Chapter 42
CHAPTER FOURTY-TWO
JOULES
54 bobas left until my baby sister dies … (the same day)
It feels so good to tell somebody the truth.
It feels even better to tell Kaycee the truth.
She only laughs so long as it takes me to get her into that bedroom. I set her down to face me, and then I kick the door shut behind us, leaving her bodyguard in the hallway.
“Since when did you start trusting me so much?” I tease, leaning back against the door and enjoying the way her chest expands with each labored inhale. I close my eyes and breathe in, and I swear that there are pheromones on the wind because my heart rate doubles.
I crack my gaze to find Kaycee studying me, digging beneath all the hard layers on top to the truth underneath.
I’ve been lying to my sister for a long time, and I intend to keep lying to her. I don’t care what I have to do to prevent her from finding out the truth, I’ll do it. I’ll look her right in the eyes like I did on the pier the other day, and I will lie my ass off.
Joe, what would you do right now? I’d ask him, on one of those rare nights that we were alone. Lakelynn hated it when we hung out without her, and honestly, Joe and I liked her being with us enough that we never needed to be alone. But when it would happen, I’d ask Joe the questions I couldn’t ask Lake. Things about our parents. About girls. Anything.
“The curse is ours to deal with. Ours. We may not want it, but it belongs to us anyway. We decide what we’re going to do with it. Whether you want to run off and learn scuba diving like Uncle Jack or spend your last year gazing out the window like GG Louise, that’s your decision. If you like Kaycee, and you’ve told Kaycee the truth, let yourself fall for her. Learn to fucking fall, Joules.”
I wet my lips again and push away from the door, walking right up to Kaycee and burying my fingers in her hair. I liked it when it was black. I like it now that it’s blonde. It could be purple and I’d like it just the same. Long and thick, the sort of hair that I can really wrap around a fist, can tighten my fingers in.
Kaycee’s breath releases in a rush, and I pause, waiting to see her reaction.
Swollen, parted lips, huge pupils, fingers clutching my shirt.
“Kiss me, goddamn it,” she growls out, the voice of a demon in a lithe, sexy little body with a voice to match. Husky, rough, angry, wanting. No wonder Kaycee Quinn is famous. How she ever ended up paired with Tam Eyre is another story altogether.
Anyway, I won’t make Kaycee ask again.
I capture her mouth with a punishing sweep of my tongue, drawing the groan that slips out of her throat into me. My other hand shoves her dress up, fingers slipping under her tights and her panties, finding her bare and smooth and wet.
“My, my, Kaycee. Tell me you like me without saying a damn word.” I bite her lower lip, and then I kiss her while I stroke her. I can feel her body trembling in my arms, her grip on my shirt tightening. Each pet down below is followed by a nip or a lick or a kiss up top. On her neck, on her shoulder, the side of her jaw, her plump mouth.
I keep myself restrained to that single hand and my lips. The rest of me is still, waiting. Coiling tighter and tighter.
I work poor Kaycee into a slippery mess, and then I guide her backwards until her thighs are touching the bed. I draw my hand away, and she makes a sound of pure frustration.
“Sit,” I tell her, and then I lift my fingers up to my lips as she reclines in the mountain of pillows.
“Joules Frost,” she whispers, scandalized. “Don’t you dare.”
I slip one and then another into my mouth, sucking them clean. I kick my shoes off, moving over to my bag to draw out a box of condoms. Brand-new. I haven’t been with anyone since I met Kaycee.
“I haven’t been with anyone in more than a year,” Kaycee tells me, but I already knew that. I shut off the lights, and then I go to her on the bed. I hold the square packet gently between my teeth, and then I reach down to the button on my jeans.
I don’t say a word.
I watch the shadow of Kaycee in the dark as she slides a single finger between her spread legs, fingernail grazing the fabric of her black tights. This is a woman who knows what she wants, what she likes. I’m obsessed—especially when she turns over and stretches like a pussycat in heat.
“Fuck me, Joules,” she whispers, and the sound of her voice is so powerful that I have to fist my dick and squeeze the base, a makeshift cock ring to keep it all in. Huh. No wonder her music’s so popular. I’ll have to try to listen to it one of these days.
“My pleasure.” I let out a rough little laugh, opening the condom packet and sliding the lubed latex over the aching head of my dick and down to my balls. I climb up on the bed behind her, only to see that she’s reached a hand back, fingernail tearing open a hole in her tights. Kaycee hooks two fingers on her panties and moves them aside for me, leaving her pussy plump and bare, as juicy and glistening as a fresh piece of fruit.
I take her hips in my hands, using a tight, possessive grip that draws a sound of tender aching from her sweet little pop star throat.
“That’s cute, sweetheart, but I want more than that.” I use the hole in her tights to rip the fabric, rending it right down the middle until it hangs in tatters from her thighs. Her panties—this flimsy, damp piece of pink silk—I just straight rip them. It doesn’t take much effort to snap the threads, so that I can shove it out of my way. When I reach down and take a handful of her hair in a tight fist, she makes a noise that etches itself into my brain. “Last chance: I am going to die in two months.”
“Eat shit, Joules. You are going to fight to live,” Kaycee snaps out, and something about her blatant defiance mixed with her wanton need just does things for me. She shoves her ass back against me, grinding the length of my shaft against her slippery folds, wiggling to get it in the right spot.
“Well, can’t say I didn’t warn ya.” I guide the tip of my cock to the wanting well between her thighs. Teasing, rubbing, probing. I pull a little harder on Kaycee’s hair until her back arches, and another one of those glorious, needy sounds slips past her full lips. I exhale, and then I jerk her hips back, sliding her body around mine. “Shit.” The word rushes out of me, a tender revelation that I didn’t mean to let go of. But holy hell, Kaycee Quinn is so tight, her inner muscles so unyielding even as she’s moaning my name and rocking back against me.
I keep a nice grip on her pelvis and her hair, but I don’t move. She does it for me, shoving her body back until her taut ass slams into my hips. I’m shocked—in a good way. This girl is wild, and I love it. I want more of it, more of her.
With a growl, I tug on her hair, causing her back to arch dramatically, like a painting, even better than one of those stupid posters she sells at her concerts. Legs spread nice and wide, breath labored and staccato. Kaycee ends up on her knees, relaxing with her back against my front.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” I whisper, nipping her ear. She bites her lower lip and then reaches up to drag her own top down, exposing her small, taut breasts. I slide a palm down her chest, over her flat belly, to the plump swell of her clit. My fingers rub the spot just above our joined forms, and Kaycee responds in turn, grinding down into me. She uses her own hands on her breasts, rubbing her palms over her tiny pink nipples, moaning unashamedly.
“Oh, you have no idea,” she breathes out between these rough, husky little gasps. When I get her clit just the way she likes it, her body lets me know. Tight bands of muscle squeeze around me, milking and coaxing and pleading with me to move, to give her friction, to blow my load.
If I have one dying wish, it’s to come inside of this girl, to watch my seed drip down those pretty thighs.
I drop my mouth to the side of Kaycee’s pale throat, tongue tracing over her thrumming pulse, licking up the gentle kiss of salt in her fresh sweat. I release her hair so that I can band an arm around her middle, squeezing her as tight as she’s squeezing me.
“Joules,” Kaycee groans, rubbing and rocking and writhing. “Fuck me.”
“What do you think I’m doing, huh?” I ask with a little scoff, nipping her ear, nipping her neck. I move my hand away from her clit, and she cries out in frustration. With damp fingers, I force her chin to one side so that I can reach her mouth from behind, taking her lower lip in my teeth before I kiss her. Our tongues twine together as she rolls her hips around in these frantic, little circles that make my balls feel taut and achy. “Fucking is about more than jamming my dick into your cunt—though we’ll get there, Miss KQ. Believe me, we will absolutely get there.”
I put my palm in the center of her shoulder blades and push her down to the mattress. She clearly knows what she likes, but I also can’t help but wonder if the guys she’s been with before were a little lacking. Any man can put his cock in a pussy, but can he make the woman he’s with scream his name? Can he make her come? Can make her realize that every square inch of her is untapped pleasure just waiting for the right touch?
Doubtful.
I slip my shaft out of Kaycee’s heat, and she digs angry fingernails into the blankets underneath us. I give her ass a little slap to see if she likes it, and she goes very, very still.
“Is that it, Joules Frost?” she growls, smearing pink lipstick across the white duvet. “A little weak-wristed tap?”
I smack her again, and Kaycee groans, crushing lipstick-stained teeth over a fold in the blankets. She bites it the way I want her to bite me, and I spank her again. My cock works her folds, rubbing along the outside, bumping into her clit. Lots of friction and wet, sticky heat. My palm soothes over the red marks on her ass, slips up and under her shirt—now useless and bunched around the narrowest part of her waist—and then slides back. Smack. Stroke. Pet. Smack. Soothe. Soft.
The back and forth has her whimpering into the mattress, her body going limp under my ministrations.
I smile.
There we go.
I flip that wildcat over and climb on top of her, taking her mouth again, licking and sucking and savoring. She fists her hand in my hair to drag me closer, pushes my palm over her breast to show me how she likes it. I kiss her until she’s got tears pricking the edges of her eyes, until she’s trembling, quivering thighs spread around my hips.
Then I sit up, her mouth swollen from my teeth, her body wet with sweat. I snatch her hips in both hands, and I drive in hard, bottom-out, balls slapping sweet flesh. I lean over Kaycee with one hand on the headboard, and then I give her exactly what she asked for: a nice, hard, wild fuck.
I use her tight body and her strong muscles to get myself off, thrusting deep and fast, groaning as loudly and unashamedly as Kaycee. She plays with her own breasts, head thrown back, tears leaking down her cheeks but somehow leaving her mascara and eyeliner untouched.
“What a hot, little princess you are, KQ.” I double my efforts, bearing down on her until she clamps so hard over me that I can barely move, a shocked gasp slipping past her lips as she reaches out for my T-shirt, grabbing at the fabric, yanking on it, begging me to come to her.
I stay right where I am, breathing heavily, absorbing the sight of this woman coming undone around me. And then, when her body finally relaxes over mine, softens and opens and liquefies, I take my own pleasure. I fuck myself right into a nice, hard climax, letting the trapped heat in my balls unfurl into the condom, filling it with cum when I should be filling Kaycee.
“Shit,” I moan again, rolling off of her and onto my back. Another confession, even if she doesn’t know it. Shit, shit, shit. I press the heels of both hands into my eyes and rub. I actually fucking like this girl. For the first time in my life, I have a crush on someone, and that life is almost over.
Kaycee rolls onto her side, and I take her into the crook of my arm, encouraging her to lay her head on my chest.
She traces a design through my shirt, right over my nipple, and I let out an involuntary little hiss.
“You don’t seem like the type to give up,” she tells me, reaching down to take the condom off. I watch her do it because, damn, I love the sight of her cleaning me up. She ties the condom and tosses it into the trash, but she plays with me a little, too, getting my release on her palms and reminding me how easy it is for me to get it up again.
“Does this look like I’m giving up?” I ask with a rough, sexed-up little laugh. Kaycee gets goose bumps, her tits still out, shirt pushed down, skirt bunched up, tights in tatters. She sits with her legs splayed on either side of her, knees together, lip crushed between her teeth in thought.
“You know what I mean, you fucking pervert.” She crawls up and over me, laying her body down on mine in a way that feels possessive, like a claiming.
“Why? You want me to live that badly, KQ?” I wrap my arms around her, and I like the way she feels. She fits with me in a way I’ve never experienced with my prior girlfriends. Whoever would’ve guessed? And I don’t even like her music.
Kaycee nuzzles her head into that spot between my neck and shoulder, and my arms tighten around her even further.
“Shit.” I say it again. Can’t help it. I like this woman. I’m crushing on her. I’m … I’m feeling guilty that I’ll be leaving her before we can even really get started. How fair is that, for me to tease us both with the promise of something that isn’t going to happen?
“If you like me, Joules,” Kaycee begins, her voice getting breathy, going soft. “Fight for me. Don’t lay down and die. Stand the fuck up.”
I roll her over suddenly, and she squeaks in surprise.
I have her shoulders pinned, my breathing heavy, hers speeding up to match.
“Don’t die for your sister: live for yourself.” She purses her lips in defiance, and I shove a hand into the pocket of my pants (still pushed down my hips, mind you). I roll new latex on, and then I fuck her again.
And again.
Again.
For the rest of the goddamn night.
I don’t believe in fate—despite the curse. No, I believe in choice.
So, this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to choose Kaycee, and let the pieces fall as they may.