Page 58 of Revenge At Raleigh High
I fucking love foreplay. I love it more than the actual sex most of the time, but we are so beyond any of that now.
I grit my teeth as I push myself inside her, supplying what she needs. She’s so tight around me, hotter and wetter than she’s ever been. I don’t stop thrusting myself into her until I’m balls-deep, and even then she grinds up, rolling her hips, asking me for more. Falling on her, I rock myself forward, hissing when she reaches up and grabs hold of my hair, pulling hard.
“Harder, Alex. Please. Harder!”
I oblige her, since she’s begging so nicely.
Her nails drive deep into my back, making me curse loudly, and my mind goes blank. I’m no longer aware of what drives me, but I answer its call anyway, driving myself into her over again over again, so hard that I can feel her body rock with each impact.
I love this girl. I love her more than I can comprehend, which is why I bite her when she pleads for me to sink my teeth into her skin. I close my hand around her throat when she pulls on my hands. I do whatever she urges me to, regardless of the fact that it’s too much. Too rough. Too wild. Too raw, and crazy.
When she comes beneath me, frenzied, slick with our sweat, I don’t care that I’ve broken her skin with my love, and again I’ve made her bleed. It doesn’t matter, because Silver Parisi is slack and dazed from her pleasure and my body is numb from my own.
It’s not until we’re dressed and leaving the basement of the club that we both notice Jacob Weaving leaning against the wall by the exit, wearing an ugly sneer on his face.
23
SILVER
Thanksgiving comes and goes. Dad invites Alex to stay again for the first time since the storm, and I try and pretend not to notice the fact that Max and Mom aren’t here. As a family, we have so many dorky holiday traditions that are all pointless without Mom and Max. My mother would never have allowed Alex to sleep in the house, even in the guest room, and my brother was a perfect little monster the last time I saw him, though, so I make the best of the situation.
Jackie refuses to let Alex see Ben before they take off for Hawaii. He doesn’t mention it, but I know it plays on his mind as the three of us rattle around the big old house, concocting a surprisingly edible thanksgiving dinner between us. Dad cracks truly horrible jokes that make us groan. Nipper gorges himself on turkey, and even lets us pet his distended tummy while he digests his Thanksgiving dinner. He falls asleep on Alex at seven thirty promptly each night.
In the mornings that follow, Dad and Alex do something really strange. They start running together. Even weirder, they spend an hour after their run locked in the garage together, hitting a punching bag Dad hasn’t used since…well, never. This gives me plenty of time to write music and get ahead on all of my school work, but I don’t get to hang out with Alex until the afternoon, when he’s finally changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes and showered.
When I first met Alex, I was naturally very worried about how my father was going to take a heavily tattooed, motorcycle-riding bad boy invading my life and claiming every waking moment of my day. Turns out, I should have been more worried about DadstealingAlex from me. They even seem to have their own secrets and private jokes, all be them heavy disguised as underhanded digs.
The Wednesday after Thanksgiving, Alex surprises me by sneaking into the shower in my en suite…while I’m in it. He fucks me hard up against the tiles, his hand firm and demanding, mouth hot and wet against my skin, and when he comes, he roars so loud that Dad slam’s the front door and leaves the house.
Reluctantly, Alex says he has to go back to the trailer after that. He has shifts at the Rock he needs to show up for, and there are other mysterious things he has to take care of over the next couple of days that are going to monopolize most of his time. He won’t tell me what he’s up to, but he seems excited. Energized. It feels like the world’s ending when I kiss him on the doorstep of the house, sulking because I won’t be able to see him again for three more days.
He laughs at my pouting mouth and over-the-top complaining, but he’s the one who struggles to let go of my hand as he walks away down the driveway.
Dad does me a solid and doesn’t mention the fact that hedefinitelyheard us having sex when he comes home. He doesn’t mention anything about the fact that Alex is gone either. Two days later, on Friday evening, he stands in my bedroom doorway with a heavy-looking black bag in his hand, face a little grim.
“Gotta go out for a bit, kiddo,” he says, leaning against the door jamb. “I ordered in some Chinese food for you. Extra Orange Chicken. Should be here in about half an hour. I’m not gonna be back ’til late, probably. No need to wait up for me.”
I stick a piece of paper inside the book I was reading, marking my place, and then I set it down, eyeing him suspiciously. Black jeans. Black t-shirt. Black jacket. “God, Dad,” I groan. “Pleasetell me you’re not gonna start dressing like Alex now. It’s great you guys are bonding and all, but this is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?”
Dad’s eyes widen, his head tipping to one side. “I can’t believe my own child would be sohurtful,” he says theatrically. “The very last thing I’d ever do is mimic your brooding, grumpy boyfriend. Black is a classic look, Silver. You can never go wrong with black. Especially if there are clandestine meetings afoot.”
“No! Dad! Are you going on adate?”
“No, no.Godno. Never mind. I probably shouldn’t have said that. I have to get going or I’m gonna be late. Don’t forget to listen out for the doorbell, okay?”
“Dad?”
He was turning to leave, throwing his words over his shoulder at me as he walked back out onto the landing, but the second I say his name, he stops. “Mmm?”
“What’s with the bag?”
“Huh?”
“The bag. The black one you’re holding in your hand. What’s in it?”
Dad falters, looking down at the offending article that he indeedisstill holding in his hand. “Uhhh, just…books! Just some old architectural books I’m returning to a friend.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you lying to me, Father?”
