Breaking You (Blackthorn Elite 2)

Instead, I make myself a Captain and Coke and head back out into the living room, ignoring all the other people in the room. I wish I could shut them all up, block out all the noise. It makes me sick to my stomach. Coming here was a bad idea. I should have just stayed home. Ever since Parker decided to make things serious with Willow, it’s been hard for me to feel like myself. It feels as though I’ve lost my partner in crime, and I guess in a way, I did.

I make it a total of maybe five feet before something creeps up my spine. Call it a sixth sense, or a gut reaction, but I could feel her, feel something off in the air. I know she is here. I turn my head, and my eyes find her immediately. There she stands in the center of the room, surrounded by dozens of people, but she couldn’t stand out anymore if she tried.

For one second, I let myself enjoy the show. Enjoy the way she looks. Delicate, so fucking fragile, she’s like a twig, easily breakable.

She’s dancing in the middle of the room, her body moving to the music like a professional dancer. Her lips are tipped up at the sides, and even though her eyes are closed, I can tell she is happy, her head is tipped back as she becomes one with the music.

Her hips sway, and my eyes are drawn to that region. Squeezing the plastic in my hands a little harder than I should, I can’t help but stare at her perfectly rounded ass. Two perfect globes of flesh. I’m mesmerized by her, caught in her web. The girls I’m used to starve themselves into a size zero until they’re left with no ass and no tits.

Harper is the opposite in every way and the perfect shape. Warm and soft, with gentle curves instead of bony hips. A tiny waist, but with nice heavy breasts, and an ass that is just begging to be grabbed and held on to while I fuck her from behind.

Fuck her? No, you fucking idiot. Keep your cock out of her. Digging deep, I find the anger that I’ve let fester for years. I shove the image before me away and chug down my drink in nothing more than a gulp. I love the heat that coats my insides as the liquor slides down my throat before settling heavy in my stomach. It makes me feel warm all over but doesn’t reach my frigid heart. Nah, that’s impenetrable, coated in a thick layer of ice since the day she left.

Time to ruin someone’s night. Letting the mask of hate slip onto my face, I stomp across the wooden floor, each step heavy, and full of determination.

As I step closer, I realize that there is someone else with her. Valerie, her out of control cousin. A wicked sneer appears on my lips without even trying. Val sees me first, her eyes turning to the size of dinner plates. Her happy demeanor slips off her face instantaneously. That’s right, cower at my feet. She’s never liked me, not when we were kids, and obviously, that hasn’t changed, and I can guarantee that her feelings toward me are not going to get better any time soon. Especially not after tonight.

Valerie nudges Harper’s arm, forcing her to look in my direction, but by the time Harper does, I’m already in front of her.

“I didn’t give you permission to come to this party,” I leer because it’s the most dickish thing that pops into my mind at that second. She cranes her head back and stares up at me for half a second, before puffing up her chest and placing one hand on her hip. If I didn’t hate her so much, I would say the move was kind of cute.

“Good thing I don’t need your permission,” Harper sasses, her words slurring slightly. Whatever she had to drink must have given her some liquid courage.

“Talk to me like that again, and I’ll make sure your mouth is put to better use for the rest of the night,” I threaten, already imagining all the things I could do to her and her mouth.

“I don’t know what the hell your problem with me is, but I am done with it already. Go away!” Harper presses a finger to my chest, and a bolt of energy zings through me and straight to my cock. I guess it’s no longer a threat.

Reaching for her, I wrap my fingers around her slender wrist. She tries to pull away, but my hand resembles an iron shackle. One she won’t be breaking so easily. Her angry expression morphs into fear, and I can see her swallow thickly, her lips pressed together in a tight line.