Hate Me Like You Do, page 12
A sadistic laugh wants to bubble out of me but I choke it down. They don’t know how determined I am.
Inside I’m nothing but turmoil. I’m made up of a chaotic mixture of a sexless sex drive, the petrified feeling of someone who doesn’t want to be hurt anymore, and guilt from the feeling you’ve ruined a friendship. It’s all churning deep down, low in my gut.
And I’m sick of it.
“How will you get to school?” Landon asks. An obvious question, I’ve asked myself too.
“I’ve got myself to school just fine for years now. Wasn’t really too worried about it. I start work at the pool on Monday too.”
Reed takes a step backwards. Landon blinks at me in confusion. Both of them look repulsed and almost blatantly afraid.
“The pool. The...public pool? Reed spits out that phrase like the word ‘public’ has a taste accompanied with it and that taste is poorness, I’m sure of it.
“Sorry we can’t all live the same spoiled life of luxury the three of you manage.” I roll my eyes, my shoulder meeting his as I stand and attempt to shove past them.
Reed grabs my arm pulling me back until he has me placed firmly between him and the island table. His lips press together as he watches me intensely.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask, tipping my chin up in defiance.
He sighs deeply. “Give up. Don’t give up like this.”
I’m not giving up. How dare he even say it like that? I’m working with what I’ve got. What I’ve got is a mother who would rather get high and steal, no money to my name, and an entire school that hates me. And three shit bag guys who used to be my friends.
That’s it.
I have nothing and I’m still fucking trying.
“Is there another way you would rather I ‘give up’? Stop manhandling me. Stop touching me. Stop. Just stop.” I thrash in his grip, trying to pull away but he holds onto me tightly. I grind my teeth together.
Tenderly, Reed pushes back my pale hair that’s fallen loose from the ponytail atop my head. “That’s better. There’s that fight in you.” He grins down at me. He thinks he’s going to chastise me into staying. Into ‘not giving up’. My life is hell here.
I’ll show him exactly how stubborn I can be. There’s still a fight in me.
I lean up, making it seem as though I’m going to whisper in his ear. He smells good. He feels good. But what I really need is a good grip on his shoulders and leverage. I do just that and it’s just enough leverage that I pull back my leg and hike it up fast and hard until I make contact with his groin.
Reed coughs above me, dropping his hold and doubling over. With a sly smile I pick my newspaper back up, taking a wide step around him.
“Yeah, that fight is still there it looks like,” Landon says, his mouth falling open with a wide smirk as he watches me walk away while his friend groans in pain.
I still got it.
Sixteen
Knox
When I think of my childhood, there is both good and bad there. I have fond memories of my father. Well, maybe not fond. I don’t particularly cherish them. But not all of them are bad.
Life isn’t all black and white. And Ronan Reyes, isn’t all bad.
Just like me.
There was a point in time I loved him and I felt like he loved me. I don’t know when that changed. Was it something that happened in a moment? No, I think it was gradual.
What did my dad see in me that repulsed him so completely? What was it that made him decide he no longer loved me? Was it something I said? A characteristic that I couldn’t hide or change? Or did love not exist within him?
Floorboards creak under foot as I pace the narrow hallway between the bedrooms. Every few seconds I glance at my phone, watching time tick away, waiting on his call. A phone call with my father is like a business meeting. It’s scheduled in advance and filled with boring information that he could have just sent me in a text.
Reed and Landon are downstairs watching some horror movie on the television and Violet is in the bedroom. Hopefully, she’s packing up her belongings as we speak. The sooner she gets out of here the better. The safer it is for her.
My phone vibrates in my hand. The feeling is so startling I jerk to a stop, my heartbeat slamming into my chest.
I answer the call even though every fiber of my being is filled with dread.
“Hello.” The word sounds stiff but it’s better than it sounding fearful. My father gets high off of others’ fear.
Just like I do.
“Knox.”
I wait in silence, letting him lead the conversation. There isn’t anything on my business agenda for my father.
“How is our new guest?” he continues.
“Great.” It’s a vague response as I glance at the bedroom door knowing Violet is just on the other side. My heart begins hammering harder inside my chest. Lying to my father is a dangerous game but I’ll do it if it keeps her safe. I wish I was conniving enough to have some sort of plan in place other than pushing her as far away from here as possible before my father returns. But I’m all violence and rash decisions.
And so far, they’re working.
Landon is better at planning. Maybe if I let him in on the gory details that is my life he could come up with something more sophisticated.
But fuck if I’ll let him crawl deeper into the dangerous mess that is my father’s lair. I’d be on the goddamn debate team and captain–leader–king of the fucking chess club.
“Is she acting…” he pauses, “anything like her mother?”
“Like her mother?” I repeat.
He clears his throat. My father isn’t one to lose his words or not know what to say.
“For lack of better terms, does she act like trash?”
I lower my voice so that I know no one else can hear my cutting words.
“Actually, she acts a lot like you.”
I wish I hadn’t seen those telling traits in Violet Demure. I wish I didn’t have that gut feeling that sent me into my adoptive father's office, digging through drawers and opening books at random.
Yet, I did. I dug through his office searching for answers. Something was off from the get go. My father doesn’t do things out of the kindness of his heart. There is no kindness there. So when he sends his driver to pick up a random girl who he welcomes to stay in our home, I know something’s fucked up.
And her haunting emerald eyes, they’re his eyes.
Reyes eyes.
The answer was there all along under stacks of paperwork tucked away in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet in the back of the room. All the papers were no longer neatly in folders, instead my father had them haphazardly thrown in a heap inside that drawer. It was as if he had just dug through it all himself before he left.
It shouldn’t have come as a shock to me but I still glared at the documents in awe, anger, and confusion. Old school pictures of Violet, her doctor’s records, dental records, school report cards, even a statement with every library fee she had accrued in her life. Then at the bottom of it all, a DNA test confirming Violet Demure was in fact the direct heir of Ronan Reyes.
What’s strangest of all, a woman like Violet’s mother didn’t file for child support from one of the most wealthy men in Kentucky.
Either she didn’t know it–which is laughable–or she was too afraid to tell my father that he had a child at all. Maybe that woman did do one good thing for her daughter in all her life.
It’s too bad, Ronan Reyes knows everything.
And what he doesn't know, he finds out with time.
Even if it takes eighteen years.
I try to push away the bitterness in my voice. Whatever my father wants to do with her, with his daughter, it’s no good. He will turn her into a fucked up monster.
Just like he did me.
“Really?” My father actually sounds intrigued. He would be, considering he has yet to meet his daughter in person.
“Yes,” I hum. “She’s resilient, quite stubborn, and resourceful.” She’s him in such a disturbing way.
In a way that makes me want to hate her.
Even if I never could.
“Well, it sounds like we will be getting along very nicely then.”
Not if I have anything to fucking do with it. You won't be seeing her. Ever.
“I have to check in on Mrs. Demure’s pending trial this evening, it keeps getting extended which is concerning, but I’m excited to be coming home tomorrow evening. I’ve missed my home. My son,” my father continues dryly.
Two things slam through my mind: my father’s taken a suspicious interest in Violet’s mother’s concerning trial, and...
“Tomorrow evening?” Again, there’s a hammering in my heart, a throbbing inside my head. I’m seeing red.
Red like the color of blood. Dark crimson dripping from the knife that I used during a failed stabbing attempt. In the end I had used my hands. Choked the air right out of him.
I wished it had been me.
It had been so close to being the other way around. As fate would have it though I was the twin that was adopted by the man who used murder to solve his problems. I was the twin who betrayed our bond when I stared down at my own face, my brother’s face, his eyes open and unblinking.
My hands bled from the deep lines my brother had drawn in my skin with his fingernails as I had refused him oxygen. A sin I committed now scarred against my body forever. The tattoos along my wrist would be forever scarred by him. I was still often reminded of my crime when I glimpse white scars here and there.
“I adopted you, Knox. If I wanted two fuck ups, I would have bought two. I don’t want to hear about that boy threatening to take your place again. Take care of the problem, or I’ll take care of both of you.” Those were the words that sent me into motion. I knew my father was a killer and if I had to choose between my brother and myself, well, clearly, I’m choosing myself.
And that’s exactly what I did.
I’m not a noble man. I wouldn't particularly consider myself loyal or even trustworthy. I’m a survivor. I’ll cheat, steal, and kill to preserve my own life.
There was a point in time I enjoyed Dee’s presence, like she was the innocence I was somehow missing in my life. Then it changed. What did I see that drew me to her? What was it that made me want to take care of her, protect her?
To want her.
“I’ll be home tomorrow evening and I hope you and Violet will have a nice sit down dinner with me. Now, I must get off the phone, I’m getting on the jet. Talk to you later, son.”
Then there was nothing. Just the phone held to my ear, the distant sound of a ring tone, and the undeniable panic that sent me bolting down the stairs.
Seventeen
Reed
The favor Knox asks of me isn’t hard to do. I’ve done it several times over the summer anyway. “Do what you need to do, but make Violett miserable enough to want to leave. Tonight!” Knox had looked distant, his eyes never making contact with mine. Honestly, I wasn’t about to argue. It’s been a minute since I’ve hooked up with anyone.
My hands struggle to find the doorknob behind me. Everything I touch is smooth wood until finally I find the cool brass handle.
Black hair is tangling in my other hand as I guide the girl’s mouth to mine. I didn’t get her name, though I should know it, I recognize her from fourth period. She’s surprisingly tall, dark hair in curls that fall down over her shoulders, and beautiful bronze skin. Sunkissed.
My first thought when I saw her walking home was how she was utterly different from Dee. In every single way. I just want anything that could take me away from the tempting thoughts of her porcelain skin and icy blonde hair. Every time I see someone with green eyes, I have the thought that no one’s are as deep as Dee’s.
So this stranger with her dark brown eyes, the same muddy color as dirt, footballs, fucking dog shit, they’re perfect.
Completely fucking perfect.
Our weight combines against the door, flinging it open with a bang as we stumble in together. Her long limbs are wrapping around me to keep her upright. I ignore the small gasp that comes from my roommate.
I love that fucking sound. My cock’s hard the moment I hear it.
Greedily, my fingers find the hem of her shirt. The fleeting thought that it’s a delicate lace passes through my mind when I’m jerking it up over her head.
Each step back to my bed is filling with the sensation of her soft touch as the pads of her fingers skim underneath my shirt. She feels every muscle hidden beneath the fabric. It isn’t a hesitant touch.
Not like Dee’s.
I stop our kiss long enough for me to pull my white shirt over my head with my one free hand. Our naked skin touching as we collide back together in a hot messy kiss. Her hand wanders down over my jeans as we stumble farther into the room. She smiles against my lips, knowingly.
Not yet though. I’m not ready for that yet.
I’ve got to make Dee squirm.
Like a fire has been lit within me, I lift her. Her legs wrapping around my waist as she giggles against me. The hard press of my length against her core causing her breath to hitch in an uneven pattern.
Our kisses are hot, unending, while I carry her to my bed. Gingerly, I set her down on the covers letting my gaze roam over her near nakedness.
I glance at Dee too.
Her eyes are two blazing green darts that look out at me from the small hole of blankets in the nest she has herself wrapped in. God, those eyes. So fucking gorgeous.
Her tits are perfect too. Just enough to fill my hands if I ever touched her the way I want.
The way she wants.
Fuck.
I groan at the thought, the persistent thought of what it would be like if this was her instead of some chick with no name. I lean down into the girl trying to come back to this moment, not some fantasy that constantly fucks with my head.
I lean down into her, kissing every dip in her long neck. My arms stretch out behind her, knocking my football helmet that I had tossed on my there earlier from the bed.
I feel her gaze burning up my flesh with every rock of my body against the girls. Dee’s attention spirals demanding energy all through me and I fucking love when she watches me like this. She can lie all she wants but I know she thinks about me the way I think about her.
Lying the girl back, I prop myself over her smooth body. Hovering while she arches underneath me. She’s eager and ready, peeling her jeans down like it’s a race she’s about to win. I want to take in all the features that I find attractive about her but I catch myself looking back up to Dee.
She’s still staring.
That’s a good thing. I tell myself as I give her my best lazy smile.
The girl’s features disappear from my view as I kneel on the floor next to the bed. She arches into my fingers as I run them over her lace panties, drawing lines on her skin until I stop to circle her clit from over the fabric.
She’s dancing against my hand, moaning. I don’t think she notices that we have an audience. An audience whose face is turning red, whose hands are stubbornly holding onto her comforter instead of roaming over her body in the way that I’ve witnessed before when she didn’t know I was watching.
My cock throbs at the thought.
My lips press against the girl’s inner thigh, a slow smirk spreading as she lets out a long moan. She’s loud. I like it.
Because I know Dee hates it.
Sliding her panties off, I lean back over her letting my tongue swipe slowly along her wet folds, I flick the tip of it over her hot spot. Then begin lapping my tongue over her again and again until another moan escapes her. I’ve got her lying just the perfect direction that I can keep my eyes locked on Dee if I want to.
And I do.
Her full lips are parted and I’d give my last breath to hear the rasping sounds that she’s hiding away beneath those blankets. Her gaze flicks from my eyes and then lower to where I slide my tongue out fully for her, just for her to see.
But the woman on the actual receiving end also seems to like it.
The girl beneath me makes a scene like she is embarrassed by the outburst of noise, her hands fluttering up to cover her mouth while she holds in the pleasurable noises that continue to slip out. She acts like my every move is the best torture she has ever been lucky enough to receive. It likely is. I’ve had plenty of practice.
Each of my fingers curl, digging into her ass, her legs propped up over my shoulders as the grand finale of her wildly loud orgasm sweeps through her.
I sit her up, pulling her close to me. I’m ready. If I don’t fuck something soon I’m going to lose my control and slide beneath Dee’s blankets and finally put those fantasies to bed.
The somewhat coppery taste of girl still lingers on my lips as I press them against her. I lower myself over her once more.
Her hands hold my hips as if she could pull me inside of her in one sweeping movement. Her breathing is heavy between each kiss I trail over her neck only stopping to sink my teeth in a gentle bite against her tendon.
And still I glance over at the hidden audience peering out at me.
A begging whimper lights the air between our damp bodies. Her hands tracing the muscles, dips, and plains of my chest. She finds the soft cloth of my boxers sticking out over my jeans. A finger runs a teasing line just underneath them.
I loosen the button on my jeans letting her shove them down my hips until they tangle at my ankles and my erection springs forward between us. I growl in approval as her grasp runs up and down the silky skin of my hard length.
This girl kisses me hard as she teases my cock along the slick moisture of her opening. While she plays, I pull a condom from my back pocket and in half a second, I’m sliding it down my cock. The moment it’s on, she drops her hand, lifting against me as I slide in. My fingers tease at the peaks over her breasts still hidden beneath her black lace bra.
