THE NEXT STORY WILL BEGIN SOME OF THE OLD BEING TOLD BUT WITH ENDINGS FOR THEM.
The house was too quiet without him. Norma told herself she should enjoy the peace, a glass of wine, a long bath, an early night. But instead, she paced the living room, nerves buzzing under her skin. She knew why.At 9 p.m., the knock came. When she opened the door, Jade stood there in ripped jeans and a black top that hugged her curves. Her hair was loose, her lips painted dark. One look, and Norma felt her knees weaken.“You shouldn’t be here,” Norma whispered, though she didn’t move aside. Jade smirked. “And yet you’re opening the door for me.”Norma stepped back. She didn’t close the door until Jade was inside, until she was leaning against it, breathing in the scent of perfume and cigarettes that clung to her skin.Neither of them spoke. Jade crossed the room, took Norma’s wineglass from her hand, set it down, and kissed her hard. No hesitation, no waiting. Tongues clashed, teeth scraped, moans filled the air. Norma’s hands clawed at Jade’s shirt, pulling it over her head, reveal
Norma lived a life that looked perfect from the outside. She had a husband who adored her, a steady job, a house in a neighborhood where the lawns were trimmed and the neighbors waved politely. Every day was the same: coffee, commute, meetings, spreadsheets, dinner, bed.But inside, she was restless. There were nights she lay awake next to her husband, staring at the ceiling, aching for something she couldn’t say out loud. Something wet, something forbidden, something she’d only admitted to herself in secret. She loved women. Had always loved women.Her husband never knew. He thought she was his, completely, without question. He thought differently of his perfect little wife.That was the danger. That was the problem. Because his wife was deeply in love with his little sister, Jade.The first time Norma saw her, years ago at a holiday gathering, she’d felt that pull immediately. Jade was breathtaking , tall, sharp-eyed, lips made for sin. She hugged Norma politely, but her hands linger
He kissed her like he was starved. Like her mouth was the first thing that had tasted real in weeks. He gripped her jaw, pulled her in harder, and her lips opened like they’d always belonged under his. His kiss was deep, greedy, no hesitation. Tongue pushing past hers, not asking permission, taking. Claiming. She moaned into it, tasting him, letting him pull her further into whatever this was.She was pressed against the wall now. One of her legs was up around his hip. She felt the rough drag of his stubble against her neck. She loved it. His hands were everywhere, tracing her waist, her ass, sliding under her shirt. It was dizzying. He kissed her like he hated the thought of stopping. She wanted his mouth lower. She wanted to feel him worship every inch.The bed wasn’t far, but he didn’t rush. He took her wrist and walked her back, slow, purposeful, eyes locked. The kind of stare that said I know exactly what I’m about to do to you.She backed into the edge of the mattress, sat down,
Cordelia and David grew up side by side their entire lives. If one fell sick, the other would follow almost immediately—a strange, shared affliction their parents found endearing. They were a packaged deal, pushed into every activity together. But the one thing their parents could never have predicted was their trajectory: drifting apart, falling in love, and then drifting apart again, into what some would call a toxic, enemies-to-lovers dynamic.That's what everyone saw from the outside. But at this moment, Cordelia's hands were braced against David's short hair as he licked her clitoris. Her moan was muffled by her own hand as he pulled back and then flicked with his tongue, for some reason, they had begun what could only be called an enemies-with-benefits arrangement. And this is how it all started.On Thursday, January 5, 2012, Cordelia landed a job as a bartender. It wasn't a fancy place, but it offered a good healthcare plan, and that was all that mattered. So when she found out
His mouth tasted like sin, and I opened wider for it. I wanted to disappear into it. His rough hands left chills over my skin, dragging over the top I wore until he found my nipples. He tugged one string and bent down, taking one into his mouth with a sharp, perfect bite.“Please,” I whispered, breathless. He chuckled, fingers teasing, tracing every curve, drawing it out just to torture me.I was his. A toy. A fucking addict. And he was my fix.“Patience,” he muttered, switching to the other nipple, tongue swirling, sucking, biting.I arched up into him. The world faded. I could’ve come just from this. Just from his mouth on my tits. But I needed more. I needed all of it.“Please. Please.”He shoved me onto the bed. The sheets were cold, stained, and worn. I bounced when I landed. He peeled off his clothes like he couldn’t stand them another second. Tight body. Strong chest dusted with red hair. Then the pants. No boxers. Cock hard, thick, glistening with precum.I wanted to taste it.
I saw him the second he walked in. Tall. Red hair. Big brown eyes. Full lips. He had that kind of fucked-up energy my friends and I used to call questionable. That’s how I knew him.Zachary Dubois. My dead sister’s husband.What I felt for him wasn’t just questionable. It was wrong. Sick. Stupid. Twisted. I knew it. I didn’t care. Because before he was hers, he was mine. I loved him first. And then he fell head over heels for her, and I disappeared. Watched them play happy family while I swallowed every ugly feeling.Then she died. In a car. With her lover. After another one of their secrets blew up in their perfect fucking faces. Even then, I stayed away. I knew how much he loved her. I wasn’t the one he chose. Not back then.But that changed when he called and asked me to watch the kids. His voice was shot when he called. Low. Hollow. Like it came from the grave.“Can you watch the kids?” No hello. No small talk. Just that.And like the pathetic mess I am, I said yes. I hadn’t been