Harkham's Choice (Harkham's Series Book 2) (12 page)

“I . . . God, I don’t know,” he said, his head lolling back and forth. Every few seconds he’d look down at her hand stroking him and squeezing as hard as she could. He’d suck in some air and look at her with so much desire and longing.

“Because I’m not good. You’re gonna come so hard, and you’ll have a hard time walking when I’m done with you. But you know . . . Nobody’s gonna think you hurt yourself. They’re gonna know I had you back here, that I did raunchy things to you, because I’m gonna gloat at those nasty bitches out there.” She wished she didn’t have to do this.

“But they . . . But you . . .” He licked his lips and looked down again. “Oh, God, it’s so hard and sore! It’s never been this big and heavy.”

“I know. I know I made it this way, and it’s gonna get a lot worse.” She loosened her grip on him and instead of almost shredding her way through his jeans, she unfastened his fly, put her hand inside and tickled with insanely light touches.

“Nnnnghuhh!” he grunted, and grabbed her hand, pushing himself hard up against her. He thrust and whimpered and thrashed.

“You want this because you don’t realize I’m deteriorating your soul.” She clenched her jaw and spoke through her teeth once more. “They’re right. I’ve been bad for you. But now I want you to know all of me so you’ll be afraid of me like you should’ve been from the start. I’m gonna show you what I’ve done with all those other guys. Then you’ll know how disgusting and diseased I am.” She wished he could understand that his jealousy never made sense to her. The way she treated those guys, like they were nothing but meat? She never wanted to do that to Adam, because he was special. He was way more, and this right here, right now? It was shredding the fabric of her soul he’d been weaving back in place for her.

“No, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head forcefully. “Good for each other.” He kept his hand on hers, keeping his erection in her possession.

“I’d kill those girls if I could. Even if I’ve never done it before, even if Megan’s death wasn’t my fault.” She shook her head and licked her lips as she took a breath. “I’ve got murder in my soul, and blood in my heart that shouldn’t be there. You have to see this about me, Adam.” She snapped her teeth at him, bit at the edge of his jaw with enough pressure to make him wince. If she didn’t do this now, she’d go back to pretending everything was fine.

“That’s not you!” he cried.

“How do you know? What do you really know about me? So, I didn’t kill Megan, but what about the girls in rehab I didn’t help, that committed suicide? What about my closest friend, London, the homeless meth junkie? Did I help her? No!” She stretched her neck and dropped to her knees. “You know I want you—so damn much, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t really know how to take care of anybody but myself, and I don’t even do that very well.” She opened his pants all the way, dropped them to his knees and spit on her index and middle finger. When they were lubed up, she placed them at his puckered hole. This wasn’t enough lube for her fingers, and she knew it, but it would make her point better this way. It would hurt, and he’d see he hadn’t been missing anything at all.

He moaned right away when the tip of her finger hit that spot, but then he stiffened, and she couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t hurt him like that. There was no way she’d ever be able to live with herself if she scarred him with sex this way.

Instead, she opened her mouth, and she sucked him in as deep as she could go.

When his dick was covered in her saliva, she popped him out of her mouth, opened her shirt, dropped her bra and squeezed her tits together. “Fuck my breasts, Adam. Give me a pearl necklace.”

“A pearl what? I don’t have money for that. I’m saving for us to buy a—”

She grabbed his cock and yanked him toward her. “Stop thinking, and shoot your load all over my neck and chin.”

He gulped.

She grinned.

He shook in place as she set his cock between her breasts, holding them together tight.

It only took him three thrusts to figure out how to do it without knocking either one of them over.

She kept staring at his face. “Make me a dirty little whore—I wanna show everyone I’m yours.”

“Ohhh, don’t stop!” he groaned, his eyes a cross between confusion and all-out pure lust. “But I . . . It’s too much! But I want more.” His head shook from one side to the other with indecision. “It’s gonna come outta me. Are you sure you want it there?”

She nodded and extended her tongue, greeting his tip each time it pushed past the tops of her tits.

Licking the slit was easy, since he was well endowed. He was leaking quite a bit, too.

It all would be so amazing, if she wasn’t being so blatantly disgusting. A few tears spilled down her cheeks as she watched him climb toward his climax. What if she never saw this from him again? What if this was it, and she truly did scare him away for good? Or what if his family finally put a stop to their relationship?

It would be for his own good, so she kept giving him what he needed to get there.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck my titties real hard. Don’t hold back. Let your come cover me like a good little slut.”

“Ahhhhhh! I love you!” he grunted—the tendons on his neck bulging as he tried to fight for control. “Oh my God, I . . . Can you watch me spurt on you? I mean, are you . . .” His neck tipped back, and he went incoherent. There were no screams coming from him, but he was more out of control than she thought he’d be.

When she usually touched him with her hand down there, it took a lot longer to get him to this stage.

He muttered a few numbers in response when she licked his tip once more. His hips pitched forward, and it was all over with his loud feral hiss.

He spurted all over her neck, her chin, hit one of her eyebrows and even caught a portion of her hair by her left temple.

Perfect. None of it would go to waste.

Her instincts were to rub it in or wash it off. She did neither.

She let go of him before he was ready, and a stuttered whine tumbled out of him as his torso spasmed and he recoiled a little due to sensitivity.

A moment later, he looked down at himself hanging out, and with a drugged-up smile springing up on his face, he said, “You . . . You got me off real good with your breasts. Like Rory and the others. I’ve had what they did.” He sighed, and his shoulders hit the wall like he might skid his way to the floor.

“It’s not a good thing,” she cried. “Why can’t you see that? None of it’s good, Adam. And if you stay with me, people will continue to harass and torment you all the time. You don’t deserve that. No one does.”

He backed away from her, his left shoulder skimming the wall as he went. With a grimace, he tucked himself away and went to wash his hands and probably check to make sure he didn’t get any bodily fluids on his pants.

“No, you don’t get it. You’re going to own what it means to be around me.” She unlocked the door, yanked him by the hand out after him.

“But I—it’s all over you!”

“You’re gonna walk next to me while they all stare at us. I know you don’t like it when people stare at you this way, but you’ve gotta see it’s only worse when you’re with me. No more lying and pretending I’m good. I especially want your family to see us so they’ll protect you from me. They’ll know what we did, and they’ll tell your dad.”

He blinked, and his mouth moved, but no words came out.

His legs buckled, and he wouldn’t move.

He stood there shaking. Her hand was held out for him, but then she dropped it. His refusal for them to face his family and let things end was the final breaking point for her.

Fine. She’d face it alone. One last moment with him first, though.

“Look at me,” she said, her hands falling lax to her side. “You want to be with someone that drags you down? Let’s show everyone what I do to you. What a worthless creature I am!”

She looked behind her. Kendra and Tara were gone, his siblings talking to the manager at the front of the establishment.

She turned back to Adam. He went rigid, and his legs pushed him up to his full height. Out of nowhere he started shouting numbers.

This time, instead of curling into a ball like she’d seen him do in the past, he started grabbing chairs, throwing them across the room.

Cups were flying, napkins scattering. Before she could stop it, Samara was in front of him, and she got the brunt of the next chair he whipped into the air.

Samara flew back, landed with a sickening crunch on the hard ground.

Mari dropped back out of the way, wondering if she should just leave, since she was the one that provoked this outburst.

He jumped on a table, bellowed formulas, then all at once was completely coherent.

“I’ve wanted you to put your mouth on me and then let me do that to your breasts for so long . . . And you wouldn’t. But now you do, and you were being mean, telling me it’s not good when I came all over you. I want you to kiss me like that on my penis every night and have sex with me all the time. But I have to wait and pretend I’m not in pain with how sore I get because I need you so much. You talk to Zach about your music, not to me. And I want you to. I can’t see
you
? No! You can’t see
m
e if you think I can’t handle this! Why can’t you see all 
that
? All the things I do?” He glared down at Mari with so much hatred, she knew—she finally did.

Marissa Cole, the girl who killed others with neglect and her own selfishness, had finally broken him.

About time he saw her for what she truly was.

Hearing how badly she’d been hurting him all this time made her stomach pitch forward, and she almost gagged on her tongue.

Zach was able to calm him, get him down from his perch, and Samara ran off to talk to the manager once more.

All that was left was for Mari to disappear. So she did, hands and mouth dirtier than ever, heart bleeding black sludge, and tears now flowing so hard she couldn’t see where she was going.

He knew it all.

Maybe she deserved to go back to her father in Alta—the place that had originally broken her and turned her into a sickening, pathetic shell of a girl.

Less people to damage there. Although, it didn’t stop her before . . .

How much carnage could one overweight teenage girl do? Well, now she was walking away—no more people bugging Adam because of her. He could graduate with no more drama. No more Rory, Kendra, or Tara. No more of his sister being upset with him.

As she walked through the parking lot covered in his semen from hairline to breasts, she could hear Adam inside, howling in pain for her. That’s when she bolted and kept herself from looking back.

No amount of hugs could save her from her present ruin.

And no amount of drugs could drown out this pain overtaking her entire heart.

Chapter 7

Mari’s entire body shook like an earthquake was going off inside of her. She wanted a cigarette so badly she stopped a stranger smoking on the street and asked him if she could have one.

He gave her a cigarette. Once she had it in hand, she smacked her back into the closest brick wall and blanked her mind.

Or tried to.

It didn’t work. Her mind replayed over and over the way Adam looked at her like she was the worst person in the world, and the way he chucked furniture around the place.

He physically destroyed stuff the way she destroyed other people mentally—the way she got under their skin and pissed them off repeatedly, until they could barely function. Look at her parents . . .

She sighed.

Where was she supposed to go? If she went to Katie’s, she’d have to tell her what happened.

No, she couldn’t do that.

But it was bone-chilling cold today. Besides, Christmas was around the corner, and she wasn’t going to inconvenience anybody when they were busy with the holidays.

She smoked the cigarette until it was done, and knew what she had to do.

It was getting dark. She hopped a bus and wound up at her mom’s place. She waited in the front yard until she was certain her mother had gone to bed.

That’s when she pulled out her pocketknife and picked the doorlock on the Jeep.

Her mom sometimes left a blanket in the trunk.

Mari got the door open, snuck into the backseat, found that ratty old blanket and curled into a ball.

She was already shivering, but it didn’t matter, because her thoughts burned her from the inside out.

Her fingers shook as she set her alarm on her phone to wake her up before her mom would need to leave the next morning for her weekend work shift.

Mari’s stomach ached so badly she was only able to get snippets of sleep here and there. But when she did zone out, she’d have nightmares of Adam dying, covered in blood, semen and vomit, chanting numbers with blood-red eyes.

Her chest would pound, her throat would constrict and she’d gasp for breath as her body writhed.

Please, be okay, Adam. Please, stay away . . .

She choked on a sob and fought the screams so she wouldn’t alert anybody she was here.