He lowers his head to the crook of my neck, and he kisses me softly just like before. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up at his tenderness. It’s another trap. He has figured out that’s my spot—my weakness—so why am I falling for it?
I moan loudly and then bite my lip to keep from begging for more.
“You want me to treat you how I do her?” he whispers.
I fight to free my hands from his hold, but it doesn’t work. I know he still sees her. He proved that when he thought I was her at Silence.
“Tell me, baby. Did it turn you on when I ordered her to her knees so I could fuck her mouth?”
My breath hitches.
“Did you listen to her suck my cock like the desperate woman she was?” he asks amused.
“Yes,” I answer shamelessly.
I thought she was as weak and pathetic as he did. Now I understand why she so willingly fell to her knees to try to convince him to stay. But unlike my sister, I know, no matter how much time you spend staying on your knees, you don’t win Deke Biggs over. There are too many other girls out there willing to do the same thing.
His lips trail over my collarbone, and he bites it through my shirt. I whimper as the feel of his teeth makes my pussy throb.
“Do you want to be useful to me?” he asks. “Take her place?”
“Stop!” I growl, getting pissy. “I’m nothing like her.” I want you to want me for me. Fuck Becky and what he felt for her!
He steps back and drops my arms. They fall to my sides like dead weight, and I hate the distance he’s put between us now.
“You’re exactly like her.” He looks me up and down, his blue eyes full of hatred, his lips pulled back with disgust.
For the first time, I see how much he truly hates her. How much I must remind him of her. We both have blond hair and blue eyes, but I’m smaller than her in height and overall size. Becky has always been runway ready with her long legs, but I prefer an oversized T-shirt, no makeup, and a pint of ice cream in my lap while I stay home watching some frightening shit on Netflix. She likes to go out, get drunk or high, and show off everything she has in a tiny skintight dress with heels.
We may look alike, but our similarities stop there. He’ll never believe me, though. And I’m not about to try to make him understand.
But if he hates her so much, then why did he do what he did to me at Silence, thinking I was her? My only guess is a power trip. He thought she wanted him, and he was going to take advantage of the situation. Then he realized it was me, and he was disgusted. He may hate my sister, but I’m nothing to him. Insignificant. And that’s a hard pill for me to swallow.
The fact that I hate Deke is no longer an issue because my hatred for my sister is far greater. So I’m going to do what I watched her do all those years and use what God gave me.
“Get the hell out of here.” He nods to the closed bedroom door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DEKE
SHE STANDS THERE, back still against the wall, looking every bit of pissed and turned on all at once. Ignoring her, I go to my walk-in closet and grab a shirt off the hanger. I feel like going out for the evening, and there’s a party on campus that I can hit up. I need to get drunk and hook up with some stranger because all this pent-up aggression I have for Demi is giving me a headache. Not to mention blue balls.
When I walk out, she’s still standing there, blue eyes glaring into mine and arms now crossed over her chest.
“I’m better than her.”
The bitch is convinced. I’ll give her that. A part of me wants to believe her, but I know the truth. She’s just another spoiled Holt who thinks she deserves every little fucking thing she wants.
I snort.
She lifts her chin. “At everything.”
I toss my shirt onto my unmade bed and smirk, looking her up and down. Wanting to really look at her. Is there a difference? She wore a pair of skinny jeans, cuffed at the ankles with a plain black T-shirt that’s just short enough to show me a little sliver of her tan stomach and a pair of black heels, giving her every bit of an extra five inches. Just as Becky would. But it doesn’t suit her. I found her much more attractive in the oversized shirt and underwear she had on last night. With Demi, less is better. But her words don’t match her actions. She looks identical to Becky in every way.