Page 30 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares (The Society #1)

Issac

“ F uck yeah, you suck that cock.”

Goddamnit.

I grabbed a pillow and pressed it on my head to muffle the moans coming from the video Ravi was watching.

Was it too much to ask for one peaceful night? All I wanted to do was get some sleep, but Ravi was keeping me up with his porn, again. How many times did he have to jerk off? And he wasn’t quiet about it, or modest in any way. There was no way for me to ignore it.

The motherfucker was three feet away from me, with his dick in his hand, jerking it like he was making his own porn. He did the same thing the night before and the night before that.

This shit started the same day we threw punches. It was day three now, and I’d seen Ravi fuck his hand, multiple Fleshlights, and the two dolls he had set up on either side of my fucking room.

“Hey,” he stopped jerking himself long enough to throw a pillow at me. “You’re missing out. This is good stuff.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I grumbled back and slapped another pillow over my head.

“I am fucking myself.”

I was well aware of that. I had fucking eyes. Although I was wishing I didn’t at this point. Not that tearing my eyes out would do much to block his grunts and groans.

“Goddamn, she’s taking three cocks. You like that, don’t you, you dirty little bitch.”

The pillows were useless. No matter how hard I smashed them against my head, I could still hear everything. A week without coming was nothing. I could do that with my eyes closed. But having to listen to this shit day after day was amping up my frustration.

All day long, my senses hyper-focused on anything that was remotely sexual.

The way a girl breathed, how their hips swayed when they walked, the smell of sweat in the gym.

I couldn’t tell anyone what my mergers and acquisitions class was about, but I could tell them what color bra my professor was wearing.

“I’ve been such a bad girl, punish me.”

Goddamnit. I was really starting to hate porn.

Curling my arm over the pillows on my head, I growled, “Turn that shit down.”

“Did you just say you couldn’t wait to taste Georgia’s sweet pussy?”

No, I fucking didn’t, but then again, he knew that. Every night, Ravi found a reason to drag her name into his loud jerk off sessions. He thought he was smart, but I knew what he was doing. And it wasn’t going to work.

“I bet she’s as sweet as she smells.” Ravi grunted. “Nothing squeezes your cock like a virgin.”

Nope. It was going to work. I was not currently picturing Georgia tied up and begging for mercy.

My hand around her neck while tears of pain and pleasure rolled down her cheeks, and her strangled gasps floated through the air. The taste of her fear and scent of her arousal…

“Fuck.” I closed my eyes and tried to push the image away.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Ravi sang. “You sound a little frustrated.”

My jaw clenched so tight my teeth ground. He was not going to win this round.

The mattress creaked as Ravi kept going, moaning like he was the star in his own porn. I didn’t need to look to know there was a grin on his face. I could feel the smugness bleeding off the fucking prick. This wasn’t about getting off. It was about breaking me.

If he said her name enough or described her in the right way, maybe I would give in. At least that was his hope. But I had more control than that.

“I bet she tastes like fucking cherries,” Ravi grunted, making my fists curl under the sheets.

My nostrils flared with the scent of a memory I wished I could forget.

“Fucking cherries,” he purred, like he was savoring it. “Admit it, Issac, you want to taste her.”

Fuck him. “Don’t fucking say my name when you have your dick in your hand.”

“Oh, I’ve said your name plenty when I’ve had my dick in my hand. But I’m not thinking about you right now.”

Motherfucker.

“I’m thinking about how she’ll feel.”

I was not doing this.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on other things.

Schoolwork, the upcoming party at our frat that I was trying to avoid, and how I was going to beat Ravi to death in his sleep.

I didn’t need to think about Georgia when I had the image of Ravi’s bloody, broken face to concentrate on. That was a satisfying image.

“You want to feel her, too?” Ravi taunted.

The only thing I wanted to feel was his bones cracking.

“You want to feel how tight she is when you slam in behind me?”

Well, it was official, tonight was Ravi’s last night to live. If Georgia thought our last fight was bad, let’s see how loud she screamed at me to stop when I ripped Ravi’s jaw off. Pink lips parted while her big emerald eyes glittered with fear.

“Maybe Kash will want to play with her.”

Cold settled in my bones, making my entire body stiffen.

What the fuck did he just say?

“Oh yeah,” Ravi grunted. “Kash likes them young and innocent.”

I shot up, flinging the pillows on my face across the room. “You better not bring that fucking prick in on this.”

Ravi stopped with his hand still on his dick and looked over at me with a cocky grin. “That got your attention.”

Of course it did. Kash fucking Murphy would already be dead if it weren’t for the Society’s rule to leave the Murphy family alone. I hated that prick more than I hated my father. Knowing that he was walking around campus breathing the same air I was, pissed me off to no end.

Standing up, I walked the few feet over to his bed and lowly growled, “You sure want to bring him into this?”

Ravi’s smirk didn’t falter for a second. “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

Bending over, I brought my face inches from his. “What the fuck did you do, Ravi?”

“Careful, Issac.” His smile widened. “I might start thinking you do want her.”

“This has nothing to do with Georgia.”

His brow arched. “Then you won’t mind if Kash has a go at her.”

Motherfucker. That son of a bitch had no right. Georgia Pyne was mine. If he fucking touched her…

I stopped and stood up. “You told him about her.”

That was the only way someone like Kash would notice a girl like Georgia...

“You’d better hurry,” Ravi sang up at me. “Or you might lose your bride to a Murphy.”

“I will never lose to a Murphy.” That would be a cold day in hell. “I don’t lose… ever.”

“You will this time. Kash is already on the hunt. So, who do you want to lose to, Issac?” Ravi’s hazel eyes locked on mine. “Him or me?”

Son of a bitch.

I snatched Ravi’s Fleshlight off the nightstand and threw across the room.

I barely remembered putting on my boots and storming out the door. And I definitely didn’t remember coming here. One second, I was considering smashing in Ravi’s face, and the next I was standing outside Craven House, staring at the door while the night air cooled my skin.

Georgia was in there, probably asleep in her bed as if nothing were wrong. She thought she was safe, but she wasn’t. This wasn’t her house. It was mine. The Society dropped her in this tiny cabin like a lamb sent to the slaughterhouse.

Bend her.

Break her.

Bind her.

Breed her.

The words looped in my head like a chant I’d been reciting since childhood. I told myself that I only came here to make sure Kash wasn’t hanging around, but that wasn’t true. Something else brought me here.

The image of Georgia whimpering beneath me made my blood burn in places no amount of control could cool. I hated her, and I hated Ravi for making me think about her. Everywhere I went, the scent of vanilla and cherries followed. It had branded itself into my lungs like a second skin.

The front light flickered as I stepped on the porch and the wood creaked under my weight. The house knew I was here, but did she? Would Georgia sense something was wrong when I went inside?

I reached out and twisted the doorknob. Locked.

That was cute. Georgia thought she could keep me out. This door only existed to make her feel safe. It was an illusion hiding how exposed she truly was. All I had to do to unlock the door was click on the app on my phone.

I could’ve gone in through one of the hidden entrances, but there was something about strolling in through the front door like I owned the place. Which I kind of did. I knew this place better than Georgia ever would.

The Society designed it as a trap. There were no creaking hinges or gusts of air that might wake her when the door swung open. It was silent as I stepped inside.

The second I crossed the threshold, her scent hit me. Not the sweet, artificial one from her body wash, but the real one. Skin and breath. Sleep and sweat. That raw, feral scent that belonged to only her. It clung to the air, faint and intimate. The vanilla and cherries were a mask, but this…

I sucked in a deep breath, practically groaning as the scent of Georgia Pyne sank into my lungs. This was the smell I wanted to drown in.

Every step I took felt like a deeper invasion of her privacy. There were signs of her everywhere. The dip in the couch cushion, a mug sitting on the kitchen counter, and her cardigan flung over the chair.

I headed over to the bedroom door and pushed it open.

Georgia was lying in bed with one leg kicked out from under the covers. Her glasses were folded on the nightstand next to her phone. But I was more interested in something else.

The bottom of her nightgown had ridden up to the top of her thigh, exposing a hint of the blue cotton panties she wore underneath. There was nothing desirable about what she was wearing. It was closer to something a grandmother would wear than lingerie, but on her, it was hot as fuck.

I adjusted my cock and watched her chest rise and fall. She was so small I could smother her with one hand. There were so many ways I could ruin her. I wouldn’t even have to touch her to do it. A whisper would work. A single word uttered in the dark. She didn’t have to see me to feel me.

When I took a few steps closer, Georgia’s body jerked. Not much, just a slight twitch. As if her subconscious registered the shift in the air. It was an instinctual reaction. The same response prey had when they sensed a predator nearby.

My cock throbbed as I moved closer, and her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket. Even in her sleep, Georgia knew something wasn’t right. Not why or what, just that danger was close. When she pulled the blankets higher, I damn near came.

That fear—the one that slithered through her bloodstream telling her that the shadows weren’t empty—that fear was mine. And so was she.

I looked at her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow and smirked at the knit in her brow. If Ravi wanted me to start the claiming, so be it.

Bending down, I got close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, and whispered, “You should sleep with the lights on.”

The small, barely audible gasp she let out was all the reaction I needed. The bend her part of the claiming had begun.

I straightened and walked out the door.

Tomorrow, Georgia would wake up and wonder if it was real or if she had imagined it. And every part of her that knew she didn’t imagine it would rot from the inside out. Her paranoia would eat her alive.

That was how I would break Georgia Pyne.