Page 9 of Rudimentary Distortion
I abandon Lars’ throat, and he sucks in a breath. “Don’t forget, baby boy. I control it all, even every breath you take.”
I lick his lips, collecting the cum before probing his mouth with my tongue. Lars opens for me, kissing me back, swapping his cum back and forth. I pull back and spit into his mouth. “Swallow, baby boy.”
Lars does as he’s told, pushing me off the ledge into paradise. I pull out and move to the bed, using his face as target practice, covering it with cum.
I wrap my arms around him and kiss the top of his head. “Feel better?”
“Yes, man. Thanks,” he whispers as he attempts to get off the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get all this jizz off my face.”
I grab him by the waist and pull him toward me. “I wasn’t kidding. You’re sleeping with that on your face. Maybe you’ll think twice before putting my business on blast next time.”
Lars nods and drops back to my side as the orgy outside the door lulls us to sleep.
5
Billie
The last time I slept so badly was when Lars and Cain ended things, leaving me devastated. My heart was broken, and I was convinced my life had ended for a while. I desperately tried to forget them, and some of my choices afterward weren’t the best, like the mile-long list of despicable men I went through. I never expected I’d see them again. Assumed they were a painful memory I’d put behind me. But in truth, all I did was put a Band-Aid over a wound that needed stitches.
I fantasized about seeing them again and making them suffer. Having them on their knees, regretting throwing me away like trash. But fantasies are nothing like reality. I deluded myself that I was over them, that they didn’t matter. Apparently, I’m an idiot because the moment Lars revealed who they were, my entire world came barreling down around me. Suddenly, all my dreams of vengeance vanished, and I wanted to throw my arms around the only two men I ever truly loved.
Today’s a new day, and that pathetic girl from last night is long gone. I’m Billie Richmond, a music journalist. The girl who’s interviewed legends like The Rolling Stones. She’s traveled the world. This girl’s had many relationships. She’sgrown into an amazingly strong person. She’s no longer the scared eighteen-year-old with an angry, pill-popping mom.
I take one last look in the mirror. Ripped black jeans, a Dead Kennedy T-shirt, and a long hot pink cardigan that falls to my ankles. Kaye told me to head to the presidential suite. I was hesitant to go into any suite that held Cain and Lars, but she mentioned all the guys would be there, and she would also join us.
My hands shake as I press the button to take me to the penthouse. The need to run is still aggressive as I tap my foot to an imaginary tune. It was much easier when Lars and Cain were nothing but a distant memory locked away in a forgotten part of my mind. Now, I can’t deny their importance in my life or the mark they left behind when we parted.
The elevator doors fling open, and my heart beats erratically. It’s like a noose circles my throat—at any moment, it could tighten and snap my neck. The sense of doom hovering over me grows with every step toward the large doors at the end of the hall. But I can’t run. The days of running away from pain are long behind me. I’m a fighter now, and there’s no way I’m letting anyone scare me off.
The frigid metal from the door handle is a reminder of the tundra I’m about to walk into.
“There you are, Miss Richmond,” Kaye says as she rushes toward me. “The guys are a little rough today. Striker and Mayhem overdid it last night.”
I peek over her shoulder at Cain, who has his feet on the coffee table while he puffs at a joint. Then I see Lars as he picks his way around a large table overflowing with food. My heart surges to see him eating, something he rarely did growing up. His mother was too busy using their grocery money to feed her habit instead of her starving son. I remember the first time hetalked to me, Trevor’s moody friend, who looked like he’d been dragged to the Nar-Anon meetings.
“Mary makes a mean lasagna,” I whispered to Trevor’s friend.
I usually paid close attention to what everyone said at the meeting, but I was distracted by this guy’s cat-like honey eyes tonight. I’d never seen eyes like it. They were almost supernatural. He was paying attention to every word of those who spoke today. It reminded me of the first time I’d come here. After two years of living with my personal nightmare, I stopped feeling so alone.
“Yeah, it tastes good. If Mary always brings this to the meetings, y’all will see me here every damn week.”
“You think this is good? Wait until you taste her roasted chicken.” I lifted my fingers to my lips and kissed them. “Chef’s kiss.”
He smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. A smile with a side of sorrow. “My mom made a mean roasted chicken before”—he shrugged—“you know.”
I nodded. “My mom never made roasted chicken or anything. But she used to be here.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’d give anything to have my mother back. I’m not even sure who this lady is that I live with. She’s out of it or going somewhere to get something to be out of it.”
“How’d she get hooked?” I asked and instantly regretted it. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It’s okay. My dad and her got into a car accident six years ago. He died, and she had some complications. The doctors gave her some pain meds, and that was the beginning of the end. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m even here. My mom’s gonna die, and then it’ll all be over.”
The way he spoke about his mother’s eventual death took me aback. It broke my heart how cavalier he’d seemed about it.Sure, he wasn’t a kid anymore. I assumed he was eighteen, like Trev and me, but it was still his mom. I couldn’t help thinking how bad off his mom must be for him to assume she was near the end. I hoped when her time came, it wouldn’t be him who found her body.