Chapter 29
Lainey
Well, shit. It’s official. I am so screwed. Holland Monroe has slowly taken over my every thought. Every fiber of my being is telling me to run away now and never turn back.
To leave what happened between us, what’s happening between us, in the past. I’m going to get hurt. I’m going to be the one that looks like an idiot at the end of this. I cannot let that happen.
People leave. Everyone leaves. Nobody cares about anyone but themselves, and once you let someone in, it’s your funeral.
One thing I learned from watching my parents up and abandon me every chance they get since I was a baby is that even the people that are supposed to love you can leave you behind.
Maybe it’s cynical, and maybe I’m being dramatic. But is what I’m feeling for Holland worth what I feel every time my parents leave again to go on some extravagant trip without me?
I don’t know. I don’t think it is. All I know is I don’t want to feel like I’m a second option, or a burden, or like I’m being put on the back burner.
Holland makes me feel like I’m important. Like I matter, and what I do and say matters. That’s how I’ve wanted to feel for so long, and this man that I’ve known practically my entire life is making me feel that.
When I received the text back at the table, I knew I should back off. I knew I shouldn’t put my heart out there and let someone have a piece of it.
My mom had texted to let me know that they will not be coming home anytime soon. In fact, she told me they’d be away for the rest of the year on ‘business’. She let me know that I was free to use the house whenever I wanted though. As if it’s not my home and I need permission to be there.
Am I surprised that she sent a text and didn’t bother to call to let me know? No, I’m not. Nothing they do shocks me anymore because I know them. They aren’t meant to be parents, they never were. I just thought they’d be able to grow up and maybe realize that their daughter might need them.
But I don’t need them. I’ve been doing life pretty much on my own my whole life, and I’ve done a pretty good job at it. I may not be a straight A student or a perfect role model, but who cares?
I’ve done the best I could under the circumstances, and I had Mrs. Monroe and Erica, and occasionally Gwen’s mom to help me grow up and show me the ropes.
Who needs parents anyway?
I do often wonder what I would be like if I’d been brought up normally. If I’d had my parents there to raise me and nurture me. Would I be who I am today? Using sex and drinking to cope with my loneliness.
I’ve never really admitted it before, but I am lonely. Yes, I have my friends, and I have the Monroe’s, but not having the two people that should be in my life has taken a toll on me. I’d never tell anyone that, but it does bother me.
Holland is the only one to ever question if I’m really okay. He’s the only one that has ever noticed that I’m not really this party girl that everyone thinks I am. He’s the only person that’s ever called me out on my bullshit, and I think that’s why we’ve always butted heads.
He is the only one that’s seen the real me. The me that not even Gwen, Ellie, or Haley know. The vulnerable, sad, weak me that I’ve tried my hardest to keep hidden, and I hate him for it. But I also love him for it, because I’d probably be completely drowning if someone hadn’t come to save me.
Wait a minute. What the hell did I just say? Did I just say I love him?
No, I do not love Holland Monroe. He is like an annoying dog that won’t stop sniffing you and won’t leave you alone no matter how hard you try to push it away.
I just need to forget this whole week didn’t even happen. I need to forget about the amazing, mind-blowing orgasm he gave me the other night. I need to forget about the way he felt inside me, and the feeling of his body on mine.
Covering my head with a pillow, I groan loudly. I got back to my room two hours ago and I’ve been lying in bed, my mind racing and my body on fire after dancing with Holland all night.
The wedding was absolutely beautiful, and Gwen looked stunning in her wedding dress. The whole ordeal was elegant and magical, just like I knew it would be. Gwen deserves nothing short of a fairytale wedding.
When the slow songs came on, Holland forced me to dance with him.
Well, I guess he didn’t really have to force me, because I went willingly.
It was stupid. It was a bad idea. Everyone saw us dancing together, and I can only imagine what everyone is thinking.
I didn’t want to make a scene, especially on Gwen’s wedding night.
Holland doesn’t care if anyone knows. In fact, I think he’d love to shout it from the rooftops, which I guess should make me feel good about myself, but I just don’t want to jinx it.
I know everyone would be shocked, because up until a couple of weeks ago, it seemed like we hated each other. I also know that my friends want me to be happy, and if Holland makes me happy, they’d want that for me. Even Ellie, who I’m most nervous about finding out because it’s her twin brother.
I won’t know if I never try though, right? Maybe it is time for something good to happen for me. Maybe I do deserve to be happy, and maybe it’s my time now.
I’m being given the chance to be happy. To have something good for myself, and I should take advantage of it.
I mean, Holland is sexy. He’s smart, in a dumb, cute kind of way. He’s funny, and we have fun together. We can joke around with each other without hurting the others feelings, and the tension between us is like nothing I’ve ever felt.
The way I feel like my entire body is on fire when I’m near him. The way my pulse races and adrenaline starts pumping through my veins. The excitement I feel whenever he’s near because I never know what’s going to happen between us.
Lying sprawled across the bed, my bare legs tangled in the rumpled cotton, I feel the faintest ache between my thighs at the reminder of Holland and the feelings I get when he’s near.
My fingers trace idle patterns over the fabric, following the dips and creases where Holland’s weight had pressed the mattress down, where his hands had gripped the sheets like he was trying to anchor himself to the earth.
Closing my eyes, I can still feel the ghost of his touch—rough palms skimming up my inner thighs, his breath hot against my neck as he whispered things that I never imagined coming out of his mouth.
A slow, deep pulse throbs between my legs, my nipples tightening beneath the thin tank top I’d thrown on when I got back to my room.
God, I shouldn’t be thinking about it. Him. Not like this. Not with my fingers drifting lower, teasing the waistband of my panties, my breath already hitching before I’ve even touched myself.
But God, the way he looked at me this morning—the way he looked at me tonight, like I was the only thing in the world worth hunger, worth sin.
His mouth had been everywhere, his words filthier than anything I’d ever let myself imagine coming from the boy I grew up with, and I’d taken it all, arching into him, begging for more without shame.
A sharp buzz from my phone jolts me out of the haze. Who is texting me this early in the morning? It’s three in the morning, and everyone I know is in this hotel.
Reaching for it blindly, my heart kicks up a notch when I see Holland’s name flash across the screen.
Satan’s Spawn
Satan’s Spawn
Still thinking about how
tight you were around
my fingers.
My breath catches. The screen blurs for a second as my thumb hovers over the keys, my body reacting before my brain can catch up—my pussy clenching, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in my belly.
Holy fuck. He’s thinking about it too?
I should ignore it, right? I should be good and just let this thing fizzle out because I know it can’t lead to anything good.
Yes, that’s what I should I do. Rolling my eyes, I toss the phone aside, pretending like I wasn’t already half a second from slipping my hand into my panties and finishing what he’s started.
But the memory of his voice, rough and dark in her ear…
“You’re such a good girl when you’re dripping for me…”
My thighs press together, and before I can stop myself, I’m snatching up my phone, my fingers flying over the keys.
Satan’s Spawn
Me
Oh, are you?
Satan’s Spawn
You have no idea. I’ve
been thinking about your
pussy all night. The way it
felt around my fingers and
my cock. The little noises
you made… Do you
remember?
Me
I remember. I remember
you being all talk until I
had to show you how it’s
done.
The response was instant, like he’d been waiting.
Satan’s Spawn
Oh, baby, you’re gonna
pay for that.
His next message followed so fast it might as well have been one.
Satan’s Spawn
I can still taste you on my
tongue. Sweet little cunt,
so desperate you were
riding my face like you
owned it. Bet you’re wet just
reading this.
Oh man is he right. My free hand fists in the sheets, my nails digging into my palm. I can hear his voice in the words, that low, smug drawl that makes my skin prickle. My thumb brushes over my clit through the damp fabric of my panties, a whimper escaping my lips before I can bite it back.
Me
Maybe I am. What are
you gonna do about it?
The dots dance on the screen for what feels like the longest minute of my life before his message pops up.
Satan’s Spawn
I’m gonna make you come
so hard you forget your own
name. Then I’m gonna fuck
that smart mouth of yours
until you’re choking on my
cock, tears running down
your face while you take it
like the greedy little slut you
are.
A broken sound tears from my throat, my back arching off the bed. Okay, what the fuck was that? I’ve never heard him speak that way, and holy fuck was it the hottest shit I’ve ever heard.