But instead, Demi Holt fucked me. Just not in a good way.
Leaning forward, he places his forearms on the table. “How do you accidentally sleep with someone?” he asks curiously.
“I thought she was Becky.” She had acted so willing in this very room just hours before that, that I didn’t question her decision to spread her legs for me after going three months without even speaking a word.
Guys only think with their dicks.
Yeah, Demi, I did. But I was hard for your sister, not you, you little bitch.
His brows rise to his hairline. Then he sits back and pushes his wet hair off his forehead. “How did you …?” He pauses, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know you and Becky were still fucking.”
“We aren’t!” I begin to pace. “At Silence, right before the lights shut off, we got separated. I thought I was with Becky. Long story short, I finger-fucked her right then and there while the power was out in the hallway. Then after she came, she split.”
“That’s why you were so surprised when I told you that we had been outside for a while.”
I nod. “That’s when Demi showed up, and she had my gum. I started to panic. Then I followed her over to get Austin’s gummies, and she confirmed it was her.”
“Shit,” he whispers.
I nod. “Yes. Shit is right.” I look at him. “I called her Becky. She had every chance to stop me, and she didn’t. Why the fuck didn’t she?” I demand as if he has the answers.
I can’t figure out what her angle is. Demi doesn’t like me enough to talk to me, let alone allow me to finger-fuck her in a public place. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. Then she acted like I could have fucked her while we stood behind the trailer. And the problem? I wanted to! Fuck, I thought about it. That alone makes me want to throw fucking bleach in my eyes in hopes to erase the memory. I’m still thinking about it.
“So, what’s the issue?”
“It’s Demi!” My eyes bug out as if that’s enough reason to panic. He just stares at me. So I add, “She’s underage.” That’s just one reason out of many why this is so fucked up.
“Legal age of consent in the state of Texas is seventeen.” He shrugs before taking another drink. “She’s seventeen.”
She is but … “How do you know that?” I ask, coming to a stop. Since when does Cole know Texas law?
A dark look clouds his eyes when he answers. “My dad brought it up back in Oregon regarding Austin and me. And after what I saw between you and Demi earlier, I looked it up. Just to make sure she couldn’t get you in trouble.”
Even he thinks she was setting me up for something. The sad part? I fell for it. Who knows what I would have done if he hadn’t shown up when he did. I run a hand through my hair. “That fucking bitch played me. Then she laughed. As if it was some kind of game to her.”
“What are you gonna do about it?” he asks.
Placing my hands on the table, I lean over and look down at my best friend. “I want to show Demi just what kind of game I like to play.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, the one that tells me he’s up for whatever I want to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it. Whatever Cole is dealing with right now, this could be his distraction. I’m always willing to help my friend out.
He nods. “Let’s play.”
That bitch doesn’t want to fuck with me. I’ve got all kinds of tricks up my sleeves. I watched the look of satisfaction in her eyes and her smug smile when she sucked on my finger. Fuck, it made me hard. And I tried so goddamn hard not to think about it. Not to feel it. But in the end, she won that round. She thinks she can push me to touch her, to fuck her? She’s about to realize she can push me, all right, but it won’t get her the result she wants.
DEMI
I lie in my king-size bed, my back propped against the padded white headboard while I watch the documentary Serial Clown Killer on YouTube. A serial killer who lived in Illinois known as Pogo the Clown. Hired to perform at birthday parties, he would sexually assault the boys, strangle them with rope, and then bury their bodies under his house. He was put to death in 1994 after being found guilty of thirty-three counts of murder.
Murderers and psychopaths have always fascinated me. I’ve always wondered how a mind of a serial killer works. What makes them want to kill? And what makes them choose their victims? How do they not get caught? I can see someone getting away with one or maybe two, but more than that? Thirty-three fucking murders before finally being arrested. No way. That would never happen these days. The technology we have now would make it difficult for anyone to slip through the system.