Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
So here I am, living in one of their houses that I share with a housekeeper and a couple of bodyguards, going to the Bardstown community college where their theater department has one teacher and probably five students who double and triple and quadruple as writers, prop managers, costume designers, and set designers.
My biji was really mad when she’d heard about it. She didn’t want my mom to send me away like that, make it even harder for me to pursue my dreams, but I promised her I wouldn’t give up. I wouldn’t let lack of funding or enthusiasm or resources or the fact that I’m not even officially registered to be in one of their classes deter me from my path. That’s why ever since I started my freshman year, I’ve been trying to rally about funding, organizing bake sales and whatnot to gather funds. And we’re so close. We may get to put on a show soon.
But again, he doesn’t get to know any of that.
“So how come,” he murmurs, “you’re going to let me do it?”
I frown. “Do what?”
“Kiss you.”
Once again, it feels like I’ve slammed against a wall. And I’ve slammed so hard that not only are my breaths knocked out, but this time, there’s going to be a bruise on my body.
Purple and pulsating.
Painful.
As painful as this ache in my chest.
This longing.
“What?”
His eyes drop down to my parted mouth. “You will, won’t you?”
I lick my lips and his eyes flare slightly. “I… No.”
“How about I sweeten the pot?”
“No.”
“And go further?” he goes on.
I wince. “I… Look, I don’t know what—”
“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“I don’t think—”
“How about when I’m kissing you, I slip my hand under that flimsy dress of yours and touch your tits?”
And God, I know I’m the one who said it to him first, but in his voice, on his tongue, these words take on another meaning altogether. They were dirty before, but now they sound obscene. They sound so erotic and filthy that I can’t help but feel all shy and innocent.
I shake my head. “I-I… Please stop…”
“And I bet you’re not wearing a bra tonight either, are you?”
“I’m not telling you that,” I say, finally able to complete a sentence instead of stumbling.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, “it’s not that hard to figure out.”
“You—”
“So then,” he begins, leaning closer, “it’ll be real easy, isn’t it? All I’ll have to do to get to your cherry tits is hook a finger in the middle of that ridiculous dress you have on and give it a tug. Not a hard tug, mind you, because I don’t think your dress can handle that. I don’t think your fragile little flowery dress can handle my big, rough fingers without crumpling like tissue paper, can it?”
His eyes go down to my dress, to my heaving tits. And I, before I can think it through, cover them with my arms. I even pull his coat closed for good measure.
His lips twitch.
Keeping his chin dipped, he lifts his eyes. “Do you think that’ll save you?”
“I—”
“Hiding them from my view like that.”
“I don’t think you should—”
He leans in even further. “Because let me tell you, it’ll only make things worse.”
My heart jumps. “H-how?”
“Because then I’ll have to make you show them to me. I’ll have to force your arms away and pin them behind your back and fucking make you show me your cherry tits. And I’m sure you won’t like that. I’m sure you’ll struggle. And in all of your struggling and my subduing, your dress will be the one to suffer. Your useless but pretty dress may get ripped down the middle, not only spilling your tits out but also leaving other parts of your honey-dipped body bare. And that’s not what we’re trying to do here, is it? I’m not trying to strip you fucking naked. I’m just trying to get to your tits.” His eyes are glinting right now, wisps of smoke wafting from his mouth. “I’m just trying to suck on them. Lick them, bite them, leave my teeth marks. Be your new daddy. So what do you say, Dora, my mouth, your tits, let’s make fire and melt this goddamn snow.”
God.
God, my chest is heaving. My tits are feeling heavy and swollen and so achy.
“C-can you stop repeating everything I said to you,” I say breathily, “that night? I don’t think it’s very appropriate. I’m with your—”
“Twin brother,” he finishes for me. “I know. So again, what the fuck are you doing here, writhing in ecstasy and going to pieces, just because I said I’ll kiss you and suck your tits. Because let me tell you something. I’m an asshole in disguise. I’m a fucking thug. And if you keep looking for trouble, I am what you will find. And if you do find me, I’ll keep you, you understand? Not forever, no. Because you’re still an annoying little girl, but until I teach you what it means when you tempt a man like me to be your daddy. I’ll make you forget every fucking thing you think you know about it and teach you a new definition of the word that you’ll remember for the rest of your fucking life. And then I’ll send you back to my brother as my sloppy seconds. So next time,” he goes on, his eyes shiny and dark, “you want to look for me after dancing in my twin’s arms, next time you get the urge to flit from one brother to another, remember that. Remember that I don’t play games. Now one more time: run along and find my brother and leave me the fuck alone.”