Page 14 of Back to You
I rubbed him through his pants, loving the sound he made when I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of his shorts. Pushing him to his back, I climbed between his legs and drew his cock from his pants, and fuck me… I wasn’t really a connoisseur of dicks, but his wasperfect. Literal perfection.
Feeling bold, I kissed the tip of him, tasting him on my lips. My own cock was hard as a spike.
“Hollister.” Dane’s voice was strangled. His eyes were bright and his lips parted on a panted breath. I knew what he wanted. We both wanted it, and I’d be damned if I wasted my chance to blow him. I’d only been dreaming about it since we skinny-dipped together the year we turned sixteen.
I had no clue what I was doing, but I watched porn. Couldn’t be too hard to figure out, right? Luckily for us, we were both too keyed up to last, and after a couple of blissful minutes with Dane’s perfect dick in my mouth, I got a face-full of spunk. Didn’t matter. Dane’s moans were worth the mess, plus I’d never shot so hard in my life.
Spent and sleepy, we cleaned up and climbed into my bed. Dane immediately plastered himself against me. My heart pattered quick in my chest. This was real. I wrapped my arm around his waist to draw him closer, then tugged the blankets up over us both.
I was woken up by the knocking on my skull. My head was killing me.Knock-knock-knock.
Dane sat up in bed. “Did you hear that?”
Maybe it wasn’t my head that was making all that noise. I glanced to the clock on the bedside table. The blue LED numbers read 5:22 AM. I frowned. Who in their right minds would knock on the door at half-past five in the morning?
The knocking stopped. I looked at Dane and he looked at me, confusion knitting his brows together. A heavy silence spread between us, until the sound of Mrs. Fisher sobbing pierced that quiet like a spear.
Dane’s face went white as a sheet. “Mom!” He scrambled out of bed and flung the door open, his footsteps thundering down the stairs. Shaking the cobwebs out of my head, I stumbled after him.
I didn’t get far.
I reached the top rail and looked down. Mrs. Fisher was crumpled on the floor, crying into her hands. Two officers stood in the entry hall with somber expressions on their faces.
Dane rushed to her side. “Mom? What happened? Mom?”
“Violet…”
“What happened to Violet? Is she okay?”
“I’m sorry, son,” the dark-haired officer said. “There’s been an accident. Your sister is dead.”
Dane went stiff as a board. “Wh-What? No she’s not. This is a joke, right?” He glanced wildly between the two policemen, then to his mother. “Right? Mom?” Shock settled over me, quiet and numbing. Violet was dead?
Dane dropped to his knees on a wail that punched a hole through my heart, and the raw agony in his voice was the bullet.
Time came to a screeching halt, tires skidding on wet pavement. I was hydroplaning on the inside and suddenly, nothing made sense. Violet was dead, and the grief in Dane’s cries shook me to the bone.No.
No, no, no, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Mrs. Fisher threw her arms around her son—her only remaining child—and they both began to sob.
I don’t belong here.
The realization hit me hard. I wasn’t family, no matter what they said. Panic climbed me like an angry circus monkey and yanked on my hair. I didn’t belong here. I couldn’tdothis. Not again.Not again, not again, not again.
Sick to my stomach, I staggered back to the bedroom. I haphazardly tossed clean clothes into the bag I’d taken with me to Lake Michigan. My hands shook. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get away. I couldn’t handle the sheer emotion pouring through me, unchecked and wild.
So while Dane and his mom mourned the sudden, tragic death of Violet Fisher, I escaped out the back door. I got in my mom’s old VW with tears dripping down my cheeks, and I drove—and I didn’t look back.
