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3
Lucas
Stopping my car outside her house, I let out a deep breath.
“What the fuck are you doing, Lucas?” I ask myself for maybe the hundredth time. I’m so sick of this shit and I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be here. It’s time for this game to come to an end. But it can’t. Almost, but not yet. I have to see it to the end. For her, for my Alexis. To make sure this darkness doesn’t touch her and destroy everything we’d built.
But maybe that’s a lie as well. Even though I don’t want to be here, there’s a part of me, the long-buried piece of me, that swirls with a darkness that demands that I do this. For years I’d thought I was home free, that Alexis had banished this darkness in me, obliterated it with her light. Then it came creeping back like a thief in the night, stealing away any and all peace I had managed to scrape together.
And it was all her fault. She was the cause it came back. If she hadn’t been at that party trying to take what didn’t belong to her, I wouldn’t be here. It was her fault, so it was just fair that she was the one who had to pay.
With anger in my eyes and darkness in my soul, I slam my door, and a quick few strides take me to her door.
She’s waiting for me as I knew she would have been, opening the door with a triumphant smile on her deceiving mouth, victory shining from eyes that couldn’t hide the selfish heart she was born with. The sight of her curdles my gut. She thinks she’s won, but little does she know—she won’t ever win. What I give her, what I let her see, isn’t me. Not the real me. I use her so that I can let go of this darkness that festers inside of me. So that I can breathe without this heaviness constricting my lungs. So that I can go home and be who I want to be, who I was meant to be.
“You came.” Her voice is soft and sultry—meant to seduce, and I shiver when I remember a voice so long ago using that same tone.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarl as I push past her into the house. The soft snick of the front door closing might as well be the slamming of a jail door shutting the outside world away. In that moment, I become Luke, and I embrace everything he is. I take a moment to take in the room. The lighting is low, and fragranced candles are scattered all around. Soft, slow music is coming from somewhere. I don’t know the music and I don’t care to know.
All I know is that it doesn’t look like home. It doesn’t smell like home.
She should know better than to create this mood. This isn’t why I’m here.
“I missed you,” she says, trailing her hand from my back, over my hip to my stomach as she rounds me. Her touch sends tiny shards of ice dancing up my spine, and I grab her wrist, halting it before it can come to a rest on my hip. Finally, my cock jerks when her eyes widen at the force of my grip.
“I didn’t say you could touch me. Now go turn off that shit.” My chin jerks in the general direction of the music, and her face falls. “And while you’re at it, put out all the candles. You know I didn’t come here for whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
“I thought—”
Sneering, I cut her off. “I don’t give a fuck what you thought. Me staying for the night doesn’t mean shit. Now go do what I told you.”
She sighs, and I watch impassively as she goes to do my bidding. Staying the night has given her hope that this means more than it is, and I revel in her disappointment.
My coiled muscles relax when she turns the lights on, banishing every dark corner. That’s good. I don’t want the darkness to hide anything. It would hide every expression she doesn’t want me to see, and I need to see everything. Only then will I be able to breathe again.
“I made us grilled red snapper,” she says, standing in front of me again. She wants to touch me but knows she can’t until I give her permission.
“I’m not hungry.” I brush off her lie. She can’t cook for shit, so I know it’s a dish she got from the restaurant where she’s a hostess. She’ll do anything to try to impress me.
“Straight to the good part then.” A small smile curls around her lips as she unties the belt around her waist and slowly eases the lacy robe off her shoulders, finally letting it drop forgotten to the ground. My eyes travel down her body, taking in what she’s wearing. It’s so sheer she might not as well have bothered. It leaves nothing to the imagination, and if I cared for her, I might have thought it sexy. It leaves me cold.
“Do you like what you see, baby?” she says, her voice sultry while doing a slow twirl, trying to tempt me.
I don’t answer her. I can’t give a fuck what she thinks of my response.
Pulling her bra down, I take her already hard nipples between my fingers and squeeze, watching her face intently as pleasure slackens her mouth, and her eyes grow half-lidded. I can’t have that, so I squeeze harder, and pleasure morphs into discomfort. Keeping the pressure on her nipples, I twist, blood rushing down to my cock when her discomfort turns into a grimace of pain. Her lips part, but one look at my face shuts her up.
“You’ll do anything I want you to do, won’t you?”
“Yes,” she whines. Letting go of her nipples, I tangle my hand in her hair, grabbing a fistful and applying pressure. Her back arches and she drops down onto her knees.
“You know what to do,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, and she reaches out with eager, grasping fingers, unbuttoning my pants and pulling the zip down.
My cock aches when she frees it from its confines, and she wastes no time licking the tip. The moment her lips wrap around me, I lock my knees, not even allowing a twitch of my body. It feels so fucking good, but those deceiving eyes of hers are staring up at me, and any signs of pleasure are for me, never her.
Twisting my other hand in her hair, I shove her down the length of me until her lips touch my base. Her shoulders heave with her gags, but like the good little girl she is, she offers no resistance. Her hands stay on her thighs, knowing that nothing good will come of it if she touches me. Gripping her hair even tighter, I pull her back, allowing her to take a shuddering breath before shoving her down again. “Swallow,” I grind out, annoyed that I have to tell her. She should know what to do by now.
I bite back my groan when she does, her throat muscles massaging the head of my cock. I grind against her face for a moment before once again pulling her back. Her eyes are glassy, tears running down her cheeks from the lack of oxygen, and spit pooling at the corners of her mouth.
