Always (Cape Hill Book 3) Page 9

  I hear a low groan from him as he trails kisses down my throat, sliding to his knees. What is he doing?

  “B-Brady,” I start, panicking, knowing us going any further will only end up hurting us both.

  He shushes me, placing a finger over my lips. His eyes implore, his face full of emotions that he’ll never tell me about, never utter aloud. “Give me this.”

  I nod, and he’s back to his knees, lifting my graduation gown. His fingers don’t fumble over the buttons like Leia does. He’s sure. Precise. He’s ready for me.

  His hot hands finger the elastic band of my boxer briefs, and I’m sucking in air, both in fear and anticipation. His lips singe my hot skin as he places a kiss at my hip then nips it in the next moment. I can’t see anything with him underneath my robe, but I can feel everything.

  When he frees my thick erection, I tense. This is the farthest I’ve gone with him. As if he realizes this too, he kisses a reassuring kiss to my hip again. His mouth, warm and wet and welcome, encircles the head of my cock.

  “Fuck, Brady.” I’m groaning way too loud. We’re going to get caught if I don’t shut up.

  Before I can think about stopping him, he’s taking me to the back of his throat, causing my legs to shake. He bobs, making this suction sound that has me near explosion.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant.

  His hands grip my ass, kneading the tense globes with experienced motions. It bugs me, knowing I’m not his first. No one can suck this well without practice, and that knowledge unfurls something bitter in me. Jealousy.

  He pops off me, his mouth trailing lower, slicking my balls. Flicking out his tongue, he licks each side, and I feel enraptured and combustible all at once. I lean into the wall as he sucks one into his mouth, making me nearly buckle, but as soon as he started, he stops and is back to my dick, sucking me harder than before. With the same stirrings of jealousy as before, I slide my hands through his hair, gripping the back of his head, forcing myself deeper inside.

  I pump with earnest, my hips jackknifing forward as his sweet mouth takes me with ease. I’m about to come. He’s too good at this, and I’m not sure if there’s a rule or not, but Leia never swallows, and I always warn her. Call it being a gentleman. Call it whatever the fuck you want, but I’m not about to do something he’s not okay with.

  “About to come,” I growl, still gripping his head, still thrusting forward.

  He palms the back of my thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh, forcing me to enjoy the feel of him before I let loose in his mouth.

  Right as I’m coming, he grabs my balls, rolling them as spurts of my come paint his tongue. He’s swallowing it, taking me in, and making me wish he wasn’t hidden beneath my robe. I wanted to see his face, to experience his facial expressions as I lost it, to watch as he sucked me off better than I’ve ever had.

  Leia. Fuck. I just cheated again.

  What is he doing to me? He’s always messing with my heart. I close my eyes as turmoil brews inside me. After he puts my spent friend away, he rises and kisses me fiercely.

  Push him away, swear at him for fucking up your head. Punish him for making you want things you can’t have, my mind roars, barely containing anger and anxiety.

  Instead, I return his kiss with fervor, with the emotion I refuse to give him, with as much feeling as I’ve ever offered. It’s all I can give. It’s all I fucking have.

  And when we pull apart, I walk away without turning back around, without ever looking back.

  Knocking on the dorm room door, my heart beats frantically, bringing me back to the present. It makes the memory of graduation disappear. Now, I’m back, face-to-face with the door that holds the guy I can’t escape. He opens the door, his face skewed. The words are stuck in my mouth. The hello, or I’m sorry. But there’s nothing. Just a job and requirement for answers.

  “Brax?” Brady questions, not looking happy to see me.

  “Rush,” I sound out awkwardly.

  “What? No, hey, I’m sorry I let you suck my dick then abandoned you? Classic fucking Kol, unable to man the fuck up and admit he likes dick.”

  Wow. This is not how I pictured this going. Anger ebbs away at the amiability I usually offer people.

  “Fuck you, Rush. I didn’t ask you to get on your knees and suck me off. You wanted me. You had me, and now you’re being petty because I picked her.”

  Brady shoves my shoulders, his hands making a resounding smack as they connect with the flesh on either side of my head.

  “You would, wouldn’t you? Fuck me then throw me away, since you’re so fucking offended about having a dick be a part of the equation!” he roars, his face distorted with pain.

  With each second that passes, it digs in more and more that I was an asshole by walking away. Honestly, it didn’t occur to me that he’d care. It’s not like we were ever in love or anything.

  Right?

  “Brady,” I try to mitigate, brushing his arm softly, hoping he calms down some. Anyone could open the door to this room and see two men fighting, and they’d think we are lovers. That’s the last thing I need.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growls, baring his teeth like he’s in insurmountable pain.

  He backs off me, entwining his fingers behind his head. The force behind the move makes his hands white and red with splotches. He’s furious, and it’s my fault. He’s hurting. He hates me.

  “I’m sorry, man,” I attempt, but by then he’s turned toward me with unmasked fury.

  “Don’t.” He grips his head. “You can pretend all you want that you love pussy and that she’s everything to you, Kol. Hell, you can even fuck her day in and day out, but don’t you fucking dare come here—” he emphasizes the dorm room “—and pretend that you didn’t make me believe in us, make me want more from you, make me have feelings that were wasted on a man ashamed to be with another man. Don’t. Just fucking don’t, okay?”

  Unlike a woman, he doesn’t cry. He only heaves with each bated breath, like he’s about to fly his fist through a wall or into my face.

  “Brady—”

  “Just stop!” he roars, turning away from me. “Fuck you, Brax. Now, get the fuck out.” He drops his hands, defeat written in every feature of his stance.

  The anger of being pushed away has me stomping in his direction. Gripping the collar of his tee, I slam him against the door.

  “Listen here,” I ground out, my chest red and hot with fury. “I came here for a reason. No, not to fuck you, which you seem to be keen on having me do.” I grind into him, showing my obvious liking to his aggression. “I came here for them. My family. My brotherhood. The Vipers,” I hiss.

  I try to ignore the way he’s complacent beneath my touch. My cock rests against his, the heat between the two enough to erupt a fucking volcano.

  “What do they want?” he demands, narrowing his lust-filled eyes. I want to kiss him so damn bad, to experience what his anger tastes like. To feel what being hated tastes like through animalistic fucking. But I don’t. I’m taken. I’m solidified in that. And with Sy back, I can’t risk running off without her leaving me.

  “Answers.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kol.”

  “But you do, Rush.”

  “You gon’ let me go?” he complains, but we both know it’s because of his thick erection, not that he actually wants to be away from me.

  “Nope.” I pop the “P.”

  He shuts his eyes as if in pain and takes in a long and thorough breath. “What do you want? I have shit to do,” he says despondently, like he’s done playing this game.

  “I already said it. Answers. What the fuck are you doing involving yourself with swine like Los Desolados, huh?”

  “What are you talking about?” he questions, confusion swimming in his gaze.

  It hits me right then and there with his eyebrows furled and his mouth slightly agape, he has no fucking clue. Shit. What did Roa mean then?

  I let my hands
drop, wondering how to take back what I’ve undoubtedly given away. If he was any other person, I’d wonder if he was playing me, but it’s Brady. Golden-skinned, clean cut, choir boy Brady Rush.

  “Nothing,” I reply almost too harshly, placing my hands in my pockets, willing my raging dick to calm down and my adrenaline to do the same. As long as my hands are occupied, they can keep to themselves.

  Why did Roa say Brady? What do the two have that correlates to Los Desolados?

  “Brax,” he verbalizes, but he drops the hand he started to raise. “What’s going on?”

  If his voice wasn’t so sincere, it’d feel like an inquisition.

  As a new Viper, I can’t really say shit without getting heat from Venom and Deaftone, but I trust Brady.

  “When’s the last time you spoke to Roa?”

  His eyes widen a smidge, he must be recalling something. He runs a hand through his hair, and his jaw ticks. “Not since coming here. We got into a huge fight.” His response is full of shame. “Is he all right?” When his eyes meet mine, they’re worrisome and a little glassy.

  “Define ‘all right,’” I mutter, not meaning to sound bitter.

  He grips my chin then, his fingers digging into my skin, “Talk to me.”

  That trust from earlier dissipates. He could be playing me. We haven’t spoken since graduation, and a lot has changed since then.

  “I can’t. I’m held to a code now, Brady. I can’t just indulge secrets for people I care about.” I close my eyes at that last admission, not meaning to let it slip free. “Fuck, I just can’t talk about it.”

  “Why did you become a Viper, Brax? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Doesn’t it?” I mock, shaking free of his grasp. “I needed meaning in my life. They give me that. They give me a fucking family. They give me a reason to live. They give me what you can’t.”

  His eyes and mouth widen, shock and confusion settling over his features. It’s not a surprise this is where I turned. It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into. It was practically written out for me. This is exactly what I signed up for.

  “What happened to you?” he asks.

  “A lot. Got a decade for me to tell you? A pen and goddamn paper? I could write a fucking novel.” I walk around him, opening the door. “It seems my information was incorrect. You can’t help me. Forget about me, Rush. Move on. Be fucking happy.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he calls out after me. “You got the girl. I lost the guy.”

  I keep walking, wishing his words didn’t tumble me down like bowling pins on a strike.

  They should have an instruction manual on how to win back the girl you lost. I’m sure it doesn’t have anything listed like show up at her job or jerk off to memories of her. But I’m not giving up. Even if she told me it’s too late, I’ll have her. Somehow, I’ll have her.

  Heading down the stairs to her old house, the one I only share with Xo now, I feel nostalgia. Peering at the very bottom stair, where I found her topless that one night, my dick grows. It’s been too long since I’ve had her.

  Too long.

  I stop at the last stair, remembering throwing her against the wall, taking what was always mine to have, and her grinding into me, wanting me as much as I’ve always wanted her.

  “Sy?” Xo calls out.

  Dammit. I figured she’d be at Cynosure already. I’ve avoided her a lot. She knows I’m no longer willing to be her little savior.

  A spoon clinking in a cup lets me know she’ll be here a while, however that doesn’t mean I have to deal with her the entire time. I’m not ready to have this conversation with her any more than I am with Leia. I’m a fucking coward, but it won’t stop me. Not if I want to be with her.

  “Sí, mi flor,” I return, trying to hide the indignation from my tone.

  As much as I want to blame Xo for abandoning Danté and for her leaving Leia in harm’s way, I’m as much at fault. I knew what I signed up for and went with it for lust and dreams. If everything with Absinthe never happened, I may have stayed, but if not for me leaving, he wouldn’t have been saved, and Helen wouldn’t have been saved either.

  Helen. It’s been years since I got her out, since we got Sinthe out. She’s in hiding from Danté, from Los Desolados, but most of all from Sinthe himself. He doesn’t know we saved him. To the rest of the world, we didn’t. We were only in appropriation to his capture and torture. And fuck, the things Danté made us do… made her do.

  I shudder. It has more to do with flashbacks from my moments than his. Danté is a cruel motherfucker. The memory slams into me, reminding me why I have to walk away.

  Day eleven, but I think I’ve lost count.

  Drip, drip, drip. My blood splashes softly onto the concrete beneath the chair I’m strapped to. From what my eyes can hardly see, there’s dry blood, coagulated pools in several spots, looking almost like jelly. What has he done to me?

  My eyes are barely open, swollen and throbbing from the imprint of Danté’s fist, but the trickling and splatter of the blood connecting with the ground has me holding onto my consciousness. I have to get out and tell Xo about this, to warn Leia to stay away, to fix everything.

  In the distance, I hear keys rattling.

  He must be coming back.

  I attempt to move my limbs, but they ache in a way I’ve never experienced. They feel disconnected, severed somehow. Fuck, it hurts.

  Trying to angle my head more, I hear a slight pop and know it’s from the misuse of my body, and it only sends jolts of agony through me. As I moan, I wish I was strong enough to say I could tough it out, but the stress of being in this awkward position has rendered me useless.

  “Silas,” a soft voice whispers.

  Zaely? I try to move my neck without succession, and it lobs further down. Her tiny hand palms my cheek, shocking my system with warmth. It’s comforting and soft and unwelcome.

  Why is she here?

  “What the fuck are you doing?” his monstrous voice booms, scaring his little sister.

  She jumps, and I watch as her dainty legs shake unsurely.

  “N-nada, hermano,” she sputters over her broken response. She’s too scared. She’s too obvious.

  “Don’t you lie to me, Azalea.”

  She shudders. I wish I had the strength to help her and the power to slice his throat open, but in this moment, all that’s left of me is weakness.

  “I wanted to see him, Ozo. Silv wouldn’t tell me if he was okay.”

  “He’s not okay. He’s going to die for what he’s done.’

  “And what’s that? Love harder? Cherish more? Be a better man than you?” she screeches, her voice full of pain and hatred.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I do something I regret. You may be my half-sister, Zaely, but don’t fucking test me on this.”

  She stands her ground, her fists balled at her sides. Danté’s at least half a head taller than Zaely, a giant by all means, yet she keeps her spine straightened.

  “You’re just pissed because he won. Not just the love of the woman you abandoned, but your child too. When will you understand that you’re bad for them? Sy has been there this entire time while you fucked around on them. He did every damn thing you asked. He even helped hurt countless people, all in the name of Los Desolados, and look at where it’s got him! He doesn’t love Xo like he does Leia, but at least he protects them more than you do.”

  She marches up to him, grabbing his arms.

  “Can’t you just accept that he loves her? That she loves him? You won’t find another man to love Leia like he does. One who is as dedicated and perfect for her, even if all social norms forbid it.”

  He shakes his head fiercely, and I wish I could see his expression. It’s sure to be disconcerted and disgusted. It’s not like I tried to fall in love with a teenager. It just fucking happened.

  His booming voice sends shivers down my spine. “I’ll never accept his tainted and warped kind of love, and he’ll never see either
of them again.” Footsteps tap, backing away from me before another barked command is issued. “Silva! Get your fucking twin out of here before she leaves in pieces!”

  After the sounds of Zaely and Silv yelling at each other heatedly filters through the room, the loud doors slam open, rumbling against the wall. Heated door slamming is never good. Never fucking good.

  “Silva!” Danté roars, and I hear several feet pad against the floor.

  “Yeah?” he questions. His face isn’t one of certainty, but it’s as flat as he can make it, that’s for sure.

  “Get over here!” he orders.

  Silva follows after him. D comes face-to-face with me, and Silv stands by his side.

  “Kiss your boyfriend, Silv.”

  “He’s-He’s not my boyfriend,” he spits, almost as if the thought makes him sick. This isn’t unusual. It’s why Silv and I never were public about our relationship.

  “Yeah, let’s pretend you didn’t fuck my second along with your sister.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he defends, holding his head high.

  Oh, yeah. All fucking mighty, just like before. I know what D will make him do. It’s what he forced Zaely to do to me. It’s the most degrading thing he can do, and the fact that they go along with it will ruin me all over again. Except this time, I won’t come back. This time, I won’t forgive him.

  Whether at the behest of his brother or not, if Silv crosses this line like Zaely did six years ago, it’ll change everything. I’ve barely contained the first betrayal.

  “If you don’t do what I tell you, you’re done. No more coming back. No more being a part of Los Desolados. No more Esperanza.”

  The way Silva’s face falls has me near crippled with sadness. For years, this has been his only livelihood. For as long as I can remember, this is how he felt worthy.

  “Then I’m done,” Silv responds, his voice devoid of emotion. In three words, he’s thrown me off my axis. He’s chosen good and right and me. It doesn’t make sense. When he directs his attention to me, he gives me a look I don’t quite understand then turns and leaves.