Page 6 of Justyce
I bring the glass to my lips, feeling the energy rocket through my body and the beast banging on its cage. I gulp down the whiskey, greedily, hoping I won’t need to wait much longer until I sink my claws into her ivory skin.
I look to my brothers and ask, “When?”
Acheron’s face curls up at the sides and then he answers, “Tonight.”
Chapter Three – Kenzi
I jog up the stairs to my Inwood apartment after a long dismal day at the office, feeling like I need the exercise to clear my mind rather than use the lift. Journalism along with dancing are two of my passions, so working for a magazine company should see me with a smile constantly on my face, right? Except now it feels as if I don’t even know who I am anymore, like a piece of me has withered away and died.
Shaking myself from my pity party, I reach into my pocket for my phone. One message notification flashes on the top of the screen and all I can hope for is that it isn’t James.
James and I have been together for three years but it feels like an eternity. When I was offered the sex talk column from Sin For Me magazine, I agreed wholeheartedly, much to James’s dismay. He acted like a little bitch for the first six months of my contract, which further drove a wedge between us.
I swear I feel like he’s constantly choking me with a leash wrapped around his hand, strangling me, and I can feel myself suffocating from hislove. I know I should end it instead of whining about it, but I don’t have the energy for the backlash. And I despise a man who grovels and that’s exactly what James would do. Come to think about it, all the men I’ve been with over the years have all bored me to fucking death. I think that says a lot about me more than them.
Looking down at my phone I open the message and release a sigh of relief when I see Bianca’s name instead of James. An ache settles around my heart at the thought of my best friend, who’s been my one constant for over half my life. Kind of sad at twenty seven I can only name one person who hasn’t given up on me or used me for their own personal gain.
My stomach curdles when my thoughts travel to Dana Point, my old hometown. I left eleven years ago and I haven’t been back since. It’s better this way, not just for me, but for anyone I care about. I don’t have a death wish so returning there isn’t on my to do list. Even with times like these where I would love to sit down with Bianca in our pj’s and watch a scary movie and compare notes with how fucked up our lives are.
Tears prick behind my eyes, I miss Bianca so fucking much. I reach the top of the staircase and walk toward my apartment, anticipating a nice glass of red while I work on my BDSM sex talk task that’s due in by the end of the week.
I feel the flush travel up my torso to my neck and suddenly I feelhot. For some reason BDSM has always interested me, not that I’d ever voice that to James. He’s so… so vanilla that it’s painful.
Palming my keys, I stick the front door one in the lock, turn the handle and enter. I’m thankful that I haven’t allowed James to move in. He’s been badgering me for two and half years; however, my answer is always no. This is my sanctuary − my slice of heaven away from the manic world and the people who occupy it.
Walking down the hallway that’s been a part of my home for the last five years, with its bright white walls cream colored tiles, I head into the kitchen and dump my phone, bag and keys on the bench then walk toward my bedroom. My skirt is too tight and I feel like my blouse and pantyhose are restricting my every move. I just need to feel like I can breathe.
Except I haven’t been able to breathe for eleven years. Graphite eyes form in my mind and heat nestles in my core. I hate the way my traitorous body responds to the thought of him after so long.
Reaching down I pull off my heels and throw them to the corner of the room and make my way to the bathroom. I’m not sure if it’s the thought ofhimor the BDSM column that has me coiled so tight, but for my peace of mind I’m going with the latter.
Tugging off my blouse and ripping down my stockings and skirt, I stand looking at my reflection in the mirror, feeling sexy in the plum purple matching bra and panty set.
Slowly my hand travels south, coasting over my toned belly before I slide my fingers inside the panties. I can’t remember the last time I was fucked, actually left wanton and spent. Images of dirty blonde hair and graphite colored eyes assault my senses and I whimper. Shaking him from my thoughts, I attempt to deviate my ruminations from that ghost of my past, but I can’t get rid of him no matter how hard I try. Even after everything I saw him do, with every little poisonous threat he spat out when he spoke, my mind gravitates to the man I wish I could forget.Dance for me.I shudder, his voice bouncing through my mind. That was the last thing he said to me before he made me leave Dana Point. I left a piece of my dignity and sanity in that cemetery that night, along with him. And it took me a long time to try and unsee what I did. I’m only glad it was dark and it muted and obscured my sight.
Pushing the uninvited images from my mind, I dip my fingers between my folds knowing I’ll find myself wet. I always do when I think of him. How can I yearn for him and loathe him in the same moment?Because he’s an evil son of bitch, Kenzi, and you’re seriously fucked up, that’s why.
I silence my inner voice with a scowl and push a finger inside of me. I shudder, finding myself completely drenched. In and out I pump my finger before bringing it up to circle my wetness around my clit. My breath comes in harsh gasps thinking of his teeth embedded in my shoulder and his deft fingers probing my sex. My nipples are pebbled and ache behind my bra, begging to be touched. I bring my finger and thumb together and squeeze roughly. His name leaves my mouth on a gasp while I work my fingers into a frenzy, chasing that forbidden high.
I’m seconds away from climaxing when the doorbell rings, chasing my orgasm away. “Fuck,” I growl.Who the hell could that be?
Reaching behind the back of the door, I grab my long, silk dressing gown before storming angrily toward the door hoping the interruption is worth it.
Without even looking through the peephole, I open the door and I’m met with pale blue eyes. James. Red hot heat settles in my belly. It’s not only from the dead orgasm but the fact that my boyfriend showed up unannounced − again.
“Hey baby,” he coos.
My hip relaxes on the door frame with my resting bitch face in place because I’m too annoyed to answer him.
James’s eyes travel down, settling on my breasts. I look down to find my dressing gown gaping at the center. Rolling my eyes internally I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs profusely.
He gulps loudly. “Can I come in?”
My brow creases but I move to the side and allow him inside, reluctantly. He saunters in like he owns the place and heads straight for the fridge to grab a beer. It’s his MO every time he visits. James is so predictable, it’s nauseating.
It’s not that James isn’t attractive, because let’s face it he is. It’s just he’s… just too tame. His shaggy brown hair is a disheveled mess and falls over his blue eyes when he leans on the breakfast bar to look at me, beer in hand. Predictable.
His eyes are hungry, roaming over every inch of my body. I should feel something, anything at his eye-fucking. Sadly I don’t.
