Page 15

thirteen

Sex, Drugs, and Manslaughter (not necessarily in that order)

Noah

" Y ou're getting better at that, Delilah," Tate says from behind me as I throw back another shot of whiskey. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I sink into him, his breath tickling my neck before he presses his lips to my throat.

Right here—in the middle of this bar, for everyone to see.

Granted, we had to leave our small town and find another smaller town where no one knew us so we could get in with our fake IDs, so the people here are strangers. Still, it feels good to feel wanted, and it feels even better to feel wanted in front of other people. I can't quite put my finger on why.

So, when I follow him back to our booth, and he pulls me onto his lap, I let him. Silas sits across from us, placing three beers down on the table and opening ours for us before sliding them over.

"Come here, Noah," Silas says, reaching for me across the table. I take his hand, entwining my fingers with his, and he leans in, caressing my cheek with the other hand before kissing me on the lips. "You just look so pretty tonight," he says. "Like a princess."

He reaches for the strap of my white sundress that keeps slipping from my shoulder and slides it back into place before kissing me again.

"A slutty princess," Tate says. He grinds up into my backside, ensuring I feel him hard against me. "Everyone is looking at you now, Noah. Do you like that?"

Smiling, I pull away from Silas and look around the small, dark space. The female bartenders are staring at me, whispering, the look in their eyes something akin to disgust.

Men stare, too, but not with disgust. There's something else in their eyes. Lust, sure, but that's not all.

I think it's anger. They're angry at me for participating in this.

Or maybe it's more because I'm enjoying it.

"Well, do you?" Tate asks again. "Answer the question, Noah."

Cheeks burning, I look back at him and nod, hiding a smile as I take a sip of my beer.

"Good," he says. "And you do look really pretty. You're the prettiest girl here."

I scoff at what I think has to be a lie.

"What's funny about that?" he asks, his fingers lightly running up the inside of my thigh. Before I can object, he slips them inside my underwear, quickly finding my clit, and I gasp. "Nothing's funny now, is it?"

"No," I pant. "It's not funny."

"Spread your legs more," he says.

I instantly obey, letting my legs fall open and biting back a moan at the heightened sensation that follows .

"I love how sensitive you are," Tate says. He locks his other arm around my waist, holding me tightly in place while rubbing small, slow circles over my clit with two fingers.

Silas leans back in his seat and looks under the table. "Jesus…" he says. His jaw tightens as he takes a swig of his beer.

"Tate…" I whimper quietly. "You have to stop, or I'm…"

"I know what I'm doing to you," he says. "It's okay. Just let it happen."

"Mmm…Tate, I…"

But my squirming in protest is only making what he's doing to me more noticeable.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yeah," I say, wriggling my hips, riding his fingers before I realize it and force myself to stop. "Yeah, it feels really…oh, god, it feels really good."

"Lean back a little," he says, sucking on my neck. "Come on."

I scoot my ass further down his legs and lean into him, crying out before I can stop myself as his fingers swirl around the sensitive spot at this new angle.

I quickly cover my mouth with my own hand. Fuck…I really am going to come right here in front of everyone. It's too late to stop it now.

I grit my teeth, digging my nails into his thigh, and then turn, burying my face in the side of the booth. I barely make a sound when I come, but the orgasm wracks my body all the same. I shiver as the waves of pleasure roll through me, and under the table, Silas rubs my thigh, comforting me until it's over.

Once I can breathe again, I risk opening my eyes. I feel the flush in my cheeks and don't dare look at anyone other than Silas .

"I kind of hate you for that, Tate," I say, biting back a smile.

"Yeah, right," he says, wiping his wet fingers on his jeans before grabbing his beer.

"I do." I smile and take a drink of my own. "Just a little."

He leans forward and, with a finger under my chin, turns my head until our eyes meet. "You're happy, though—I can tell. Maybe the happiest I've ever seen you. And I don't mean in this bar, I mean…this." He inclines his head toward Silas. "You like this."

To be honest, I try to spend as little time as possible thinking about what we've been doing because if I did, I'd be forced to process things I'd rather not deal with.

Like how this isn't normal. Or that while I told myself in the beginning that this was fine because we're all friends, so I'm safe, it doesn't feel like just friends to me anymore.

And what do we do when we go back to school in a couple of weeks? Does this just stop? Does Silas go back to dating cheerleaders, and Tate go back to being a fuckboy?

And if it doesn't stop, then it's still kind of fucked up, and Mia is going to kill me when she finds out. I broke one of our rules. What will people at school think?

This. This is why I don't think about it.

"I closed your tab," one of the bartenders says, setting a receipt down on the table. "Please pay your bill, and then the three of you need to leave."

"Why?" Tate asks. "What did we do?"

"You know why," she says, crossing her arms in front of her before focusing her gaze on me. "And you're disgusting."

"Hey, fuck you," Tate says as she walks away. "Let's go."

He throws some cash down on the table, and I follow him toward the back door.

"Don't listen to her," Silas says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "She's just jealous."

"Yeah, right. Why would she be jealous of me?"

"Because you're so pretty," he says. "And you've got two boyfriends."

Do I? Do I have two boyfriends?

"And your boyfriends are boyfriends," Tate says over his shoulder as we walk through the door and into the alley.

"Hey, how much for a turn with your whore?"

Silas and I look over our shoulders at the same time. A middle-aged man stumbles toward us, clearly belligerent, with a drink still in his hand.

"Fuck off," Silas says.

"Just ignore him," Tate tells us.

But he's still following, closing the space between us, and I'm scared. I cling a little tighter to Silas, and he kisses the top of my head. "It's okay," he whispers.

I'm glad it's dark so he can't see my eyes watering.

"Come on, everything's got a price," he says, close enough now that I can smell the liquor on him. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Then, just before we turn the corner, he grabs my ass, and I scream.

"What the fuck did you just do?" Silas asks, this time turning and getting right up in the shorter man's face. "Did you just fucking touch her?"

"Pfft, what do you care?" the man asks, swaying on unsteady legs as he points to Tate. "You let that guy touch her."

"Hey," Tate says. "Let's go. It's just you and your hand tonight again, you fucking loser. If you can even get it up."

"Why don't you come over here and say that to my face?" the man shouts back to Tate.

"Not when I can smell your breath from all the way over here, stinky. No one's going to fuck you like that."

But Silas stares at the man with clenched fists and his jaw set. "Did he touch you, Noah?" he asks again.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "I just want to leave."

"I did," the man says, and then pours his drink out on Silas's shoes. "What are you gonna do about it?"

I barely see Silas move before Tate's arms circle my waist, pulling me backward as Silas's fist connects with the older man's face. Blood sprays from his mouth as he falls backward onto the concrete, but Silas doesn't stop. It's like I'm stuck in a time warp, watching it all happen in an instant and somehow, at the same time, in impossibly slow motion. He kneels over him, hitting him over and over again—until his face looks like raw meat, and Tate finally pulls him back.

"Stop!" Tate yells. "That's enough. We have to go. We've got to get out of here."

Eventually, Silas nods and lets him pull him to his feet.

"Come on," Tate says, ushering us both toward the vehicle. "I'll drive."

"Should we call someone? Should we do something?"

"No!" Tate snaps. "We're not calling anyone; we're never talking about this again. Do you understand, Noah?"

"Is—is he dead?" I ask .

"No," Tate says, less than reassuringly. "He was still breathing. I saw him."

He helps Silas, who's still silent, his knuckles stained in blood, into the back and points me toward the passenger seat when I try to slide in next to him.

"You need to leave him alone right now, Noah," Tate says.

In the rearview, I see him sitting in the back, impossibly still, with his hands folded together between his legs.

"I'm sorry," I tell Tate when he gets into the car.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything."

"It was my fault, though."

"No, it wasn't. It's not your fault, baby, and I don't want to hear you say that. It was his fault; he was looking for a fight. He's probably spitting out teeth and thanking us for a good time right now."

I laugh a little, wiping tears from under my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, we all have our…things," Tate says.

"Silas, are you—"

"Don't talk to him right now, Noah. Give him a minute to calm down."

"But it's been a minute," I argue.

Tate doesn't reply, his gaze fixed on the road ahead with one hand on my thigh and the other on the steering wheel. I sigh and lean back in my seat, closing my eyes when watching the lights from outside as we speed down the highway become dizzying.

A few minutes later, I feel Silas's hand on my arm, his mouth on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Silas says. "I didn't mean to scare you—I'm fine. I'll never hurt you, Noah. You know that, right?"

I turn back and nod. "I know. I'm not scared. "

"Come here," he says.

I climb into the backseat and into his lap, wrapping my arms and legs around him. And then, he's kissing my neck and grinding against me. His lips find mine, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth, burying a moan as I roll my hips over his hardness.

He pulls his joggers down over his hips, his dick springing free, and pulls my underwear to the side before positioning himself at my opening. "Sit on it, Noah," he says. "Sit all the way down."

I lower my pussy onto his cock, whimpering as it fills me. "Oh, god…Silas…"

"That's it, baby," he says, thrusting up into me. "Such a tight fucking fit."

They're both big, but Silas is thicker. I've gotten used to it over the summer, but at some angles, it still fills me so full that it takes my breath away. This is one of those times.

His eyes find mine in the dark space as I rock my hips, sliding up and down his cock, and he meets me with each thrust, setting the pace as he pushes up into me with his fingers digging hard into my hips. Both of us panting, sweating, with the windows down on a hot summer night. I arch my back a little as I work my pussy over him, and the head of his dick hits just the right spot.

And I'm sure Tate is watching in the rearview mirror. I hike my dress up a little higher, exposing my ass, and fuck him a little harder, losing my pace as my legs begin shaking.

And then his hand closes around my throat. My heart stops; I grab his wrist with both hands, my eyes widening.

"It's okay. Don't stop," he says. "I won't hurt you. I'll let you go when you come all over me. "

I nod, and he squeezes harder, further restricting my airway. Using his powerful forearms for leverage, I ride him again, chasing my orgasm while stars form behind my eyes.

And then I come apart, pulsing around him in one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had. When he feels it, he lets me go, and I somehow manage to scream while gasping for air. I'm still shaking when he flips me over, rolling on top of me, my tits falling out of the top of my dress while he slams his cock into me over and over, stilling with a groan when he comes inside me.

"Well, that's great," Tate says. "You probably got drunk guy's blood all over her and your backseat—you realize that, right?"

"It was worth it," he says, lying on top of me and burying his face in my neck.

When we get back to our building, they sneak me into Silas's apartment, where we shower, and Tate gets rid of our bloody clothes. Then, the three of us crawl into bed together, like we have most nights for the past couple of months.

"Silas?" I whisper once Tate is asleep. "Are you awake?"

"Mmhmm," he says.

"Are you drunk?" I ask.

"No, I'm not drunk. Why?"

"I just…" I pause, almost talking myself out of it before continuing. "I just want to know if you mean the things you say to me."

"What do you mean?" he asks. "Did I say something that upset you?"

"No. I mean like…when you tell me I'm pretty…or that you missed me. Do you mean that? Or do you only mean it like…as a friend?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "Damn. Screaming it in your face didn't work, either, did it? "

"What?"

"I don't mean it as a friend, Noah. We're not just friends. And it has been years since I've thought of you in just a friendly way, okay? Noah, if you knew the things that went on in my head, I…"

"What?"

"My mind isn't always a good place to be. But you're always there. The way I think about you—the things I want for you, for us…some of it would probably scare you, and I don't want to scare you. But I want you…every part of you. So, no. I don't see you as a friend. I see you as mine."

Shit. I'm in love with him. I might be in love with both of them. "There's nothing you could do that would scare me."

"Is that how you see me? As just a friend?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Okay," he says, pulling me closer. "Good."

Tate rolls over, slipping an arm around my waist as I burrow my head just beneath Silas's chin. "What we're doing…it's kind of messed up, isn't it?" I whisper.

"No. Don't talk like that, Noah; it freaks me out."

"I'm sorry, but I just—"

"There's nothing wrong with what we're doing, sweetheart. This is just how we're supposed to be."

"Okay."

"Good night, baby."

"Good night."

I wake in the morning when I hear Silas's mom getting ready for work and wait for her to leave before slipping out of bed. I catch my reflection in the mirror, noticing the bruises on my neck from last night .

I run my fingers over them, admiring them, before snapping myself out of it.

Then I dress in one of Silas's hoodies and shorts, slip on my shoes, and walk back to my apartment. My mom has been working nights lately, so I don't expect to see her up, but she is. She's in the living room with Paul, her new boyfriend.

"Where'd you come from?" she asks as I walk in. "I thought you were asleep in your bedroom. What's all of this?"

I furrow my brow. We don't do this; it must be for his benefit.

"I stayed at Mia's," I lie, pouring myself a cup of coffee. She never makes coffee, either; that's my job. "I always stay at Mia's, and you've never cared before."

"Well, I have news," she says. "We're moving in with Paul! Get dressed because we want to take you to see the house and the school—you're going to love it."

When I open my eyes again, I'm moving through darkness. Either that or my equilibrium is off.

But then, my back hits the bed, and someone's pulling off my shoes.

Oh, shit. Someone is in my apartment, taking off my shoes.

"Help!" I scream, kicking at the figure near my feet and backpedaling toward the headboard. "Get away from me! Leave me alone! Help! "

"Stop!" The man climbs onto the bed, pinning my legs down with his knees before covering my mouth with his hand. "Stop screaming," he says. "You can't scream. You're okay; I'm not going to hurt you."

I still at the sound of the familiar voice, and all the air leaves my lungs.

"You're not going to scream, are you?"

I shake my head, and he exhales in relief, removing his hand from my mouth. "Good. That's good." He lies beside me, caressing my cheek with his fingertips. "Do you have any idea how much I've worried about you? How much fucking sleep I've lost not knowing if you were okay or not?"

"Silas?"

My eyes adjust to the dark enough that I can see the figure in front of me has a full beard and longer hair, but it's him. It's his voice, his fingertips. However he got in earlier, he must have done it again.

"Hey, baby," he whispers. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." I feel stupid for saying it, but it's true.

I feel stupid for that, too.

"You're not mad at me?"

I shake my head. "I'm just scared."

"What are you scared of?"

But wait…if Silas is here, then Tate is here somewhere, too. I freak out and pull myself into a seated position, backing into the headboard as I scan the room.

"Noah…" Silas says, taking my hands in his.

"He's…you're…"

"Noah, he's not here. He's not here, baby. Calm down. "

"You came back to kill me."

"No, I didn't. I could never hurt you; I know better now."

"Tate's going to kill me."

"I don't think so," he says.

"How'd you get in here?"

"I'm going to need you to repeat that," he says, staring deep into my eyes. "I was distracted; I can't stop looking at you. Are you sure you're real, baby? You look like an angel."

"How are you getting into my locked apartment, Silas?"

"Mmm, I went through the back door of the restaurant, took your keys from your locker, and copied them. Six-nineteen-four . Your combination is your birthday."

"Why? What do you want?"

"I just wanted to touch you." I hold my breath as he runs his fingertips up my arm, across my collarbone, and then trails them downward between my cleavage. "I want to know you again. I miss knowing you. It feels wrong not to."

"I'm the same."

"Are you happy?"

It's the same question he asked that night at the carnival. How could I be?

"No," I tell him, "I'm not happy. I miss…home."

"It's not home anymore, Noah. Nothing about it is home."

"Don't you ever miss it? Do you wish it still was?"

"I don't think about things like that, and you shouldn't either. I don't have time for any more regrets—not when I have so many around you."

"What does he want?" I ask. "Because I know he doesn't just want to see me and know me. "

"We just want to play a game, Noah. Like we used to. You help us, and then maybe I can help you, too."

"Help me what?"

"Disappear. Your life here won't last much longer now—you know that, right, baby?"

I nod. "Yeah, I know, but…I don't have anywhere else to go. I kind of like it here; it reminds me of home, you know?"

"I do, but that's just how it is now."

"Because I'm a fugitive."

"Mmhmm," he says, trailing his fingers up my neck again. "But you're a really pretty one."

"I didn't do anything."

"That doesn't really matter now, does it? You need to stop running from us, though. You have nowhere to go—just like you said."

"Don't let him hurt me," I plead. "Silas, please don't let Tate hurt me."

"I don't think that's what he wants."

But he didn't say he wouldn't let him. "Silas…"

He runs his hand over my chest, palming my tit before continuing down my ribcage, then gripping my hip. "I can feel your bones," he says. "Are you eating?"

I shake my head. "I try to, but I can't…because of what you made me do…at the house."

"Yeah, I got…carried away. Sorry about that. You're still the prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"Where were you?"

He pulls my tank top down in the front, exposing my tits. Without answering, he lowers his head, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth and flicking the tip with his tongue while his hand works the button of my jeans.

"Silas, what are you doing?" I ask, my voice a breathless whisper.

"I'm going to fuck you, Noah," he says. He kneels, working my jeans and underwear down over my hips and then tossing them onto the floor. "Because the last time I saw you, I didn't get to sink my dick into your pussy, and I've spent too many nights thinking about it to wait any longer."

He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his hard chest and abs that form that perfect 'v' shape before dipping below his waist. I follow it with my eyes as he lowers his pants over his hips. He pumps his dick in his fist while looking down at my body, and then, with the other hand, he grips the inside of my left thigh and pushes it to the side, spreading my legs further.

"So fucking pretty," he says, running his thumb up and down my slit. "Such a pretty pussy. And so fucking wet already."

Then he takes that wet thumb and presses it to my lips. "Suck."

I open, close my lips around his thumb, and suck, tasting myself on him before he pulls it back through my lips, my mouth making a popping sound. His rock hard dick twitches as it hovers over me, and I reach for it, desperate to touch it, and wrap my hands around the thick shaft. My fingers don't even come close to touching while I pump him in my fist, my pussy throbbing in anticipation. Silas looks down at my body while he watches me jerk his cock, biting his lip before moaning as he drops his chin to his chest .

"Fuck, Noah…" he says. "I hope you're ready for me, baby, because I've been rock hard since I found you passed out on the floor, and if you're not, I'm going to tear you apart." He throws my legs over his shoulders, forcing his way inside me without warning.

"Fuck!" I scream as he stretches me. "Silas!"

"Oh, fuck, I missed you," he groans, sliding out of me slowly before slamming into me again. "Fuck."

I whimper, clutching the comforter in my fists, a mixture of pleasure and pain wracking my body.

"Does it hurt, baby?" he asks over the sound of skin against skin. "I won't go easier on you; I just want to know. Am I hurting your tight little pussy?"

"Yes! Fuck yes, it hurts."

"That's what I thought." Silas rolls his hips into me in quick, powerful bursts. "Such a tight fucking fit, baby."

"Oh, god…" I let my legs go slack, my hips falling open wider while he fucks into me, biting his lower lip while he stares down at my tits, bouncing with each powerful thrust. "Fuck…tear me in half—it feels so good."

Waves of pleasure roll through my body from my core as Silas grabs a fist full of my hair, pulling hard, using it for leverage while he fucks me like a rag doll.

"Like this baby?"

"Oh, god! Don't stop! I'm…ahh!"

I scream, tears leaking from my eyes as my pussy pulses around his cock. Maybe it's still the drugs, maybe it's just the perfect way he uses me, but the orgasm rips through me in a way that's almost violent. I struggle against his hold, digging my heels into the back of his thighs and writhing against him, but it doesn't faze him. He keeps fucking into me with the same brutal force.

"There you go," he says, pulling my head back. "Doesn't that feel good, baby? You're still mine, aren't you?"

"Yes!"

"Tell me you want my cum inside you."

"I want your cum; I want it so bad."

"Fuck!" His thrusts become shorter until, finally, he buries himself deep inside me and fills me with cum. Once he's finished, he releases my hair, and I rub my aching scalp.

He wipes the tears from under my eyes with his thumbs. "You look so pretty like this," he says. "You're always pretty, but you look especially pretty like this. Did you know that?"

"No," I whisper.

I haven't felt pretty in a long time.

"You are, though," he says. "Keep it inside you, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, Noah…there's a part of me that wishes you were a little more helpless," Silas says without answering my question. "I wish you were dependent on me. I wish you needed me to take care of you. But look at you—you don't need me at all."

"What are you talking about? I do need you."

Silas pulls the covers over both of us and then leans in, kissing me slowly, sensually. I run my hand over his beard and then to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper, my tongue twisting with his.

"I like your beard," I tell him as his mouth moves to my neck.

"I love everything about you. "

And then, I feel that familiar ache in my chest and pull away.

"Silas…" I bite my lower lip, and my eyes fill with tears again.

"What's wrong, baby?"

I love you.

That's what I almost say. But it must just be some kind of combination of the sex and the drugs and the fact that he's holding me, and I've really needed someone to hold me for a while because I can't love Silas after what he did.

Not when he's the reason that I'm no one now. Not when he's the reason that I'm slowly starving to death, and he's killed several people in front of me…including my mom.

It has to be just that it feels good to be with someone who knows me. It feels good to hear my own name.

"Will you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?"

"Of course I will."

He wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me into him and kissing the top of my head before running his fingers through my hair.

"You use my last name as your own," he says.

"Yeah." I swallow hard. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. It was kind of risky, though."

"I know. I just like the way it sounds."

But this time, when my eyes close, my heart pounds against my ribcage, and I never actually fall asleep.

I'm still awake when the sun comes up and Silas slips out of bed, but I keep them shut and don't watch him go, wondering what part of the game this was.