stop .
The moment lives on replay in my brain. Her alluring scent, her soft skin and musky taste. The way she called out my name when I made her come. How she took my fingers so well even though I stretched her out on purpose. I wanted to hurt her, like I’m some sadistic fuck.
She never really protested. Just begged me for more.
I can’t stop thinking about her and it’s aggravating as shit.
“I got laid last night.” I think Cyrus is having a conversation with himself, since I’m not participating. “And it was a complete letdown.”
“Why?” I can’t help but ask.
“Terrible kisser.”
“You usually don’t care about that sort of thing.” Cyrus doesn’t like to kiss women. I’m not a fan of it either. Only because kissing leads to romantic thoughts and I’m not a romantic.
But Sinclair’s perfect, puffy lips won’t get out of my head, no matter how hard I try, and I’m dying to stuff my cock inside her mouth. Come down her throat, just like I promised.
“I liked her.” Cyrus keeps his gaze fixed on his glass, which he is currently twirling in between his fingers. It’s already empty and I glance down at mine to find it’s empty as well. “She had a nice laugh.”
“Had? What did you do, kill her in her sleep?”
Cyrus bursts out laughing. “Of course not. I would never let her sleep over. You know this.”
I’m grinning. So is Cyrus.
“Tell me why you’re so damn bitchy all the time.”
“I take offense to that.” I don’t sound offended at all.
“No you don’t because you know it’s true. What’s your problem? Is it a woman? That faceless one you can’t remember fucking?”
“Who?” I am genuinely confused .
A long worn-out sigh escapes my best friend. “I guess it’s not that particular woman. Who is it then?”
I don’t want to admit anything to him, and he’s my closest ally on this campus. In my entire life. I could never tell my siblings about her. Iris is too nosy, bossy and has a big mouth. Vaughn is too young and while he is most definitely a Lancaster, I would shock his virgin ears with my lustful thoughts about Sinclair Miller.
Iris would also find it infinitely amusing that I’m obsessed with the girl I used to bully. She’d tell me that’s my ultimate karma, especially if Sinclair got back at me for my past actions. My sister would eat that shit up.
I also can’t tell my parents anything. My mother doesn’t need to hear about my illicit affairs and my father would give me unnecessary advice that I would never take. Not that I don’t respect him, but the man has been obsessed with my mother since they were fourteen years old. He just knew as he’s always told me, and I have no idea what that’s like. To have that instant connection. Like a lightning strike. Boom, you’re done for. Obsessed forever.
“You don’t know her,” is how I start and no joke, Cyrus rubs his hands together like a greedy villain.
“This ought to be good.”
I launch into the story of how I supposedly bullied Sinclair when she was a freshman at Lancaster Prep. I don’t quite remember all the details and I haven’t had a chance to look at a yearbook yet because what’s the point. I tell him about our recent interactions. End it with the one in the bathroom at the suite, giving him a few details but not all of them. Some things are sacred.
Sacred? Seriously, something is so fucking wrong with me, I don’t know what to do about it.
“And now you want to see her again,” Cyrus says once I’m finished talking .
I nod, miserable. Confused. Angry. “It makes zero sense.”
He says nothing.
“She’s eighteen. A baby. She’ll probably run the moment I try and shove my dick in her face.”
“You’re saying you want to see her again.”
A ludicrous statement. “No.” Cyrus’s brows shoot up. “Maybe.”
The server arrives with a fresh set of highballs full of their best bourbon. “Thought you gentlemen might need a refill.”
“Ah, I love that you’re a mind reader, Denise.” Cyrus smiles at her as she places the glasses on the table and removes the finished ones. “Thank you.”
The moment she sashays away from us, I’m giving him shit. “Denise?”
He shrugs, taking a healthy sip from his fresh glass. “We come here often. I asked what her name was.”
“Interesting.” I grab my glass and sling it back like I’m trying to get drunk. Maybe I am.
“Stop trying to change the conversation. Let’s get back to your girl.”
I grimace. “She’s not my girl, though that is an apt descriptor for what she is. Just a girl.”
“An eighteen-year-old pussy hasn’t been touched much.” Cyrus smiles to himself, staring at the inside of his glass while he speaks. “You into that sort of thing?”
Am I? I never gave it much thought. “I don’t think she’s ever been with…anyone.”
“Ever?”
“Except me.” A primal sensation swirls in the depths of my gut at the thought. Pretty little untouched Sin. Corrupted by me and no one else.
“And I think you’re enjoying that.” Cyrus sets his half-full glass onto the table between us. “Sick fucker.”
“It’s not my usual kink. You know this. ”
Virgins are terrified. Literally. Of men like us. Of men in general. Or so I thought. Once upon a time, I was a virgin. We all are at some point. But I have now fucked a variety of women, always steering clear of anyone who gives off even a hint of innocence nowadays.
With the exception of this woman.
“Are you wanting to pursue something with her?” Cyrus asks.
“Define something.”
“Serious? A relationship? Make her your…girlfriend?” His voice rises, and if he’s trying to sound feminine, it’s not working.
My grimace deepens with his every suggestion. “Absolutely not.” It’s my automatic response always.
“Then what are your plans?”
“Do I have to plan anything? Can’t I just—toy with her?” My smile feels menacing. I’m sure I look like a serial killer.
“You sound like a serial killer.”
“You’re a mind reader.” I glance up, making eye contact with the server, and I flash her my most disarming smile. I can tell I terrify her and she’d rather deal with Cyrus, but she still makes her way over to us.
“Need another refill?”
“Please. And a menu, if you have one.” My smile widens and I lick my tongue across my teeth. “I’m suddenly starving.”