Chapter 8

8

Ryan Oakes - Numb

A few days have passed, blurring into one long, hazy stretch of time where the only constants are Tatum and the drugs. We’ve spent nearly all of it holed up in my room, raiding our parents’ medicine cabinets and popping pills like candy. The school’s been calling, leaving voicemails that we never answer. None of it matters. The world outside is distant, irrelevant like it doesn’t even exist.

But she does.

Tatum’s been quiet today, more than usual, the drugs dulling her usual sharpness. I can tell she’s itching to get out, the way she keeps glancing at the door, her fingers twitching, restless. Her restlessness is infectious, crawling under my skin until I can’t ignore it anymore. She’s like a caged animal, pacing, her energy coiled tight, ready to snap. So I think it’s time to take her out again, back to the club. It’s been days since we last went since she killed that guy.

The memory of it replays in my mind, “Let’s go out tonight,”

I can see the excitement flicker in her eyes at the mere mention of leaving the house. The drugs are clearly working their magic, making her eager for the chaos we thrive on.

“Yes! Thank fuck. I could use some fresh air,” she jumps up excitedly, “but first, we need to shower. Can’t take you out looking like that,” she adds with a laugh. I watch as she lifts my black t-shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor. She’s been living in it for days.

No panties, just my goddamn t-shirt.

I follow her, sliding my sweatpants down my legs and kicking them to the side.

After a few minutes the bathroom is a haze of steam, and the hot water pounds against the tiles like rain. The air is thick and humid, clinging to our skin as we step inside. The fluorescent lights above cast a dim, flickering glow, making the room feel surreal like we’re caught in some kind of dream. Or maybe it’s just the drugs.

I can barely feel the water, though. The pills we took before stumbling in here have my head swimming, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Everything’s distant like I’m moving through molasses, but Tatum is the one thing that’s sharp and vivid, the only thing that cuts through the fog.

She steps under the spray first, her skin glistening as the water cascades over her. She tilts her head back, letting it drench her hair. Her dark strands clinging to her face and body. There’s something almost hypnotic about the way she moves, her hands sliding down her slick skin, the way her eyes flutter shut as she lets out a soft sigh and loses herself in the sensation.

I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s mesmerizing, her every movement a temptation, a dare. My heart is pounding, each beat thrumming in my ears, but it’s not just the drugs this time. It’s her. It’s always fucking her.

I step closer, the water hitting my skin in a rush of warmth, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off her. She opens her eyes, meeting mine with a look that makes my cock twitch. Her lips curve into a slow, knowing smile like she can read my thoughts and knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Without a word, she drops to her knees on the wet tiles, the water splashing around her, mixing with the slickness of her skin. Her eyes never leave mine as she reaches out and wraps her fingers around me, firm and confident. There’s no hesitation in her movements, no uncertainty. She knows what she’s doing, and she knows I want it.

The sensation of her mouth on my cock’s head is electric. It sends a jolt of pleasure through my body that has me gripping the edge of the shower for support. The combination of the drugs and her touch is overwhelming, a heady mix that leaves me reeling, barely able to think. All I can do is feel—feel the warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue, the goddamn pressure as she takes me deeper.

She moves with a slow, deliberate rhythm, her tongue tracing along every inch of me. Her lips form a perfect seal around my girth. The steam from the shower surrounds us, a thick, swirling cloud that makes everything feel even more intense and more surreal. The sound of the water hitting the tiles mixes with the wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working me over.

My hand finds its way to the back of her head. My fingers tangle in her wet hair as I guide her, but she shoves it away. She wants to take control. Her eyes flick up to meet mine, dark and full of something primal, something that sends a surge of heat straight to my cock. She’s enjoying this as much as I am.

Fuck, maybe even more.

Her other hand comes up, cupping my balls as she softly massages them, adding to the sensation, and I can’t hold back the low groan that escapes my lips. It echoes off the tiles around us, lost in the steam and the pounding water, but she hears it, and it spurs her on. She picks up the pace, her head bobbing faster, taking me deeper, her throat constricting around me in a way that has my vision blurring, stars dancing at the edges.

“Fuck, Tatum,” I groan as I look down at her, watching how well her pretty mouth takes me. “You suck me so fucking good.”

It’s too much, too intense, and I can feel the pressure building, coiling tight in my gut, ready to snap. She can feel it, too, the way my body tenses, my hips bucking slightly against her mouth. But she doesn’t stop. She never stops. Instead, she goes even harder, her hand tightening, her mouth moving faster, her eyes locked on mine, watching, waiting for me to fall apart.

And when I do, it’s like the world shatters around me. The pleasure crashes over me in waves, each one stronger than the last, pulling me under, drowning me in the sensation. I can barely breathe, barely think, but she doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull away, milking every last drop, every last tremor, until I’m spent, leaning against the wall for support with my legs barely able to hold me up.

She finally pulls back, wiping the corner of her mouth with a satisfied smirk and her eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and something darker, something that matches the chaos swirling inside me. She stands, her movements slow and languid, as if she’s savoring the moment, letting it stretch out, letting the aftermath of what just happened settle between us.

I reach out, pulling her close, my hands sliding over her wet skin as I kiss her hard. I can taste myself on her lips. It’s mingled with the faint sweetness of the drugs still in our systems. It’s a raw, messy kiss, full of need and lust, something that burns hot and bright in the pit of my stomach. She responds with the same intensity, her hands gripping my shoulders and her nails digging into the tattoos along my back.

When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathless, our hearts pounding in time with each other. The water continues to beat down on us, the steam curling around our bodies, but it’s like background noise now, distant, irrelevant, just like everything else. Grabbing the bar of soap from the shelf, I lather my hands before washing her body from head to toe. She watches, her eyes following the movement of my hands as I spread the suds along her slick body. When I’m finished, I quickly wash myself down.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispers, her voice rough, her breath hot against my ear.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice just as ragged. “Let’s go.”

We step out of the shower, the air cool against our heated skin, the drugs still coursing through us, making every movement feel slow, deliberate like we’re moving through a dream. But it’s a good dream, one that I don’t want to wake up from.

She wraps herself in a towel, her hair still damp, clinging to her neck in dark tendrils. I can’t take my eyes off her as I grab my own towel and wrap it around my waist. The way she moves and carries herself, it’s like she’s ready to take on the world tonight and burn it all down.

Shit, maybe we will.

We leave the bathroom, out of the haze of steam, and head toward the bedroom to get ready. Because tonight, we plan to lose ourselves in the darkness once more.

After our shower, I watched Tatum spend hours getting ready. Like a trance, I was unable to tear my eyes from her. Tonight, she’s wearing a short skirt that rides high on her thighs, leaving little to the imagination, and a tight black top that clings to her like a second skin. The neckline plunges low enough to make anyone stare. Her dark hair is straight, slicked back into a high ponytail that makes her look even more dangerous, like a predator on the hunt. There’s something about the way she dresses now, all sharp edges and bold choices, that makes me proud. She’s becoming more like me every day, and I can’t help but admire the transformation.

“How do I look?” she asks as she steps toward me. With my back pressed firmly against the door frame to her room, I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her in against me, and lower my head to the crook of her neck.

“Like you’re dressed to kill, my little lunatic,” I whisper as I inhale her sweet scent. She giggles, and fuck if it’s not a magical goddamn sound. Soft and sweet yet laced with a hidden darkness. I press soft kisses along her neck and up behind her ear as I pull her in against my chest.

“Stop,” she laughs, shoving me away, “If you keep kissing me like that, we won’t be going anywhere, and I worked way too hard to look this good for it to be wasted.”

She’s not wrong. Tatum always looks good, but tonight, fuck, she could kill just with her looks. I almost don’t want to take her out for anyone else to see, almost.

“Alright, then,” I add, pressing a kiss to her head, “Let’s go,” and with that, I release her. She slides on a pair of heels as I grab the keys to my car and we head out.

As we approach the club, the neon lights flickering in the distance, Tatum’s pace slows. She’s been quiet, too quiet, and I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves. Her hand clutches mine, but it’s not the usual, casual grip—it’s tight, almost desperate. I glance at her, noticing the way her eyes keep darting around like she’s searching for something, anything to calm the gnawing need inside her.

“Caius…” Her voice is soft, barely audible over the distant thump of the club’s music, but there’s an edge to it that catches my attention. She stops walking, pulling me to a halt with her. “I need… I need something. Just a little bit before we go in.”

I know what she means. I can see it in the way her pupils are blown wide, the slight tremor in her hands. She’s addicted now; the drugs have their claws deep in her, and she can’t shake it. Won’t shake it. And part of me likes it that way—likes that she needs it, needs me, to keep her steady.

I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small baggie of pills and powder we’ve been dipping into all week. Her eyes lock onto it, hunger flashing across her face, and she’s already reaching for it before I’ve even opened it.

“Easy,” I murmur, holding it just out of her reach momentarily, watching as her desperation flares. It’s a power trip, knowing she’s hooked, that she’s willing to beg for it if she has to. “You know I’ve got you.”

She nods, swallowing hard, her eyes wide and pleading as she waits. Her breath quickens with anticipation. “Please, Caius. Just a little. I need it. I can’t… I can’t go in there without it.”

Her words send a thrill through me, a dark satisfaction in seeing her this way, dependent on me, on the drugs. I take out a small pill and hand it to her. I watch as she snatches it with trembling fingers before popping it into her mouth and swallowing it dry. Her eyes flutter shut as she waits for it to kick in, for the edge to soften and the world to blur just enough to make it bearable.

I lean in, pressing my lips to her ear, my voice low and rough. “Feel better now, baby?”

She nods again, her breathing slowing as the drug begins to work its magic, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah… better. Much better.”

“That’s my good girl,” I reply, pulling back to look at her, satisfied with how her body relaxes and the tension melts away. “Now, let’s go have some fucking fun.”

She smiles, a twisted, eager grin that mirrors the darkness inside me, and I know we’re ready for whatever the night throws our way. We turn toward the club, the neon lights reflecting off the slick pavement, and I can already feel the music vibrating through the ground beneath us, calling us in.

We’re unstoppable together, and with the drugs in our system, we’re invincible.

Tatum’s in her element, moving to the beat like she’s part of it, her body swaying and her hips rolling. I’m right there with her, watching, touching, lost in the rhythm.

Lost in her.

We’re not alone for long. Another couple joins us on the dance floor. The girl’s cute, but she’s got nothing on Tatum. Still, there’s something about her that catches my eye. Maybe it’s the way she moves, the way she looks at Tatum like she’s a goddamn goddess. She’s petite, with a body that curves in all the right places, her hair in loose waves that frame her face. There’s a hint of innocence there, but something darker lurks beneath the surface, making me think she’s more like us than she lets on.

The guy she’s with is less interesting, but I can tell he’s watching the girls, just like me, waiting to see what happens next. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grin that tells me he thinks he’s got this under control. But he has no idea what he’s walking into.

The girls start dancing together, close, too close, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies to the beat of the music. Tatum’s smiling, a rare, genuine smile that lights up her face, making her look almost innocent, if not for the drugs swimming in her system. But I can tell she’s having fun, and that’s all that matters.

“Looks like they’re getting along,” the guy says, leaning in close so I can hear him over the music. His voice is casual like this is just another night out, but there’s an edge to it, a hint of something else.

“Yeah,” I reply, keeping my eyes on Tatum as she laughs, her head thrown back, her body moving in sync with the other girl’s. “They are.”

The guy watches them for a moment longer, then turns to me, a sly grin on his face. “You up for a little more fun?”

I glance at Tatum, see the excitement in her eyes, and I don’t hesitate. “Always.”

He nods, his grin widening. “Good. There’s a motel a few blocks from here. We could get a room to keep the party going.”

I look at Tatum again, and she’s already looking at me, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. She knows what’s coming, and under the influence of everything she’s taken, she’s excited. She fucking wants this. I can see it in the way her body moves, the way she’s practically vibrating with energy.

I turn back to the guy. “Lead the way.”

We leave the club together, the four of us stumbling through the streets, laughing, touching, high on the anticipation of what’s to come. It doesn’t take long to find the motel. It’s one of those dingy places that doesn’t ask questions. The neon sign flickers above the entrance, casting an eerie glow over the parking lot. A few hookers lean against the white stucco wall by the main office. Waiting for their next customer for the night.

We get a room, and the moment the door closes behind us, the atmosphere shifts. There’s a tension in the air, thick and heavy, charged with anticipation.

Tatum’s practically vibrating with it, her eyes wide, pupils blown, her body ready for whatever happens next. She’s high, so fucking high, and I can tell she’s excited, eager to see where this night will take us.

And fuck, so am I.

The couple watches us, the girl biting her lip, the guy’s hand resting possessively on her hip. They’re nervous and unsure, but there’s a hunger in their eyes that tells me they’re ready for this. Ready to see just how far we’re willing to go.

“Nice place,” Tatum says, her voice slightly slurred as she looks around the room. It’s basic, with a bed, a small table, and a bathroom that’s probably seen better days, but none of that matters. We’re not here for the décor.

The girl giggles a nervous sound that makes Tatum smile. “Yeah, it’s not much, but it’ll do,” she says, her voice soft, almost shy.

Tatum steps closer to her, her movements fluid and graceful, despite the drugs coursing through her system. “It’s perfect,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from the girl’s face. The girl shivers under her touch, her eyes half-lidded as she leans into it.

The guy watches them, his expression a mix of arousal and apprehension. He catches my eye, and I see the uncertainty there, the question he doesn’t dare ask. But I don’t give him a chance. Instead, I step closer, closing the distance between us, my hand landing on his shoulder in a firm grip.

“Relax,” I say, my voice low, soothing. “We’re just here to have a good time.”

He nods, swallowing hard as he glances back at the girls, who are now pressed against each other, their lips inches apart. “Yeah, a good time.”

I smirk, releasing his shoulder as I step back, giving him space to move. “Exactly.”

Tatum glances back at me, a wicked grin on her face as she pulls the girl closer, her hands roaming over her body. “You ready?” she asks, her voice husky, filled with dark promise.

“Always,” I reply, my gaze locked on hers, the thrill of what’s to come sending a surge of adrenaline through my veins.

And with that, the night begins.