Page 29

Julian

My fingers push through the resistance of her tangled hair, every knot fighting against me when I run through the strands at her scalp.

The shower doesn’t make the best place for a blowjob because the flow of water causes too much friction, but she makes it work. I apply pressure to the back of her head, and she follows my lead, sinking my cock deep into the back of her throat.

When she inevitably gags on it, I allow her to pull back for air and watch with intrigue as she quickly recovers. She’s become so fucking good at taking me like this. There’s no fight, no malice, no brattiness. Just a woman on a mission to please her man.

At least, that’s how I like to imagine it.

I squirt another dollop of conditioner into the palm of my hand before fisting my cock. Starting from the beginning of my fantasy—the one I conjure every time I’m in the shower—I close my eyes and concentrate.

She kneels at my feet on the ceramic floor of the tub, staring up at me with those hypnotic pools of caramel while I stroke my cock, working it up for her.

Her hands come up to grip each of my thighs, and when she leans forward, I almost feed my dick into her mouth until I realize she has something else in mind. She dips her head lower than expected and sticks her tongue out to lick my balls.

Holy. Fuck .

My head slams against the shower wall when the sensation makes me jump, but she just fucking giggles at me.

I’ve never had anyone do that before—not that anyone’s doing it now, either—but it’s where my imagination goes.

For a while, she just runs her tongue along the sack like she’s familiarizing herself with the territory.

Normally, I’d hate it if a chick switched maneuvers in the middle of something I was really enjoying. But just when I’m reaching the precipice of my orgasm, she pulls my sack into her mouth and starts sucking on one of my balls, massaging it with her swirling tongue. I lose it then, right on the spot.

I don’t want to open my eyes yet…because there’s nothing worth seeing. She’s not really here, and she didn’t just suck my soul out through my balls. She’ll probably never give me the chance to find out if it’s something she would actually do.

Skylar ensured that; both inside and outside of Eden.

The only consolation is knowing I’ll still get to see her at the tattoo studio. I have an appointment today, in fact. That’s why I’m getting my jerk-off session in early before I have to fucking look at her all day.

It’s been torture. Not enough for me to consider switching what day I schedule my appointments for, but enough that I leave feeling more pain than the sting on my back.

Making a pitstop at Café Noir on my way to the studio, I grab some coffee and pastries for Jason, Scarlett, and myself. Gifting treats has been one of my only successful forms of peacemaking with her—aside from sharing our smoke breaks.

She’s not at the desk when I arrive, so I pop a squat on the couch until someone comes to get me. It’s unusual for her to be anywhere else but the lobby, so my first thought is that she must be off today. I have no idea what’s going on in her life anymore. I barely cross her path on campus, and she stopped coming to Eden’s Deliverance altogether .

Skylar also doesn’t get any check-ins from her—not since he caught her with Dario, three weeks ago. I really thought we had proven our point when we stole her on New Year’s, but the guy is dramatically persistent.

Now that he knows where she lives, we have a real problem.

He didn’t show his broken face for the following two weeks while he nursed his bruised ego, but I know for sure he made a grand reappearance at Eden last weekend. I guess Sky made a pretty convincing argument this time, because Dario finally started a new hunt.

You can imagine my surprise when Scarlett finally emerges from the back of the studio, strutting right past the lobby and out the front door, with Dario fucking Basile following at her heel like a puppy dog.

Neither of them see me, so I have just enough time to send a quick text before stepping outside.

The force of me barreling through the door startles Scarlett so much that she screams, turning to me with her hand pressed to her chest. “Jesus! Julian,” she pants, crouching down with a laugh as she gathers her breath. “You scared the shit out of me. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s no problem,” I assure her, but my eyes are locked on Dario’s. “I brought your favorite from the coffee shop. It’s inside.”

She audibly sighs in relief, clapping her hands together. “Oh my god, you’re the best. I really fucking need it. I’ll be right back!” she squeals before rushing through the door.

Dario and I don’t say a word—there isn’t enough time to say what either one of us really wants to—but his mouth curls into a little smirk. This slimy fuck. Can’t take her home from the bar without getting beaten half-to-death, so he comes to her work.

We aren’t the same; I didn’t follow her here. I came looking for work before I even realized she was apprenticing, so it’s only been a bonus.

Looking down at his arm, I see the familiar sheen of ointment spread across the skin of his forearm. Some of the stencil remains unfinished, and it looks like the tattoo is supposed to be a crown intersected with the blade of a sword. The lines don’t look as clean as you’d expect for the standards of the guys at this studio, but that’s when it clicks for me—she’s the one tattooing him. He fucking weaseled his way in by offering his skin up for practice.

Get in line, fuckface.

Scarlett comes back outside with the coffee cup pressed to her lips, already draining the contents of it. Setting it down, she takes a seat on the bench and pulls her cigarettes from her jacket pocket before tossing me the lighter—like she always does.

I couldn’t stop watching Dario even if I wanted to. I don’t trust him for even a second to risk taking my eyes off him. Pulling my own cigarettes out, I light one before tossing the lighter back in Scarlett's general direction.

“Oh, sorry. Julian, this is Dario.” I know who he is, but why do you? “My boyfriend,” she explains, gesturing towards him with her lit cigarette.

That bit of information gets my attention. I instantly whip my head to look at her, but she gives me a sweet smile. It’s the kind of smile I only get from her when we’re at the studio—the same one I imagined this morning in the shower when she was licking my fucking balls.

“Boyfriend?” I ask, not really giving a shit whether I sound as blindsided as I feel.

She squints briefly at me before turning to Dario. “Hey, do you mind if we talk alone for a minute? I’ll be right inside.”

“Of course, bellezza .” He strides up to her on the bench and kisses her cheek before opening the front door. “Nice to meet you, Julian. Hope to see you soon,” he says with another one of those slimy smirks, but I don’t think Scarlett notices .

When I look at her again, she’s already prepared to stop me in my tracks. “Red—”

“Don’t. Don’t, Julian. Just…don’t.” She points a finger at me and rises to her feet, stomping over to where I stand a few feet away. “I don’t want to hear one fucking word. Do you understand me? Skylar did enough damage. Do you wanna end up on my shit list too?”

I missed her so much—that spice, that fire.

I’m already on her shit list in one way or another, whether she realizes it or not. But I love that she knows it’s something she has the power to hold over me. It means she knows how important this little relationship is to me, no matter how small. Does that mean she feels the same?

“I know it’s not any of my business, but—”

“No!” She surges forward and shoves my chest. “I said no. You’re right, it’s not your fucking business, so shut the fuck up. I’m happy. I don’t give a shit what you and Skylar have to say about it. You two need to grow the fuck up and leave me alone.” She takes a step back and tosses her cigarette at my shoe, not even bothering to finish it before she storms into the studio.

I’ll have to remember to give Jason an awesome tip next time, because I need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. Jumping into the mustang, I start the engine and dial Skylar’s contact info as soon as the smart screen lights up.

“Sky,” I say, rushing to cut him off before he can speak. “We have a mega fucking problem.”

“Yeah, you said. I got your text. What’s up?” He clearly doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation yet, because he’s way too calm.

“It’s Red. She’s with Dario.”

“Where, at the shop?” he asks. He knew I had an appointment today, so it makes sense for him to make that conclusion.

“Yeah, but also like…she’s with Dario. She said they’re dating.” I put the car in gear and peel out of the parking lot, heading straight for Scarlett’s apartment .

I need to find out whatever I can about this relationship—and I know just where to look.

“That’s impossible. He was just at the club last night and she wasn’t with him. Last week, too,” he scoffs, like I hadn’t thought the same thing myself.

“Right, because no douchebag has ever cheated on his girlfriend before. I’m telling you, it’s true. She wouldn’t even let me say anything about it, she just ranted about you and how we both need to leave her alone.”

Traffic isn’t too busy on Sundays, so I’m able to make it to her place in a matter of minutes. Switching Skylar’s call to my Bluetooth earbuds, I sprint to the back of the house where her balcony is.

You’d think she would have gotten rid of the trellis or at least made it unclimbable, but I think the fact it’s still here is a testament to just how much she enjoyed our little hunt after the Halloween party.

She would have let us do it again.

The gaps in the lattice are more than large enough for my boots to slide through, so I climb the structure quickly, vault over the railing of her balcony, and go inside her room.

The diary isn’t where I remember it being last time, but its new hiding place isn’t any more creative than the first one. Lo and behold, there it is—beneath the corner of the mattress. Fanning the pages open, I start from last weekend’s entry and move forward. Any bit of information is helpful here.

How long has she been seeing him? Has he made any more moves to drug her? What all has he told her about himself—what kind of lies can a man like him spin? Why is he playing the long game with her?

Diary,

I never thought it would happen, but I think I’ve finally transcended into true happiness. The first two years felt impossible, but I finally feel like I’ve figured out how to juggle my classes with the things that are important to me…so nothing feels too overwhelming.

I’ve been spending more time with my dad now that I’ve tossed Eden in the trash (WHERE IT BELONGS)...and even though Penelope still goes, we’ve been focusing on spending more quality time together too—

“Did you find anything?”

Fuck, I forgot he was still here. “Shut up, I’m trying to read,” I snap, eyes panning the page to find the spot where I left off in her entry.

I don’t regret giving Dario a chance, either. Getting to spend my free time with him has genuinely made my life better. I don’t feel lonely anymore.

If I feel like texting him all day, he knows just how to keep up the conversation so I never feel disconnected. If I want him to come over and watch horror movies with me, he’s here within the hour, carrying popcorn and snacks. If I want to test my boundaries during sex, he’s there to listen and help me discover all the things I went to Eden hoping to find.

Maybe Eden’s role in my life was to make the connection for me to find him. If you believe in fate and all that…maybe I wasn’t meant to go to Eden to discover myself, but to discover him instead. My Pearl Prince.

I don’t mean to sound like one of those sappy fucking schoolgirls with a man crush, but Dario has been here to pick up my broken pieces…every time. When Casanova fucked up my first visit, Dario was there. When Broody stalked me to the dance floor like some creeper, Dario was there. When I was trying to glue myself together after New Year’s Eve…Dario came to me.

Not that I fucking approve of how he did it, but we talked about it, and I’ve put it aside. Whether I should have or not, I don’t know…but I do know I’m happier for having done it.

He’s the perfect gentleman when he needs to be, and a fucking demon when he wants to be. Which…I’m more than happy to accept. The way he folded me up la—

Fuckin’ A, I don’t want to read this shit. I flip to her most recent entry.

Diary,

I had the dream again…that's the third time this week. It always starts off in the middle of the night when the boys took me away from Dario. I go through the motions like I’m pressing play on the memory. They take me…they fight…I get on my knees for Broody…I bite him…and then they punish me.

Except…the punishment isn’t a punishment, because it was the hottest thing I’ve ever been a part of. Hotter than any porno I’ve ever watched. And I actually got to BE in it.

Casanova makes me take off my dress, get on Broody’s lap…then I watch him suck Broody’s cock better than I ever could. He sucks it like a fucking popsicle while staring me in the eyes, pleased with himself over the shock on my face. But I loved every minute of it, and I’d give anything to see it again.

Dario is great, he really is. But even on his best day…even when he’s full of determination to be the most indecorous partner he can be for me…he’ll never be them. I don’t want him to be, either.

They were special…one of a kind. And for a time, they were mine. I remember thinking once that they couldn’t be considered mine, because the club wasn’t exclusive…so everybody was everybody’s. But then Penelope does this thing where she talks about them, and even to this day, I get defensive.

I can’t claim them from her if she wants to pursue them…because I have Dario. It doesn’t make much sense for me to be protective over two people I haven’t seen in almost three months. And it doesn’t make sense fo r me to act territorial over them when I have an actual boyfriend now.

Sometimes it’s easier to live in my dreams. There’s no confusion there…just me and them. Broody hasn’t texted me or climbed my balcony…they haven’t sought me out like Dario did, so it’s clear they got over me anyway.

I can handle that, I think. As long as it’s not with Penelope. I love her with all my heart, but she still talks about them like they’re fucking meat skewers on sample for her to grab. I still haven’t told her anything, so it’s hard to convince her to stay away from them when I’m not willing to admit exactly why I want her to. She loves Dario, and she'd berate me to hell if she knew I was still having these thoughts about them.

Oh well. Off I go to sleep…at the very least, I can have them there.

So, she misses us.

That’s good to hear, I guess. Except she isn’t fucking doing anything about it and is playing content by staying with this creepy fuck, despite him literally stalking her. Not like it’s anything Casanova and Broody haven’t done…but it’s just me and Skylar. We already know where she lives by family association.

I can’t get my mind off one thing, though. I search the pages until I find exactly what I’m looking for—an entry completely dedicated to this dream she keeps having about us on New Year’s.

I want to know what it was like for her. We never got to find out exactly how she felt or whether she liked it or not. She just ran from the room, and we never saw her again, aside from the few days after…but we were Skylar and Julian then.

Diary,

Fuck my head. Fuck my life. Fuck Casanova and Broody. They’ve broken my brain to the point of absolute demolishment. I haven’t thought about them in a whole month. I finally started moving on and forgetting about that stupid club, those stupid men, and all the bullshit they put me through.

But now…one month later, I had a dream about the whole thing. Like, the most vivid dream I’ve ever had…and it’s super fucking inconvenient.

I barely remember anything about that night before they took me into the master bedroom, so the dream started from the point they stole me from The Prince. I was sitting on his lap when the door burst open…and I didn’t even get to see who grabbed me. I just know I was dragged off the bed and thrown over someone’s shoulder, and every time I tried to yell, they just spanked my ass. I think those fucking spanks made me even wetter than I was with The Prince right before. I think it had to have been Casanova, because he’s the only one of them who’s hit me. And I fucking like it, okay? I fucking love it.

There doesn’t seem to be any point to my morning shower jerk-off—my dick is rock fucking hard. With every word, my own memory of that night floods back to me. She may be ashamed of what happened, but I can honestly say it’s been the best night of my life.

Well, no time like the present, I guess. I sit on the bed and zip down my pants, removing my cock to fist it in one hand while I hold the journal with my other.

Nobody helped me, no matter how much I screamed. They were all either too wrapped up in their own shit, or they just thought it was a game. I guess it was…in the end. Anyway, so they carried me to the master bedroom and tossed me on the bed, but when I tried to yell at them…Casanova slapped me across the face. It’s not the first time he’s done that, but it’s the first time I really saw the full depth of his ferality…and I think that turned me on more than anything that night.

I wanted to see more of it, so I attacked him. I ran right for him, but he caught and trapped me before kissing me with more passion than I’ve ever had someone give me. It was what I’d been looking for all that time when I went to Eden. And there he was…giving me everything I wanted. But I told him a half-truth and said I only showed up because Broody threatened me…being the fuck he is. Then he used those honeyed words…and convinced me to stay because even if they hurt me…I’d like it. And I hate him every day for being right about that.

I agreed to suck Broody off for him to watch, but then I remembered all the shitty things he’d done to me…and I got pissed. I tried to be good, I really did. But when Broody hurt me just for having some fucking experience…I bit him. And I’m the one who got punished for it.

Casanova pulled his knife on me and made me get on Broody’s lap so he could fuck me. But that wasn’t enough for the chaos twins. They wanted to fuck me at the same time. And truth be told, I don’t know if I would have wanted it any other way.

I’m surprised my hand hasn’t started to blister with how furiously I’ve been stripping my cock, using only spit as lubricant.

The next few paragraphs recount what happened when we fucked her; the way Skylar bit into her shoulder as we destroyed her fucking pussy, how hot she got when I sucked his dick to get him nice and wet for her, and how life-changing her orgasm was when I licked her clit while he was fucking her.

It’s the last part of the entry I’ve been wondering about the most.

They used my orgasm to their advantage and tied me up when I was fucked out of my mind. Casanova brought out his knife again and climbed on top of me so I couldn’t move. I didn’t have a fight left in me, anyway. It was always going to happen. So, I didn’t say anything when he told me what he was going to do, I just kept trying to believe that he was right, and I might like it.

And fuck me…because I did .

Casanova cut me, and then the two of them licked the blood from my wound like a bunch of crazy, horned-out vampires fighting over a meal. And I fucking loved it.

At first, I thought it was just the fact that they were kissing. When they did it in the woods after Eden’s Halloween party, there was no denying how much it excited me. But I don’t think that’s all it was. Not only did they kiss each other…but they kissed me. They kissed me with my own blood staining their lips…and suddenly, I became a part of the depravity. I was just as sick in the head as they were.

I let them use and abuse me, and I ate up every goddamn second of it. I sucked Broody’s dick like a fucking pro while Casanova cut my thigh and licked my clit. I didn’t fight. I rode his face until I saw stars. I swallowed Broody’s cum, savoring every drop. I let Casanova come inside me and basked in my afterglow as he stuffed me full of every ounce that dripped out when he pulled away.

I burst like a fucking dam, grunting through the final strokes of my orgasm as I coat the pages of her diary with thick streams of cum. Tossing my head back with an audible groan, I bask in the afterglow until…

“Tell me you didn’t just fucking—” I quickly hang up my earpiece before he can finish.

Oops. I really keep forgetting he’s here.

Then, I ran. I ran because I’m the only one who’s supposed to know about what I do and don’t like. I ran because there’s no way in hell Cunnilingus Casanova gets to tell me what I’ll enjoy or not…even if he turns out to be right. I ran because if that’s the kind of thing that gets me off…I’m afraid of it. I’m afraid of getting lost in something I can’t be in full control of. I’m cold. I’m calculated. I always have a plan. I don’t do well with losing control.

When I think about what those men are…it scares the shit out of me. They’re everything I’m not. They’re chaotic. They’re shameless. They’re dissolute. They’re way more than I can handle right now…maybe ever. I need to forget them and focus on the things in my life that are actually stable and within my power to decide the outcome of. I’ll focus on the apprenticeship. I’ll focus on school. I’ll focus on surviving as I am, because I’m not ready to become somebody new.

She’s a coward. The little slut fucking loved every minute of what we did to her, but she’s going to pussy out because being with us might alter her perfect little life? That’s bullshit. Life is too short. If she thought she enjoyed bringing out the monster in me…let’s see how she likes when I do it to her.

Tucking my dick away, I stand from the bed and correct myself before putting the diary back where I found it—jizzy pages and all.

Let her find it. I want her to know that I know just how much she wants me. If she wanted me to come back so badly, all she had to do was ask. I’ll give my good girl exactly what she needs.

I always do, don’t I?