Page 2 of Wicked Spite
So fucking stupid when so much is on the line. Reese flashes in my mind. My little sister, seventeen and blissfully unaware of the monster lurking in our father. He’ll sell her soul for a dime and power. Not while I’m breathing. She’s the one pure thing left in my life, and I’ll be damned if I let history repeat itself.
I gotta get my ass out of here.
Every step of boots is fueled by the need to shield my sister from the darkness that’s already stained my own hands. The pain the hard leather gives me keeps me focused but fuck I wish I had sneakers on. I dodge a stray cat as it scampers across my path; it hisses as if I’ve just annoyed the ever-loving shit out of it.
“Fuck you too, kitty,” I snarl, but there’s no heat in it. I’m too wired, every sense dialed up to eleven.
I’m so close to getting my sister free. I’ll burn down the world before I let him touch her. I’ve danced with devils before—I’m not afraid to do it again.
I can almost laugh at the twisted irony. Me, Reagan St. Pierre, the girl who makes a mockery of rules, now playing guardian angel. If that’s not fucked up, I don’t know what is. But maybe that’s just it; we’re all a little messed up, trying to find a scrap of redemption in the chaos.
I push my long legs to go harder, faster, until the burn in my thighs feels like sweet punishment. There’s a sick part of me that craves the pain, the rush. But the stakes are too high, and I’m not looking to cash out early.
My lungs are heaving, each breath a ragged tear through the air. I’ve been running for a few blocks, but it’s not just the cold biting at my heels—it’s the prickle of a thousand eyes, the sense that they are tracking my every move. It’s like I can feel their gaze, heavy and unrelenting against my skin. It makes me itch, my flesh feeling too tight.
The neon lights of the bar strip flicker in the distance, slicing through the alley’s darkness. The thumping bass beckons from one of the brick buildings calls me. Two more steps and I’m there, my combat boots slipping on something slick—don’t think about what that might be—as I bulldoze into the throng of sweaty bodies.
“Move!” I growl, not caring who I elbow aside as I shove my way through the crowd. Hands and bodies brush and grope, but I keep my switchblade tucked away—for now. No need to start a brawl when I’m this close to blending in.
“Excuse you,” some guy slurs, his beer-sloshed breath hot on my neck.
“Fuck off,” I snap back without missing a beat, ducking under his clumsy attempt to grab my arm. I don’t have time for this kind of bullshit tonight.
I lose myself in the mass of gyrating bodies, letting the heavy scent of sweat and spilled alcohol fill my nostrils. It’s disgusting,really, but it’s cover. And right now, I’ll take whatever I can get. With each step further into the belly of the beast, I feel my pulse begin to level out. Just have to keep moving, keep hidden.
“Hey, watch it!” A girl stumbles backward into me, her drink splashing across the both of us.
“Sorry,” I lie, not giving a damn about her stained shirt as I sidestep and push onward. This place is a pit—a perfect pit to get lost in.
“Reagan?” someone calls out, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Whoever it is, they can find me later. I purposely chose “Bleachers” to slip into instead of “Whiskey’s Place”, two doors down. Even if they follow me in here, it’s just another barrier for them to come back and find me again. I have no connection to this place except the proximity to my job.
The layout is similar on all of these buildings, so it’s easy to find a back entrance to an employee’s only area.
I slip into the room; the door creaking behind me. The air is stale, tinged with the smell of cleaning chemicals and something musky and raw.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, catching my breath, before I realize I’m not alone.
My eyes adjust to the low light, and there they are—a guy and a girl, wrapped up in each other. They’re fucking hard against the stacked boxes of liquor, oblivious to my intrusion. Every thrust, every moan, echoes off the concrete walls, filling the tight space with their wet, sloppy sounds.
I should turn around. Should leave. But I don’t. I’m already on edge, adrenaline still pumping from the alley. Watching them, I feel the pulse between my legs again, a reminder of how horny I am.
I feel my lips curl into a smirk. My gaze locks onto them,taking in every detail—the way his muscles ripple under his sweat-slicked skin, the arch of her back as she clings to him. They’re both pretty, easy on the eyes and he’s obviously got a good dick because those moans of hers aren’t fake.
“Hey,” the guy grunts, pausing mid-thrust. His eyes meet mine, dark and intense.
His girl peers over his shoulder, drinking me up from the tips of my boots, up my ripped fishnets, shorts, and the flannel tied right up underneath my tits. “You wanna join?”
“Not this time, babygirl,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm and desire. “But I’m gonna watch. So put on one helluva show like a good girl.”
The girl giggles, a sultry sound that sends shivers down my spine. “Your loss,” she purrs, but there’s no real disappointment in her tone. She knows she’s got an audience now, and that’s enough.
They resume, even more fervent, and I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. The heat in the room rises, mingling with the scent of sex and sweat. This is my favorite way to kill time.
“Fuck, yes,” the guy growls, his voice guttural and raw as he thrusts harder into the girl beneath him. Her moans rise in pitch, echoing through the small room like a siren call. I move a little bit further into the room and lean against the wall, crossing my arms tighter across my chest, eyes fixed on their bodies. Perfect position to watch both of their faces and to watch his cock slip in and out of her tight little cunt.
The girl’s nails dig into his back, leaving angry red trails that catch the dim light. She arches her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, her whimpers becoming more desperate with each movement.
“That’s it, don’t hold back,” I tell them, feeling the tension between my legs intensify. They both get off on my words.
