35. The Song Remains the Same

35

THE SONG REMAINS THE SAME

DAISY

He's watching me again. I've become used to his eyes on me, to the stolen glances he gives me from across the room. So much so that when they're not aimed in my direction, I don't feel alive. It's a craving that needs to be fed all the time.

The faintest brush of his fingers against my skin sends my mind spiraling. Just like it is now, with his hands on mine as he helps me with my sculpture in his classroom. No one notices but us, everyone being absorbed in their own pieces.

"Good work, Miss Burton," he says with his teacher-voice. I swallow when I look up at his side profile through my lashes, seeing the slight curve of his lips.

He leaves me to it, forcefully tearing himself away as he moves on to another student. Once the class ends and it's time for lunch, I meet him in his office. We have to be careful, of course, and I make sure to carry a notebook in my hands, so it looks like I'm meeting him about a homework assignment in case anyone sees me.

I flip the lock of the door, and without a single second of hesitance, I jump up into his arms and kiss him. Slamming my back against the wall, he grinds his cock against my pussy. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close.

"I need you in my bed tonight, Daisy," he groans into my mouth. "Stay with me?"

I hum with satisfaction. "You can't get enough of me, can you? You're obsessed."

He forcefully bites my lip. "That's no fucking secret anymore, is it?"

Chuckling, I shake my head. "Nope. My pussy has magical powers."

"Not just your sweet little pussy." He grinds his cock harder against me for good measure. "It's you , little nymph."

After my confession about what happened with Jerry, when I told him how I got my scar, he seemed to be even more enthralled. He just stared at me in shock as soon as the truth left my mouth. I didn't even bend the story; I just told him the real truth. I knew it would only intrigue him further.

I was right. He was fascinated, in fact.

The truth brought him even closer to me, and I'm one step closer to completely bending him to my will.

We fucked all weekend long, and when it was time to leave, neither of us wanted to let the other go. And we haven't, not really. This moment being the confirmation of that.

"I wish I could come over tonight," I mumble against his lips. "But I'm going to see Led Zeppelin in Greensboro with some friends from school."

He pulls back from me, looking into my eyes while still holding me up. "These friends of yours… Are they more than just friends?"

I'm not thrilled about the company of tonight, because it includes Jace, but there is no way I'm missing out on seeing one of my favorite bands live for the fifth time.

I've had the tickets for a while, and when the guys found out I was going, they kind of made plans for us all to go together.

"Professor." I put a hand over my heart and purse my lips. "Are you jealous?" My tone is teasing, but he doesn't seem to find it funny. He just stares at me, forcing me to answer with his eyes. Sighing, I say, "Don't worry. Yes, they're just friends."

I don't tell him which friends they are because he'll know I have fucked them. But it doesn't matter. That's in the past, and I won't do it again. I can just have a nice time with them despite having fucked them before. I'm casual like that.

He really does seem to be filled with jealousy, though. His eyes have darkened significantly and his lips are a straight line.

I have watched other women enter his house for years, biting my tongue, waiting for my turn. Can't lie―it feels kind of good that our roles are reversed now.

Putting me down, he forcefully turns me around until my cheek is pressed against the wall. My pink chiffon scarf is yanked from my neck and tied around my face instead, the fabric covering my mouth. I let out a stifled moan, liking where this is going. My long jean skirt is pulled up to my waist and my underwear rolled down my hips. He kicks my ankles apart, making my leather boots squeak on the floor.

"You can't make a sound, little nymph. If anyone hears, it's over for us."

I nod my head eagerly, wetness already dripping out of me from the anticipation. Sweat starts to form under my armpits, and I hope I don't ruin my pretty red turtleneck. With the matching jean waistcoat on top of it, I feel hotter than Satan's balls.

"We don't have a lot of time. But I'm not wasting this opportunity to mark your ass."

Oh, fuck yes. I wait for him to fuck me there, but he retracts from behind me instead. I frown confusedly before something hard hits my ass cheeks, making pain shoot through my entire body.

" Hmm-phhh ." My moan is stifled by the scarf, and I squeeze my eyes shut from the impact. I turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of him standing there with a cane in his hand―just like the one he uses when he explains something on the green chalkboard in class.

The vision is so incredibly hot that drool leaks out of my mouth despite it being filled with fabric. He's dressed in a white shirt with the upper buttons opened, exposing his muscular, hairy chest. A brown leather jacket is placed on top, the pointy collar covering his entire shoulders as a pair of blue bellbottom jeans cover his legs, his dick imprint a promise of what's about to happen.

His cheeks hollow as he trails his tongue over his bottom lip, his jawline so sharp I swear it was sculpted by the gods themselves. "I can't help it, Daisy. I need my marks on you. I need everyone to know that you have been claimed and that I'm not a man who shares."

He's marking his territory, and I fucking love it.

I love him .

Another burst of pain shoots through me as the cane lands on my ass once more. The pain is delicious, but the ache between my thighs is torturous. I need his dick inside me, stat .

" Mhph-ph ," I try to beg him by saying his name but fail miserably.

A snicker vibrates against my earlobe as he surrounds me with his tall frame. "You're so cute." He plants a kiss on top of my head. "Just one more time, okay? Then I'll give you what you need."

My ass rubbing against his cock is my only response, and he makes true on his words, hitting me one more time before I hear his belt buckle open. He's inside of me before I can take a proper breath, and he fucks me thoroughly from behind before filling me up with his cum. Our time is limited, which is why he only gives me two orgasms instead of our usual supply, but I'm not complaining.

"Don't you dare clean yourself up," he groans in my ear, rolling my panties back on and smoothing my skirt over my ass. "I want you to feel my cum dripping out of you in the next class."

A knock on the door has me frowning as I put on a new layer of mascara in front of the mirror. Getting up from my chair, I walk to the door and open it, instantly meeting eyes with one of my favorite people in the whole world. "Dad?"

He embraces me as he steps through the doorway, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "Evening, sweetheart."

"Hey." My arms wrap around his waist tightly. Now that I'm on campus at least five days a week, I miss my parents a lot. As a teenager, when they were around me all the time, being their usual lovey-dovey selves, I couldn't wait to be on my own. But now that I'm not with them, I sometimes want to go back to that time.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, pulling back to look up at him.

"Heard you were going to a concert," he answers, holding up a pair of shoes. "Can't get your knife past security. So I wanted to bring you these."

I nearly roll my eyes, but I can't help grinning. Most of the time you wouldn't even know that I'm the daughter of a mafia capo, with the way I was raised.

It's the fact that my birthday gifts often contain weapons that make it obvious. Guns, knives, and in this case, an OTF shoe knife. At least they're stylish brown leather boots that go up to the knee. With just the flick of my foot, a knife shoots out of the sole.

Dad has been overly strict about me always having a weapon with me wherever I go after that night I killed Jerry. I mean, he's always been protective and keen on weapons, but it heightened by a lot after that night.

And he's right―there's a lot of security at the concert venues, so I can't take any weapons with me, and I'd feel safer if I did have one. Especially because Jace hasn't left me alone for more than two days in a row and I have to be inside a car with him. It's not like I'm scared or anything, but you never know with men.

"Be safe, okay?" He squeezes my cheek as he towers over me with his tall height.

"Yes, Dad. Always."

He doesn't linger, leaving within fifteen minutes of arriving. Once he's gone, I finish doing my makeup and change my outfit for something that matches my boots―high-waisted bell bottom jeans and a faded T-shirt with the band on it, which I've cut at the hem to expose my bare stomach, adding a little sexiness.

By the time I walk out to the parking lot, Jace, Mickey and Steve are waiting for me in their car, music blasting loudly from the speakers. They chant and whistle as they see me coming and I happily get into the backseat.

Unlike Jace, who can't accept my rejection, Mickey and Steve have been great. They respect my decision to just be friends, and they are able to let that one night we all fucked be what it was―a meaningless hookup.

Leaning over the front seats, I bump fists with both of them. "What's happenin', my dudes? You two look awesome tonight. Look at you!" Mickey's long blond hair is tied up in a long braid that hangs at his back, and I take it in my hand appreciatively. "This suits you."

"Thanks, doll." He gives me a sly smile as he starts the car and drives off. "You look as bitchin' as ever."

Steve squeezes my cheek, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Zeppelin, baby!"

I give him a loud whooo before I sit down on the backseat and put on my seatbelt. "Hey, Jace," I say in a friendly matter when we lock eyes, giving him a smile. There's no need to make it awkward, right? If he doesn't start with his advances, then it's all good.

"Sup?" He nods his head at me. It's a little curt, but I'm fine with that.

We all talk about our appreciation for the new Led Zeppelin album, Physical Graffiti, before I take a moment to take in the night and hang my head out of the open window, letting my long hair blow in the breeze as the stereo plays the new songs for a little pre-gaming.

Once we make it to the Greensboro Coliseum, the parking lot is crowded with people, all of them already having a good time. People are smoking grass and drinking beer, chanting in excitement for the concert.

When we're parked, the four of us get out into the crowd. We each down a beer and share a joint, and I'm nearly vibrating with energy and elation. We shove a couple of hotdogs from a food truck outside into our mouths because we have the munchies, and before we know it, we're inside in the crowd, waiting for the show to start.

I can never see much with standing tickets, which is why I always make sure to take at least one guy with me so I can sit on his shoulders and enjoy the show. When I'm with Uncle Abe is the only time I take seats.

Before I have to ask, Mickey lowers to the ground and taps his shoulder, inviting to carry me. "Come on, doll."

"Fuckin' A." I clap my hands happily before I take his invite and climb onto him. He's tall enough to see over everyone before us, so it's just a matter of holding me up. Luckily, I don't weigh much, and the other guys have already offered to carry me if Mickey needs a break. I'm all set.

The lights go out right before the show starts, instead replacing them with lasers that circle around the concert hall. And when the lights aim at the stage, they're on Jimmy Page, highlighting him as he plays his Les Paul with a violin bow. They open the show with Rock and Roll , a song from the Led Zeppelin IV album. The crowd, including me, goes insane in response as we all watch in awe, losing our minds. I sing along to the lyrics at the top of my lungs, goosebumps covering my entire body as I let it all carry me into that mental headspace that only music can achieve.

I've always said that I have multiple true loves, the biggest one being Lester Gilbert, the one and only Sculptor of Death.

Then there's art, which is where I can let my true self out, my creativity along with my sanity. And finally, we have music. It may be silly to some people―to love something this much. But I truly believe that falling in love isn't just possible between two people―between soulmates.

Music or something as incredible as art can be just as much of a soulmate to you as another human being. Love is all about how you feel or how it makes you feel.

And to me, that's true love.

Mr. Page hits the guitar with his bow, then points it at different points of the coliseum as the sound travels in each direction. When it's pointed at the crowd where I am high up above the others, I wave my arms like a maniac, screaming so loud that my voice catches in my throat.

The crowd goes even wilder when Robert Plant comes on and starts singing, his open blouse exposing his bare chest and his long, curly hair flowing around him as he moves along to the music. His virtuoso voice hits the notes dexterously, with the drums and keyboards a beautiful backdrop. Music like this can be felt in your entire body, creating a high no other substance can manage.

The theatre detonates in a burst of laser beams and flash powder, all mixing perfectly with the music as the band expertly moves on to the next song on the setlist, Sick Again .

The guys switch with carrying me during the show, until I've sat on each of their shoulders, getting the most optimal, exhilarating view of the concert. By the time they play their final song, I smile, knowing that this is a golden memory I'll never forget, just like all their other concerts I've attended.

The band ends their setlist with Communication Breakdown , and I'm still reeling long after they've left the stage and we're back at Mickey's Pontiac Grand Am.

Steve wraps an arm around my shoulder and starts messing up my hair, making me squeak with laughter. I really have to give it to Mickey and Steve―they're respectful as shit. They treat me like one of the guys now, more like a brother than a girl they want to fuck.

Jace, on the other hand, is watching us with a scowl. I just ignore him as we finish one last joint together before we get inside the car, ready to drive home.

I take a moment to take a breather, resting my head against the headrest of the backseat, looking out of the open window. The cool wind blows over my face like a soft caress, and it feels so nice that my eyes flutter closed and I'm on my way to unconsciousness.

I sit there comfortably, almost asleep until I feel someone touch me, muffled voices in the car mixing with rock music on the radio. I immediately shake out of my weed-induced slumber, my eyes flying open only to find Jace with his face buried in my neck.

"That's not cool, man," Mickey says with an irritated tone, turning down the volume of the music.

Steve looks back over his seat at us, pushing Jace's shoulder with his hand. "Jesus, Jace. Stop that."

I'm suddenly overcome with panic, not understanding what's happening until his hand slips inside my pants and he starts rubbing my clit. "What―" I choke out. "What the fuck…"

"Stop the car," Steve says to Mickey, and I think he says it because he wants to help me.

"I can't, man," Mickey answers, looking through the windows. "The road is crowded. We're locked in. I can't pull over until we find an emergency lane when we get to the highway. All these fucking concertgoers are in the way."

"Jace," I groan, pushing him away with all my might. "Get the fuck off me."

"I don't understand you, Daisy. All night you've been flirting with everyone but me, when I'm the only one that truly wants you. I want to be with you. Why can't you see that?"

"Flirting?" My eyebrows pull together. "I haven't flirted with anyone. I was just having a good time. And even if I did, you only have yourself to blame, because you won't take no for a fucking answer. I'm telling you one last time to get off me. In a friendly way."

He goes for my mouth instead, forcing his tongue inside, despite Steve trying to tear him off me.

Another Jerry situation. Fucking great .

"I would rather sew my own labia together than have sex with you again, Jace. Let alone kiss you or let you talk to me like you have some kind of weird claim on me. We fucked once . Get over it!"

"I want to be with you," he tells me again. The way he looks at me is almost scary. He doesn't even look close to the guy I met at the start of the schoolyear.

"You useless bucket of jizz," I spit. "What is wrong with you? I'm telling you one last time, Jace. If you don't get off me right now, you won't like the consequences."

It doesn't matter what I say. He's not stopping.

Alright, then. His party.

When he kisses me again, I bite his lip so hard that I rip the corner of it open, spitting the blood in his face. Ripping off my seatbelt, I manage to slip my leg out from where he straddles me, then flick my ankle until the knife slides out of my boot.

He falls backward on the leather backseat in shock and I angle my leg until the sharp end of the knife points at his throat.

That'll teach him not to fuck with me. I'm not just some weak, obedient girl that he can overpower.

Mickey and Steve are screaming out in panic, and I follow along with them, my voice overpowering theirs. "Stop the fucking car. Now! Let me the fuck out! Let me out!"

With the threat of me nearly stabbing Jace in the throat, Mickey suddenly seems to be able to find a place to stop the car after all. I'm hunched over on top of Jace, one foot on his stomach, the other on his upper chest.

"You're a weak little boy, Jace. You can't handle rejection, and it's fucking pathetic. I like to fight my own battles, so I don't like to bring up the fact that my dad works for Gianluca Mancini. But in your case, I feel like it's a good reminder not to fuck with a goddamn mafia princess. You fucking fool ." I spit in his face again, and as soon as the car stops, I open the door and jump out.

"Daisy!" Mickey and Steve yell in unison. "You can't go out alone. Let us take you home, please."

I lean inside the car window of the passenger side, grabbing Steve's cheek between my point finger and thumb. "Get out of here and take that fucking asshole with you." I nod my head at Jace in the backseat, where he's pretty much hyperventilating. "I'll be fine. I'll call my parents to come pick me up or something. There's just no way I'm getting back inside this car."

They protest, but I hold up my hand before I turn and walk off. From behind me, I hear Mickey's car eventually drive off and I let out a loud groan.

Fucking hell . What a mess.

I stick to the darkness on the side of the road as I walk a long way back to where I spotted a Shell station. Once I find it, along with a telephone booth, I hesitate to call my dad, then decide to call someone else instead.