Noelle steps in between his legs and his hands slip to her hips. I knock back my drink and push up from the stool, not wanting to watch whatever shit they’re about to do. Levi isn’t shy about sex in public.
“See you later, brother.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, distracted as he grabs a handful of the club bunny’s tit. Definitely my cue to get the fuck out of there.
I make my way up to my room and kick the door shut behind me as soon as I’m inside it. I shed my kutte, tossing it onto the end of the bed even as I kick off my boots. Taking the rest of my clothes off, I move into the bathroom and switch the shower on. The small space fills with steam and the air gets heavy as I step under the spray. The heat pounds my skin and soothes my muscles as I sluice the day’s filth off me.
Briella’s face dances in my mind and I try to push it aside, but all I can see is all that dark hair and her pretty features. I take my cock in my hand and I pump it up as I visualise her. My movements start slow but become more frantic as I close my eyes, the water cascading over my shoulders. My heart rate starts to quicken and it feels hard to draw in air as my balls start to tighten and my dick starts to ache. My other hand goes to the tiles, using it to steady me as I pull at my shaft. Wanking to her is wrong on so many levels, but I come faster than I’ve ever come before. I groan and fall forwards against the wall as jets of cum splash against the tile and down my hand.
I pull my softening dick a few more times before I release it and place both hands against the wall, shame crawling over me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
4
Briella
Layla tries to sneak into the flat Monday morning. I’m standing at the breakfast bar, a coffee in my hand, getting ready for work as she shoves the front door closed behind her. We’ve only been living together for the past year. I love Levi, but we needed our own space. He definitely didn’t need his little sister cramping his style. He kept the small flat we rented, while I moved out with Layla. I do miss being there with him sometimes, but I don’t miss him breathing down my neck all the time.
I clear my throat, making her whirl around, her eyes wide. Her hand goes to her chest.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“Where’ve you been all weekend?” I demand as she moves into the kitchen area and dumps her bag on the counter. She’s wearing a coat over her dress—the same dress she wore Friday night when we went out. I’m guessing she stayed the weekend with whomever she hooked up with.
“With Tanner.”
I should ream her out for leaving me alone in the bar, but she’s not responsible for what I do. I could have gone home when she left. I made my choice to stay and carry on drinking. I’d needed to lose myself in the bottom of a bottle for a little while longer. My memories were stronger that evening for some reason. My walls struggled to stay up. I could feel the dirt covering my skin, the sickness stirring in my belly as I tried and failed to push my thoughts away.
I lost control, though. I went too far and drank too much. I could have got hurt or worse. If Daimon hadn’t turned up, I have no idea what could have happened. Would I even care if that man had used me, taken another piece of me? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m so far beyond help these days, I scare even myself. I don’t care what happens to me, but I do care about my best friend. Thankfully, she looks whole, healthy, unblemished standing before me. Untainted, whereas I’m covered in the dirt of my past. The thought of what happened has my stomach flipping and my hands itching for a bottle to drown out the memories.
“Tanner? That the guy you ditched me for?” I ask as I wrap my hands around my mug, pushing the darkness out enough so I can draw in a breath.
Layla is gorgeous, so I’m not surprised she managed to hook up with someone who didn’t want to give her back for the entire weekend. She has luscious dark hair that falls straight down her back and eyes that are so dark brown they look black. Her Asian roots are clear in her features and I often find myself wishing I had her looks. She’s tiny, delicate and stunningly beautiful. Not like me. I have curves in the wrong places, a too full mouth and a too big nose. There’s nothing delicate about me.
“Yeah. He’s really sweet.” She rakes her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry for leaving you, Briella.”
I wave it off. “Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”
It’s a lie. I’ve never been able to take care of myself. I always had Levi to protect me, to keep me safe. At least until that night…
No, not going there. Not now.
He has no idea he failed to protect me from the monsters in the darkness, and I’ll never tell him. My brother did everything for me, gave up so much to keep me happy. He had no idea he unleashed the devil on me when he brought me to the Untamed Sons.
“I know you can,” Layla says, nibbling on her fingernails, “but I still should have made sure you got home okay. I’m the worst friend.”
She’s not. She’s been so good to me over the years. Layla is my oldest friend. I’ve known her since we started school. We were in the same class and growing up we were everything to each other. She was there after my dad’s beatings, she was there when my brother saved me from him, and she was there that night when I broke down and told her what happened to me at the hands of the club. She didn’t judge, though she did cry for me. I didn’t need her pity, and she didn’t give it to me. She gave me exactly what I needed—a way to forget. She gave me the medicine that soothes this ache.
Alcohol.
But I’m dragging her down my dark path, which is a problem. It’s only sheer luck that we both haven’t been murdered or worse. I walk on a knife’s edge, staring danger in the face. I don’t care about getting hurt. I should, but I don’t. I don’t care about anything but surviving the day and wading through the filth my life has covered me in. But Layla… she’s been on this self-destruct mission with me ever since she found out my truth. I wish I could make things easier for her, but I can’t. I should never have told her. I think it damaged her as much as it did me.
“We are not going out ever again,” I tell her.
She snorts at my assertion, knowing I’m lying my arse off. I couldn’t stop drinking if my life depended on it. It helps me to forget my screwed up life. For a few hours, I can let my hair down and be normal. I don’t like being out of control alone, though. I don’t like the thought I could have been damaged more than I already am.
Despite that, I know we’ll be back out tonight, letting the booze flow freely. I shouldn’t drag Layla down with me, but we’re a toxic mix, enabling each other. She gives me a license to release my demons into a bottle of booze and I drag her along my dark road. She’s too sweet, too innocent to stare the devil in the eyes, but I make her do that every time I drink.
If I was a good friend, I’d let her go, but I can’t. I need her just as much as I need the booze.
“Do you think maybe we should give the nights out a rest?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip. “We’ve been hitting it hard lately.”
We have. Too hard. I’m not surprised she’s starting to feel it. Layla likes to party, but this has moved beyond that. It’s a crutch I need to get through the day.