Two years ago
“Stuck In My Ways” by Kid Bookie blares from my surround sound speakers, drowning out Christina’s breathy moans. Her ass is arched up as I thrust into her. She falls forward, screaming out my name. Her noises egg me on. The pressure of my orgasm builds in my lower spine. I hook my arm around her waist, pulling her back up onto her hands and knees.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan as her pussy clenches around my cock.
I’ve only had sex one other time, at school in the girls’ bathroom, and it wasn’t from this angle. Her virgin blood coats my lower abs, easing the friction so I glide more easily. I sink into her, bottoming out. She’s warm and wet for me. Dipping my hand between us, I gather the blood on my fingertips, relishing in the velvet texture. She asked for this, and I was happy to oblige for my own purposes. My bedroom door is wide open, ready for the show to begin.
I grab on to her hips to hold her in place before I thrust up into her sweet cunt. Her legs tremble around me, and my balls tighten. It doesn’t last as long as I thought it would. I can’t hold out, but it does the trick. Sweat beads down my face, and I rake my clean hand through my damp hair.
When I look up, my stepmom’s face is ghost white in the doorway, and her mouth is agape in horror. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” my stepmom screams. “Wade! Come get your son. I’ve had enough of this.”
Christina scrambles off my bed, grabbing her discarded clothes off my floor. Her blonde hair is knotted and wavy from all the foreplay we’ve been doing this weekend. She turns to me, eyes the size of saucers. “You told me they would be out till Monday,” she hisses.
“Yeah, I lied,” I smart off, waving at my stepmom with the blood of a virgin coating my fingers and giving them a wiggle.
My stepmom continues to stand in the doorway with her face twisted in disgust. Good, now maybe she will fucking leave. My lips stretch into a grin, hoping this will be the moment that breaks her. I don’t even bother getting dressed. My dick swings between my legs as I try to push her over the edge. I have no shame. I’m proud of the goods I have. I stand there exposed until she stomps away on the marble floor with her heels clacking loudly.
If Christina weren’t here, I would fist bump the air, but she is pissed I didn’t let her in on my plan. Her brows furrow as she yanks her clothes on, letting out a huff of annoyance. She’ll get over it, and things will go back to normal on Monday. Especially when she corners me in the bathroom at school, begging to suck my soul out of my dick.
She storms out of my room, her footsteps echoing down the stairs. In the back of my mind, I feel like I should regret taking her virginity this way. It festers in my brain, but I quickly shut that shit down. This needed to happen in order to get what I want.
The front door slams closed, announcing her departure, and my dad and stepmom waste no time. They argue back and forth about my behavior, which they can never agree on. Why the fuck should they? She’s not even my mom, just a gold-digging bitch my dad decided to marry.
After finding my boxer briefs on the floor, I pull them on, and I change the stereo to the next song. Even with the music at full volume, I can still hear their shouts. The last thing I want to hear are her opinions of me and what I should be doing with my life. I pull out my headphones and connect to the Bluetooth, then blast my eardrums with “Dirtbag” by Kid Bookie until their voices are nonexistent.
The chorus seems fitting for what my stepmom thinks of me. I sit on my bedroom couch, laying my head back, and close my eyes. The guitar chords play through their riffs. Bang! The song ends at the same time my doorknob hits the wall. My dad looms in the doorway, his face turning red. My abs tighten, ready for what’s to come next.
“You little piece of shit,” Dad roars, his fists clenching at his sides.
He stalks to where I’m sitting on the couch. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. I’m not scared of him, and my calm demeanor sets him off. “What’s the matter, Dad? Can’t handle what you dish out?” He grips my throat and pushes back until I see the speckles of popcorn on the ceiling.
“You always have to fuck it up,” he hisses, spittle landing on my face. I wipe it off one-handed, running my palm over my face and ending it with a smile. Another show of how he doesn’t affect me. His eyes darken and lips pull back in a vicious snarl. He grips my throat tighter, and I don’t move or react. I want him to explode.
Fucking. Kill me.
Within a blink, a sharp pain explodes over my eye, my cheek, and finally my nose as his fists land on every inch of my face. If only the school didn’t care so much about my dad’s donations, they would have called child protective services a long time ago, but instead, they make excuses for him. I’m a shit, a punk, a fuckup. A good-for-nothing teenage rebel. They label me everything under the sun, so why not live up to their expectations? All of them are living for the shit show that is my life. I can’t let them down, can I? What else would they whisper and gossip about in the halls of our elite private school.
Dad lets go of me. His demeanor switches to one of calculated calm. “Clean this shit up,” he barks.
Black spots dance over my vision. I blink a few times and smile up at him. My eye and lip are already tightening from the swelling.
“Is she gone?” I ask, because if I can’t live happily, neither can he.
“You know the answer to that already,” he states before exiting my room, leaving the door wide open.
And just like that, we are back to our regular program. I lie there on my overturned couch, staring at the ceiling. The music in my headphones is gone, leaving the silence to rake over my already sensitive nerves. I catch a black blur in the corner of my eye. My phone is on the floor in my periphery, and I grab it, scrolling through my playlist until I see the one. The song that understands me as if the lyrics were written with me in mind. I hit play and lie there, drowning in the words and melody. The tightness in my chest eases.
“I Want Out” by LOWBORN is all I hear as I close my eyes and rest.
Chapter 1
Violet
Present day
“Hey, Mark. Dani and I are heading out for lunch, if that’s okay with you,” I shout toward our boss’s office.
We are sitting at our desks on the main floor. Dani cuts her eyes to me, biting her lip. We are both eagerly awaiting his response. We’ve had a shit day so far with all the calls we’ve had, but we made plans to go to the grand opening of Poppy Valley. What makes this event even better is the mayor of Seattle will be an honored guest.
There’s a long pause before Mark hollers, “Yes, fine, but you’ve got to get me something too.”
Dani and I both look over at each other, grinning. I want to jump up and down with excitement, but I contain myself, jogging over to Mark’s office door instead. He’s leaning over a stack of papers that is the equivalent of a month’s worth of work. A small pang of guilt resonates in my chest. I kinda feel bad for leaving him in this mess, but my empty stomach rumbles, reminding me that coffee isn’t on the food pyramid.
Rapping on the partly open door, I gain his attention and ask, “Anything in particular?”