The Wicked

I wake from my nap around 5, putter around my apartment for hours, and then finally throw myself into the shower to try to get my mojo back.

I feel sad.

After scrubbing myself from head to toe in expensive body sugar bullshit Katie left behind, I wrap myself in a towel and walk to the kitchen for some dinner.

The sun sets in the background outside the balcony doors while I cut up chicken and vegetables, then make a stir fry. My stomach rumbles as I load it all onto a plate and carry it to the living room. I haven’t eaten all day, having been a nauseous, angsty mess this morning, and then wasting the rest of my day sleeping and doing absolutely nothing.

I don’t bother turning on the TV, instead I just stare mindlessly at the blank screen while I shovel food into my mouth. My mind is busy – too fucking busy for my liking. Flashes of my father lying in a hospital bed, unconscious with tubes and wires coming from him run through my mind uncontrollably. They graduate into images of him dead, his funeral, my mother being a widow, the pain that comes along with losing your loved one.

When my plate is empty, and my eyes are watering, I clear my throat and stand up. I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to picture my father’s lifeless body before me and somehow try to comprehend how I’m going to handle it. I don’t want to miss him, and I don’t want my mom to be alone.

They’re a pair; they go together. And I’m afraid that losing him will be the loss of her as well, that it’ll be the end of the normalcy I’ve grown to rely on – having parents.

I go to the kitchen, toss my plate in the sink, and picture me as a little girl – so fucking alone. Abandoned. Parentless. I don’t want to go back to that. I want them to live forever with me, for it to be the three of us until the end of time.

I can’t lose them.

I can’t.

My phone goes off in my bedroom, pulling me from my subconscious with a start.

“Jesus,” I whisper to myself as I walk through the apartment and grab my phone from my nightstand. “Pull it together, P.”

A tingle runs through me at the unsaved number hovering on my screen, knowing who it is without even looking at the message.

Yes. This is what I need.

I open the message and read it out loud to myself. “Meet me at Amethyst tonight.”

My thumb brushes over the keypad without thought, knowing what I need isn’t to be alone in a room full of people. I need release and to be the center of his fucking attention.

ME:

Your place instead?

I watch the message go, and when it says delivered, I rush for my closet. I grab a matching set of black lingerie, then throw a pair of jeans and tank top over it, not wanting to look too prepared. I’m going for casual-slutty, my favorite vibe.

When my phone gets another text, I grab it and click on the message.

UNSAVED NUMBER:

657 Royal Oaks Blvd. Meet me in 20.

I recognize the street, as it’s in one of the wealthy communities further inland. I had friends who lived there growing up.

Rushing to the bathroom, I quickly apply some makeup, and then put my hair into a messy bun that doesn’t look intentional, but definitely is, then I run out to the living room.

I throw my phone into my purse, toss it over my shoulder, then grab my keys before turning off all the lights in my apartment and rushing out the door.

It takes me eight minutes to get across town and pull into Hayden’s neighborhood, but who’s counting?

His house is another three minutes into the complex. Right at the end of the street sits a big gate that’s already open, so I pull right into the long driveway. The lawn is freshly cut and perfectly green, like someone spends a lot of time out here taking care of it, and right at the end of the winding drive sits a massive glass and black mansion that makes my jaw drop.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath as I stop behind a shiny black Maserati that’s parked just outside the front door. He must have motion cameras, because the second my car stops moving, the light on the porch turns on, and I see him on the other side of the glass door.

“Alright, you’re fine,” I say to myself as I gather my cigarettes and lighter and toss them into my purse. “He’s just going to fuck you until you aren’t sad, and then you can go home. Totally normal, you’re a grown woman.”

I laugh at myself a little as I step out of the car, and when I head for the front door, our eyes connect through the glass.

My stomach does a flip, but I push myself to walk up the small staircase to meet him. He opens the door as I reach it, the smell of him instantly filling my nostrils and making my body clench. God, he smells good. Like something sinful and wicked.

“Penelope,” he greets me, stepping outside and holding the door open for me.

I raise my brow playfully, my mouth curling into a smile all on its own. “Hayden.”

He’s dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his feet bare and a hat on his head backwards, making my lady parts tingle in a way only a backwards hat can.

The house opens up once you walk through the foyer into a big space with black and glass beams placed methodically all around. His décor is light, like he paid someone to do it and never thought about it again. Everything is in different shades of white, black, and silver, making the space seem extremely fucking elegant.

“Your house is insane.” I continue to walk through until I’m standing at the foot of a staircase. Turning to face him, I’m happy to find that he’s only about two feet behind me.

“That it is,” he agrees, stepping into my space. “Can I get you something to drink?”

I drop my purse onto the bottom stair. “No, I’m fine.”

He puts his hands on my waist. “Eat?”

I shake my head, feeling my chest burning with need as I kick off my shoes.

“Smoke?” he asks, laughing as he pulls my body into his.

“You’re being such a gentleman,” I muse, my chest brushing his as I lean forward and kiss down his neck. “It doesn’t suit you.”

He chuckles, his chest vibrating with the sound as he puts his hands underneath my ass and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist. I feel his cock press into my center, and I moan, my hips grinding against it.

“You don’t want me to be polite when you come to my house?” he asks, taking the stairs slowly upwards.

“No,” I say, kissing his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth. “I just want you to fuck me until I don’t feel anything else.”

His chest vibrates again when he groans, and my stomach flutters in response.

Carrying me the rest of the way up the staircase and down a long hallway, he pushes through the last door on the right. His bedroom is the same as the rest of the house, black and white and clean. There aren’t any personal touches to it, save for the phone charger hanging by the bed and a few pairs of shoes scattered by the closet.

He drops me down on the edge of the bed, my legs falling from around his waist, and he takes a step back to look at me. His dark eyes burn as they trace my body, making me shift in place like he’s examining me.

Silence washes over us as we stare at each other, and then he stalks toward me. Reaching for the hem of my shirt, he peels it over my head and tosses it to the floor. I moan as he kisses down my chest and in between my breasts, then over the lace fabric of my bra. As he presses more kisses down my stomach, he pops the button on my jeans and then pulls the zipper down.

“Lift up,” he says, and I flex my hips so they rise from the bed and he can pull my jeans over my ass. Dropping to his knees before me, he peels my pants from each leg slowly while keeping his gaze glued to mine.

When he’s thrown my jeans over his shoulder, leaving me in only the lingerie I put on earlier, he scans my body again.

“You pick this for me?” he asks, his head tipping toward my underwear with appreciation.

I bite onto my bottom lip. “Mmhm.”

He leans forward, kissing my chest again. “I like it.”

Moaning, I drop back onto my elbows and watch as he licks a line down the center of my body, moving back up before he reaches the seam of my thong. He crawls over me, using his knee to push my legs farther apart so he can fit between them.

Holding himself up on his elbows, he hovers over me and grinds his pelvis against mine, making me moan in the back of my throat. My hands find his back instinctively, and I dig my nails into his skin.

He looks down at me, his eyes burning with desire that radiates all around us, and rolls his hips again so the thickness underneath his jeans rubs against my clit.

“Fuck me,” I breathe, digging my nails deeper.

Whatever resolve he’s holding on to snaps, and his lips come down on mine painfully. I cry out, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth while he uses one hand to reach between us and undo his pants. I feel like my skin is on fire. Desperation for him to be inside me takes over, and I mirror his movement, reaching into his pants and gripping his cock.

Hayden wiggles his hips enough to get them to fall under his ass, and I pump my fist along his length a few times while he guides his fingers under the lace of my panties and plunges two inside me.

I moan through a gasp, and he licks at the roof of my mouth before pulling back to look at me.

A silent thought runs between us, and like a perfectly timed symphony, we move together. He pulls his fingers from inside me, stretching my panties to the side so I have room to guide his dick to my entrance, and then we both roll our hips in time with each other so he’s sheathed inside me.

“Oh, fuck,” I cry, my head rolling back on the bed at the sensation of being filled.

He groans between his closed lips, reaching up and grabbing my hair to pull my face back to his. “Look at me.”

With fire and pleasure igniting my veins, my mouth drops open when he presses his forehead to mine and starts moving his hips. My pussy suctions tight around him as all my muscles clench, and he grips onto my hair tighter.

“Goddamn,” he groans, bucking his hips.

The connection between us burns, our gazes so magnetically connected that I probably couldn’t look away if I tried, and the room falls away around us. It’s just him, his breath against mine, and his cock sliding against my G-spot again and again.

“Hayden,” I moan against his mouth. “Faster.”

He speeds up his thrusts. “You gonna come for me, Penelope?”

I nod, moans crawling up my throat and escaping my lips as my orgasm builds in my core. He yanks on my hair, thrusting and rolling his hips in the perfect way to set me off, and I explode around him when he slams his mouth to mine again.

He fucks into me hard and fast through my release, holding my jerking body still by pressing his body down onto mine. Every inch of him rubs against me, from our chests to the skin of our stomachs, everything sticks together while he tortures me with his cock. He keeps kissing me madly, swallowing down the moans that accompany my climax and making my head spin.

My legs shake as I secure them around his waist, rolling my hips as much as I can to create friction against my clit to extend my orgasm.

He yells into my mouth as he pulls back an inch, and I watch him fall over the edge of his orgasm with me, his face twisting into pleasure as his hips pound into me like mad.

“Fuck!” he yells, twisting his fingers in my hair and pulling hard.

I roll my head back, the lace of my bra scraping against his chest as he continues to spill. Our skin slaps together over and over until we both finally fall breathlessly into the abyss of our post-nut bliss.

His body is heavy on top of mine, the only sounds filling the room are our collective breaths as we try to get our minds to catch up to our bodies. After a minute, he kisses along my throat. “That was quick.”

“I know,” I say, feeling dizzy from my orgasm.

“I didn’t use a condom,” he continues, lightly biting my skin. “I came inside you.”

“I know,” I repeat, every inch of my skin tingling with the aftermath of what we just did. “It’s okay.”

“Are you on the pill?” he asks, licking up my neck to my lips.

“Yes.” I grin. “But I’ll take a Plan B to be safe if you want.”

“Okay.” He kisses me for a moment before he pulls back. “I’m clean. I actually got tested yesterday. I can show you the results if you want.”

“I trust you,” I say, my mind floating above my body as warmth spreads through me.

“Why? You don’t even know me.”

His words pull me from my fog, and I focus on the darkness of his pupils before I respond. “I can see it in your eyes. You wouldn’t lie.”

He chuckles. “I might. That’s the point. You don’t know one way or another if that’s something I would lie about.”

I brush my lips against his playfully. “I’m intuitive. I can read people and see past all the bullshit they try to show on the surface.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What can you read about me?”

I pat his back with my hand, then start to roll myself to the side to tell him to lie next to me so I can breathe. He props himself up on his arm once he’s on his side and looks at me.

“You’re tough, but you’re good,” I start, my eyes searching his. “You have this dark, bad boy thing on the outside, trying to show the world you don’t give a fuck, but underneath, it you’re just like me – broken.”

He swallows, flicking his gaze to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. “Why are you broken, Penelope?”

I run the tip of my finger down the artwork on his forearm, around his wrist, and then I trace the letters on his knuckles. “Aren’t we all a little broken?”

He thinks over my question for a silent moment, then leans forward to kiss me. His hands curl around my waist and he pulls my body into his, wrapping my leg over his hip. Pulling back, he breathes against my lips. “You wanna do ecstasy and go swimming?”

I laugh, the question catching me off guard. “I need to be able to drive home.”

“You’ll be fine in a couple of hours, it’s still early. We can trip out in the pool and fuck a few more times.” He grins, his brows wiggling.

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I say, toying with his fingers.

“You don’t need one.”