AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nicky!” She thrashes, panic slicing through her voice. It bleeds into my veins, polluting any sense of logic as the worst possible scenarios run through my head of what I’m going to find when I tear this thing off her.
If there’s a single bruise on her body, somebody’s dying.
I’m distracted when she catches my temple with her elbow, causing my grip to momentarily loosen. She tumbles forward, but I’m able to grab her before her face collides with the metal edge of the ramp.
“Jesus Christ, Daphne. Calm the fuck—” I pause, my body completely locking in place as my mind begins to short circuit.
It’s not what I thought.
It’s worse.
Daph quiets as well, no longer bothering to fight. There’s no point. Not now. She goes practically catatonic, allowing me to maneuver her with ease as I position her into a standing position. I continue to hold her to me, her back plastered to my front, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. My right hand remains exactly where it landed when I caught her—cupping her left boob.
I give it a squeeze just to make sure I’m not imagining things and, no, I’m definitely not.
I have known Daphne Burke since she was six years old. She’s practically lived at my house since she was nine. She has ridden on my bike, chest smushed against my back, more times than I could possibly count. She has spent countless summers parading around my parents’ pool in a bikini—an image that, I’m not proud to say, has been seared into my fucking brain after I caught a glimpse of her before she left for Miami.
Daph’s always been beautiful, but this last year had next-level plans for her. I’m not sure when exactly she went from sweetheart to smokeshow, but I was not prepared. I stood at the kitchen window staring at her just long enough to be considered borderline creepy before I was able to tear myself away.
Yeah, like I said, not my proudest moment. However, after that day I could draw every newly acquired curve of this girl’s body from memory, and one thing’s for sure—I spin her, gripping hold of each side of her hoodie and tugging so hard the zipper breaks apart—those were not there four weeks ago.
I stare at the swell of her tits spilling from her white tank. The ones that were the perfect handful before she left and are now a large C at minimum. I remain unmoving, focused on the rhythmic pattern of her breathing as my ever-building rage threatens to overtake me.
It all clicks into place.
Why her mom planned such a long trip.
Miami… the plastic surgery capital of the world.
“Did you know?” My eyes slide up to find hers welling with tears. “When she planned this trip, did you know this was what it was for?”
Her eyes slip closed, but not before a few tears escape down her cheeks. Without looking at me, she slowly shakes her head from side to side.
A switch gets thrown in my brain, coloring my vision red. As if possessed, I march over to my bike, shoving my helmet on and kicking the engine to life.
“Nicky, don’t!” she calls after me, but I’m already whipping through the crowd, blowing past my parents and J on my way to the parking lot. I’m on the main road in seconds, speeding in the direction of the spa I know the cunt is headed.
She didn’t have that much of a head start, maybe fifteen minutes, and it isn’t long before I see her black Benz up ahead in the right lane. Weaving around the few cars between us, I pull alongside her just as she approaches an off ramp. I swerve into her lane, forcing her to take the exit then pull ahead and slam on my brake. She follows suit, laying on the horn as her bumper stops just short of my rear tire.
I hop off my bike, not even bothering with the kickstand. It falls to the asphalt, forgotten as I storm toward her driver’s side door. Belinda’s eyes widen with shock at the sight of me as she scrambles to ensure the locks are engaged.
Locks. That’s fucking cute.
Stopping beside her window, I plant both hands on the car before slamming my helmet-covered head repeatedly into the glass. It shatters on the third hit.
Belinda screams as I reach inside, unlocking her door and pulling her from the car. The road we’re on sits lower than the highway, concealing us from the flow of traffic above, with no signs of life in either direction.
I slam her up against the side of her G-Wagon, ripping the helmet from my head as I stare down at her with contempt.
“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you?” I seethe.
“You’re crazy! Help!” she wails, only to have her screams cut off when I grip hold of her neck and slam her into the car once more. Belinda winces, whimpering as tears begin to spill from her eyes.
“What kind of mother forces her sixteen-year-old daughter to get breast implants?”
“She wanted them! They were an early birthday present.”
“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” I slam her again, causing her to cry out in pain. “She’s your little girl. You’re supposed to protect her. Take care of her.”
