19. Till Its Gone

nineteen

Cam

Istare down at Violet, her pretty slender face positioned between my thighs, her head tilted up to look at me. 10

"If you want to come, it's ‘yes, boss'," she says.

My hips unintentionally buck forward, the vibration of the washing machine beneath me tunneling through my skin and radiating in my throbbing clit. I bite my lip, shaking my head.

"No," I manage to say, though it loses its meaning with the waver of my voice. Violet's brows raise in surprise.

"What?" Her enunciation is clearer than ever. I stand my ground.

"You might be my boss at work," I say, swallowing back a moan as the washing machine starts to shake harder. "But here, you listen to me."

How I gathered the strength to say that, I have no idea. Violet's eyes darken, her gaze narrowing onto me. I swallow nervously.

She could take me apart in an instant, I know it. But I can't let her win every round. It boosts her ego. Gives her too much confidence that I'll do whatever she wants. I have control too.

Violet doesn't respond. Or she does, just not verbally. Her tongue slips between my folds, licking hot wet stripes in the center. I groan, the rocking of the machine underneath us causing her tongue to vibrate. I don't know if I should take this as a win or not.

"Shit," I mumble, rolling my hips forward. Violet slides her thumb through my slick heat, then dragging it back and forth against the delicate skin.

"I thought this was supposed to be rough," I grumble. A gasp forces its way out of my throat as two fingers suddenly sink inside of me. I jolt forward, gripping her shoulder with a shaky moan. She smirks, and I hate the fact that she thinks she's winning.

"Maybe it isn't," I say breathily, my forehead wrinkling as Violet continues pumping into me. "An agreement."

She doesn't stop, but her head snaps up to look at me.

"What do you mean?"

A small moan forces itself out of my throat, but I push past it. Watching Violet's face is going to be so much more worth it.

"With Hayden. Maybe it's just how we are."

It isn't of course. Anyone who knows us knows we're practically siblings. But Violet doesn't know us, at least not together. I bite the inner corner of my lip as her face turns red, her jaw tightening, her fingers slowing down.

"Don't say his name while my fingers are inside you unless you want to know what regret feels like."

But I very much want to know.

"Who?" I ask, batting my eyelashes angelically. "Hayden?"

But I miss Violet's reaction because my eyes squeeze shut, my head tossing back as she presses back into me. Her fingers curl inside as her tongue dances on my vibrating clit.

"God you're such a fucking brat," she murmurs before latching her mouth back onto me. My thighs squeeze around her, the washing machine rocking my body from side to side as one of Violet's arms cradles my thigh. My stomach tightens, my hands slipping from the sides of the vibrating appliance beneath me. Her fingers dip in and out effortlessly, the wet slick mess she made of me causing electricity to run through my body. I melt against the washer.

My hips thrust forward, forcing her fingers deeper inside as her tongue glides across my throbbing clit.

"Oh fuck," I groan, using her face for my own pleasure. I should have told her off a long time ago. I feel it coming, the edge I need so desperately to tip over. I rock my hips harder, my eyes squeezing shut as Violet's name forces itself from my throat.

"Oh fuck, I can't," I whimper, my hands trembling and my legs shaking against the steady pound of the washing machine. Violet looks up, her mouth wet.

"You can," she says. "You can take it."

My chest heaves as I lock eyes with her, the words coming from her mouth so genuine and so convincing. But then, the corner of her mouth slowly creeps up. Suddenly, the friction against me ceases, the pressure inside of me stuck. I frown, looking down at her with pleading eyes and thrusting myself toward her, my legs still spread.

"You can take it, but you aren't going to until you learn to listen to me."

Oh fuck. No no no. My head tosses back as I let out an indiscernible plea. I look down at her desperately, my fingertips shaking against the edge of the coated steel.

"I told you," she taunts. "You'd regret it."

This cannot be happening.

"Fuck Violet. If you knew how badly I wanted you, you wouldn't be teasing me like this."

Violet smiles sweetly, tracing a wet finger in circles around my thigh.

"Oh, princess," she coos. "That's precisely why I'm teasing you."

The washing machine picks up again, rocking against the back wall as I squeeze my thighs shut, desperate for pressure.

She tuts, shaking her head and sliding them back apart.

"I thought you liked rules," she says.

I squirm under the tense vibration, the feeling traveling through my body to the most sensitive parts, the parts that need her the most. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The muscles in my body are tense, my clit throbbing, begging for contact.

Violet stands between my legs, her dark nipples hard. I slide forward, lifting my hips to graze my clit against the cold, metal piercing on her tits. She looks down, watching me rub my swollen desperate pussy on her pierced nipples, begging for any friction at all. Then, she looks back up at me, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She steps back, just far enough that I can't reach her anymore.

"You want to come?" she asks, her raspy voice making me weak.

I nod, pleading. She looks down at my dripping pussy, my legs spread wide on display just for her.

"God you're wet," she mumbles, tracing a finger up the center. She sucks it into her mouth, her eyes locking onto mine. "Who made you so wet?"

I swallow, fingers curling around the sides of the machine.

"You did, boss."*

Trying new things may just be my new favorite hobby. With Violet, at least, because holy fuck is my mind blown.

It's so foreign to me, enjoying something new without the constant fear of it going wrong. I don't know how she does it, makes me feel so confident about doing things I've never done before.

"I see you've made it," Violet smirks, leaning against the silver tub. I look up from the silver lab inside. "Does that mean I get to try again?"

I shoot her a glare that says, "contract violation," like I wouldn't like to see her try.

"Do you need something, or are you just going to keep coming in here to distract me?"

"Chico's dad wanted a nail trim. I was wondering if you'd—"

A melody cuts her off, singing cheerfully from her back pocket. Of course Violet would have "Walking on Sunshine" as her ringtone. How on-brand of her. She looks at the screen and smiles to herself before answering.

"What's up, Ruthie?" she asks casually. I don't know who Ruthie is, but for some reason, my stomach sinks just a little when I hear her name. My eyes dart to Violet's face, trying to read what her expression might tell me. But the second it reaches, that smile drops. Her forehead creases, her brows pressed together. "Woah, woah, slow down. What?"

Concern fills her face, her eyes darting back and forth in front of her, but I don't think she's really looking at anything. She shakes her head, her shoulders dropping.

"No Ruthie. I'm not-I can't. I'm sorry but no. I've put them both through it four times, and I can't afford to do it again. Especially—"

I'm assuming whoever Ruthie is interrupts her because Violet stops in the middle of her sentence. She shakes her head again.

"Ruthie, they never follow through. They are never going to follow through. I know it's a disease, I'm not saying it isn't. But—"

She stops again.

"No. If they wanted to get better, they would have by now. They have the tools, they have the support."

Violet's eyes dart up to me, then quickly lower. "I'm at work. I have to go. Love you," she says, then hangs up the phone. She slides it into her pocket, her eyes still lowered to the floor.

11"Sorry about that," she says, letting out a forced chuckle. "You know how sisters are."

I nod, like I have any idea how sisters can be.

Violet's eyes look glazed over, her once-loose body now tense and rigid. My head tilts, and I look at her with concern.

"Is everything okay?" I ask. I don't mean to, and really, I feel like I've completely overstepped by asking. This really is none of my business, and per our agreement, it should stay that way. But Violet's forced smile has me so unconvinced that the concern I feel only grows.

"Yeah, everything's fine," she says, scratching the back of her head. "It's..."

She stops, swallowing hard and I think she too just remembered the terms of our arrangement. But I don't care about that right now. I can tell something is bothering her, and I know I won't be able to think about anything else until I know why. I look around, the door to the salon shut tight.

"I've fucked you enough times to know when something is off," I say in a hushed tone, which may not be the best approach to a serious conversation. But if there's one thing I know about Violet, it's that "serious" isn't in her vocabulary. Her head shakes, and her eyes meet mine.

"It's nothing, really," she says, trying to play it off. "Parents are just hard sometimes."

I let out a soft laugh, not because it's funny but because if anyone knows how hard parents can be, it sure as hell isn't me. I never even met my mom, and my dad was my best friend. He wasn't ever difficult. Protective, maybe. But never hard. So really, the only thing I know about parents is that they die.

But I guess, in some way, that is parents being hard. It was hard to lose them. Sometimes, it's hard to live without them.

"Yeah," I say, looking up at her. "I get it."

Violet's eyebrow raises, her hazel eyes looking into mine like they're trying to read me. Her tongue fiddles with her lip piercing from the inside, which causes it to twist and turn. She sighs.

"It's… they haven't always been there. Never, actually," she says with a sad laugh. "And they've been leeching off my sister Ruthie for the past few months now because they got evicted from their house. I guess paying their rent wasn't as important as paying for drugs." She shakes her head, her gaze falling. "I've been trying to tell Ruthie to kick them out since the moment they moved in. There are shelters in the area they can go to, resources for them if they need it. But she refuses. She thinks they're going to get better."

A loud sigh escapes her mouth, and she rubs the dog's head gently. My stomach sinks, listening to her heart break. "You'd think after twenty-five years she'd stop thinking that. But anyway, she found a little baggie of something tucked under their mattress. And she's got two little kids in the house. She called me because she wants me to help her put them through rehab." Violet's voice breaks, but she swallows it down and continues with a firm tone. "Which they've already been through multiple times. They never stay sober for more than a week after. So, I told her no. I can't afford to keep doing it, especially if they aren't going to actually try. They've never tried." Her voice grows angry, her brows furrowed and her face red.

"Literally, for our entire lives, they've barely even been roommates. I fed Ruthie. I clothed her. I stole shirts out of the bins behind the thrift store, so we had something to wear to school, even if they were three sizes too big. We spent weekends in the hospital, with them taking turns on who OD'd. We'd sit there, praying they wouldn't die." She shakes her head, then her eyes dart to me. "And I know it's fucked up, but sometimes, I think it would be easier if they had."

The second those words leave her mouth, everything around me begins to spin. My eyes snap up to look at her, my heart pounding heavily against the inside of my ribcage. I can feel my nostrils flaring, my jaw clenching hard.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I snap, without even realizing I'm saying it. "Dead parents aren't something you wish for, Violet. It fucking sucks, okay? It sucks. So don't—" My voice breaks, and oh god, why are my eyes watering? "Don't think it's easier." I step away from her, tears falling down my cheeks. "Actually, you clearly aren't thinking at all."

Violet's eyes widen, her expression falling. "Fuck, Cam. I didn't know." Her hand reaches out to me, but I push it away. "I'm sorry. I never would've—"

"What? Wished your parents were dead? Or just said it out loud in front of me?" Violet goes quiet, her lips pressing together. I let out a loud scoff, my hands clenching into fists so tightly that my nails dig into the palms. "Just go," I say, in a tone that lets her know it isn't up for debate. "Please, just go."

Violet swallows, looking at me with round, apologetic eyes. But she exhales, then complies.

My hands tremble as I dig through my denim backpack, the medication bottle vibrating in my shaking palm. It's hard to take the cap off, but it finally clicks open. Two white pills travel down my throat. A shuddering breath slides into my lungs, and I hold it there steadily, wanting, in this moment, to never breathe again. *