Chapter Nineteen

Lyrical

I 'm at Bailey's storage, trying to find more evidence that her boyfriend exists and maybe get an address or a name. Something to prove his existence besides a faceless picture and the journal full of sketches.

This week has been a shit show. I'm going to get back at Savannah for trying to sabotage what little relationship I have with Snow. I have a plan, but I have to do this alone and not involve Snow. The bitch is going to pay for what she did.

I now know that Snow doesn't care about her—that he chose me.

Me.

To be his wife.

He could have gotten out of this arrangement and chose her. I'm not going to read into it too much, and I'm not going to get my hopes up about our relationship because, after all, our marriage is still arranged. I'm realizing now that my feelings for Snow are slowly returning. I don't think I can ever look past the way he treated me since the start of the semester, nor the fact he doesn't believe I'm telling the truth about me and Bailey being drugged, but I do know I can't help how I feel about him.

I'm conflicted.

Confused about what our relationship is. Our marriage is less than seven months away and I don't know if I'm ready for it.

After searching through Bailey's things for thirty minutes, I don't find shit, and it annoys the hell out of me.

I drop to my knees on the hard concrete, sighing, wiping sweat from my forehead.

There isn't much to be found in the boxes, just her clothing, old school textbooks, a few folders with sketches.

Opening up a folder, my eyes stay glued to a sketch Bailey had drawn of herself with a baby dangling from her stomach. She went into great details drawing this picture. At the bottom, there is a picture of hands folded, a photo of the guy with his hands wrapped around her. I read the handwritten text in the corner.

I shouldn't have aborted our baby, even though it was for our relationship. You said it was my choice, but have I been manipulated? I did this for you. I hope you know that.

She was pregnant. I don't want to believe it. Why would she keep it a secret from me? I picture her being alone and scared while going through that awful experience.

I search through more stuff, find some old photos of us, so I grab those along with the sketch, lock the storage back up, and make my way to the parking lot.

It's been raining on and off, and the smell of mist and wet asphalt hits my nostrils.

A guy is walking slowly behind me, wearing a black hoodie, his hands tucked in his pants pockets. Is that Snow following me? I told him where I was going and I gave him my location.

I take out my phone to shoot him a text.

Me: Are you following me?

I watch the guy behind me from the corner of my eye. I note that he doesn't bother looking at his phone, so my spidey sense is telling me it's not Snow; he wouldn't hide behind a hoodie either. With my heart beating loud in my ears, I have to remain calm. I can't let the guy know I know he's following me. I pretend to be looking around the empty parking lot, trying to calm my nerves, but my stomach turns, and fear overrides my senses. I glance back at the guy to see a knife is tucked between his fingers, so I run to my car, get inside, and slam the door shut in his face. The guy beats on my door, screaming at me to get out, banging the handle of the knife against the window to try to break it. Fortunately, my windows are both shatterproof and bulletproof. I watch the guy leave, get on a motorcycle, and with shaking hands, I put my car into gear and rush out of the parking lot.

The guy is right behind me. We're bobbing and weaving through traffic as anxiety tightens in my chest.

He's fast on my tail and my car isn't a sports car, it's a Lexus I got after the accident.

My dashboard shows Snow's name, so I answer on the first ring. "Someone is following me, Snow. I'm so scared."

"Calm down, take deep breaths. Go straight to the mansion, the one where Jameson, Keanu, and Irvin live. I'll be waiting for you."

I switch lanes, even run a red light, but he's still on my ass, like white on rice. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Yeah. Trust me, it is."

I do eighty through the town and the guy on the motorcycle pulls up beside me, trying to run me off the road, but I floor the gas pedal, speeding up, and now he's right behind me.

Once I make it on campus, I take the path which leads up to the mansion. Snow and Jameson are waiting in the driveway, guns in their hands. I park just as Snow shoots the guy in the arm, but he takes off at full speed. Keanu then speeds off on his motorcycle, following the guy in the hoodie.

Snow rushes to my car, opens my door, and I hug him tight. Tears fall down my cheeks, and I feel safe and protected in his arms. He squeezes me back, stroking the back of my head, soothing me, whispering in my ears that I'm safe. All the while my tears wet his cotton shirt.

"Come inside," he says, wrapping his arm around my waist.

When we're in the living room, I exhale, slouching on the couch, relaying everything I learned at the storage. I even show Snow the sketch and my theory that Bailey was pregnant at one time, about the way she was acting strange before her death and how she was paranoid. He punches the wall, screaming.

Guilt flashes in his pupils. "I failed my sister," he says to himself. "She was suffering, and I wasn't there to protect her." He hangs his head as he runs his fingers through his hair.

No one says a word for several moments. I place my hands on his cheeks, and to my surprise, he leans into my touch, causing me to blush.

"Snow, look at me."

He shakes his head, and I'm assuming he feels too shameful to look at me.

"Please. I need you to look at me."

"It's not your fault. Bailey kept a lot of secrets from us. It's no one's fault," I say, genuinely.

He nods, but I don't think he believes me.

"I mean what I say, Snow. I'm serious. I don't know what to believe, what was real and what wasn't. She lived a double life, and who knows what she was into."

My best friend hid so much of her life from me the last few years of her life. At first, I thought I was being crazy, that I'm the one who should feel guilty and not him. I was the one who was spending a lot of time with her. I should have seen the signs that something was off. Tears wet my eyes because I truly don't know who she was during the last few years of her life. If I had been more forceful, maybe follow her to places when she used to disappear, then maybe I could have saved us both. When she said she felt like someone was following her, I should have taken her seriously. I failed her more than anyone else in her life.

I've never felt as much guilt as I do now.

"Did Keanu track him down?" Snow asks, squeezing my shoulders tight.

"Yeah. He sent me a text, he's on his tail," Jameson replies, kicking up his shoes on the coffee table, typing on his phone. "He's going to beat him and bring him to the basement."

"Go lie down in my old bedroom. You need to rest, Lyrical."

Usually, I would fight him, but not tonight. So, I head upstairs, go directly to Snow's bedroom, kick off my shoes, and slide under the covers. And I fall asleep.

Snow

I watch Blue sleep. She has her arm draped over her face, letting out a loud snore. I move her hand, swiping her dark hair from her forehead, and I stroke her chin, studying every inch of her face. I used to do this a lot when she spent the night at my place. I used to wonder what her lips would taste like, what she would do if she woke up with me buried between her legs, eating her pussy like I'm starving.

When I slide off the bed, I open the window, letting the breeze touch my face as I stare out at the crescent moon. The sky is cloudy tonight and the salty air wafts into my nostrils. I need to clear the thoughts and emotions I have for Lyrical. Her almost being attacked by the guy in the hoodie made me realize how much I still want her, that I care about her. I should hate her for destroying my family. I should take a knife and stab her with it, but it wouldn't benefit me in any way. I thought I was going to lose her, and I don't want to feel as if my chest is sinking and I'm gasping for air.

The idea of seeking revenge on her doesn't sound appealing anymore. But I feel as if I'm not getting justice for Bailey by not getting back at Lyrical for what she did. I'm so used to blaming Lyrical for her death, and a part of me wants to believe she's the cause of my sister's death. I'm not saying I want to marry her but what I'm saying is, I can't fight what I want—and I want her.

I need her.

I crave her.

I've never wanted anyone the way I want her.

Those feelings I felt for her before the car accident, I can't keep them buried much longer.

I forget how much I hate her, how I'm supposed to hate her.

I forget she's my enemy.

Sucking in some fresh air, I close the window, then I make my way to the bed, pulling off the blanket wrapped around her body. I need to taste her, need to touch her, and I need to fuck her. Slowly, I unbutton her jeans, yanking them down to her ankles, then I toss them to the floor. She stirs but turns onto her side, but I slowly turn her on her back again, yanking down her panties. I take a good look at her glistening pussy, and she's already wet. My dick aches in my pajama pants, needing to release all over her.

She's mine.

I might not want to marry her, but I want to own every inch of her body, and I want her to realize that she belongs to me.

Placing my mouth on her clit, she moans softly, wrapping her legs around my shoulders with her eyes closed.

She wanted this. She wants me to fuck her in her sleep. She loves it when I take from her and do what I want to her sweet body.

She slowly humps my face as I slide my fingers inside of her, squeezing around every digit. She moans loudly as I spread her wide.

"S-Snow… what are you doing?" She rubs her eyes and glances down at me, sucking in a breath.

She lies back down, and I expect her to fight me, like she used to, but she takes it, like she needs it. I'm not letting her go, no matter how she feels.

She moans my name, arches her back, yanks my hair hard to the point my scalp stings.

I don't care.

Once I let her ride out her orgasm, I remove my dick from my pajama pants, slide into her slick pussy, and I fuck her so hard. The headboard knocks against the wall and she squeezes herself around me. I grip her by the neck tightly, squeezing hard. I've never been a gentle lover.

I lean down and whisper in her ear, "That's it, take this dick like a good girl. Come on my cock, Blue. Show me who this pussy belongs to."

"Harder, please," she manages to get out.

When I push inside of her as hard as I can, I pull out and do it again. I kiss her, biting her bottom lip, drawing blood. She darts out her tongue and licks up the blood.

Fuck. That's hot.

"You like taking my dick."

She doesn't respond, just enjoying this. My balls tighten and the crown of my cock tingles.

"Open your mouth, Blue."

I slide out of her and stand at the edge of the bed. Blue sits up on her knees, places her mouth on the crown of my dick, then she sucks hard. Moaning, I place my hand in her hair, yanking the strands tight. She deep throats my dick, playing with my balls. My spine tingles, and my toes fucking curl, as I empty out in her mouth, and she swallows, darting out her tongue to lick up every drop. She gets up from her knees and heads to the bathroom, but I have more plans for her. I scoop her up in my arms, bend her over, and put her ass in the air. I grab lube from the drawer and slide it along the crack of her ass.

I stick my finger inside of her ass and she squeezes it as she gasps loudly. I slide my dick inside of her pussy and using the clit stimulator I stole from her, I place it on her clit, causing her to scream.

"S-Snow, it's too much. Please, stop. I can't take any more."

I completely ignore her.

She wants this. She wants to be fucked beyond reason.

When she tries to straighten out her legs, I hold her hips, keeping her in place as I fuck her hard. She screams as her orgasm rips through her and I feel her pussy squeeze the life out of my dick.

It feels so fucking good, I can't believe I've been missing out on this. I should have fucked her the minute I laid eyes on her. I should have fucked her the night we went swimming in the ocean. I had so many opportunities to fuck her and I didn't.

She sags against the bed, the side of her head resting on the sheets, all the while I continue to fuck her. Her eyelids are heavy-lidded as I come inside of her. When I pull out of her, I go into the bathroom, turn on the faucet of the tub, and I go back into the bedroom to remove her shirt before I scoop her up in my arms like a newborn baby and place her in the tub.

She casts me a bewildered look. "Have you bumped your head?"

I arch my eyebrow. "No. Why?"

She sighs at the feel of the steamy water on her skin. "Why are you being nice to me? Usually, you leave me covered in your cum."

"Let me be nice."

I slide into the water across from her, and she stares at me like I've grown three heads.

"You're up to something."

"Why do I have to be up to something for me to take care of you?"

She shakes her head, brings her knees to her chest, and stares at the tattoo on my chest. I've never been this intimate with any woman, and I've never bathed with one either.

"Whatever," she mumbles under her breath.

"What did you say?" I ask, daring her to repeat herself.

She shakes her head. "Nothing. Has Jameson found out who was sent to kill me?"

"Not yet, but he's working on it."

"I'm scared, Snow. I don't want to leave here until he is found."

"Understood."

She nods, then starts to sob. I don't like that another man made her cry.

When we catch the son of bitch, I'm going to make his death a slow one after I get all the information out of him.

"Don't cry, Lyrical. That motherfucker doesn't deserve your tears."

"And you do?"

"No one deserves to make you cry—but me."

"You're insane." She sighs. "Please, make me forget."

I pull her to me and slide her onto my dick, bouncing her up and down. She slowly rides me, not giving herself time to adjust to my size. Once I come inside of her, I bathe her body, then I wash myself.

"Chase me through the woods," she whispers. If I wasn't paying attention, I would have missed it. "Chase me through the woods, find me, and fuck me, please."

Usually, I would find something snarky to say, but I don't. She slides off of me, getting out of the tub, and water drips onto the tiles. When she grabs a towel, she rubs the cotton fabric along her pretty flesh.

"Give me a head start."

I love it when she begs me to fuck her, and my dick hardens at the thought.

"Five," I say.

Her eyes widen, and a smile creeps onto her face.

"Four."

Tossing the towel into the empty basket, she dashes out of the bathroom.

"Three," I shout.

I follow her to the bedroom and watch her put on some clothes, then I go into my walk-in closet, throwing on a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. My heart hammers in my chest as I walk back into the bedroom, watching her tie her shoelaces.

"Two."

She stares at me in awe, biting her lips, then she walks up to me, stands on her tippy-toes, and kisses me before dashing out of the room.

"One."

I chase her.