Fourteen

Kian

Her words spurred me on, just like the sexy little cheer chants that were designed to tease us. I gripped her hips as I pulled back, my face contorting with pleasure as I felt her walls constricting around me, then slammed back into her. My own groans escaping through my lips while repeating the action, finding a steady rhythm.

"Just like that, don't stop!" Stacey cried out, both of us becoming more vocal as we reached our crescendo.

Sparks were flying through my veins. Not the forever love kind, but the thrill of a good fuck. 

Stacey Rayne really was a good fuck, not that I had anyone to compare her to. A gradual wave of euphoria began to build in my balls, boiling over the rim like an active volcano, erupting through the length of my cock, and filling the condom with hot, sticky cum. Stacey's pussy walls hugged me tighter, an ear-splitting scream rattling around the tiles as her body shook with the force of her climax.

I gave her ass a playful slap. "Same time tomorrow?" I suggested, half-seriously because that was fucking awesome, and I wanted a repeat.

"If I can regain the feeling in my legs." She groaned out a chuckle.

I pulled out of her and watched her slump to the floor. The rubber hung half-mast down the length of my cock, weighted down by the impressive amount of sperm that had collected at the end. I pulled it off and tied a knot at the end of it, managing a three-pointer that landed it straight in the trash can.

"Great shot," Stacey praised, seeming impressed.

"Ain't I always?" I replied, arrogant as ever.

Stacey and I showered together afterward, but mostly we made out. Losing my V-card to one of the hottest girls in the school almost made up for my family pulling a no-show. In a way, I was glad that my mom was clean because there was no way that I could bring myself to look Dr. Rayne in the eyes now that I'd just fucked her youngest daughter.

"I'm gonna get going," Stacey said as she kissed me one last time. "It's my little brother's birthday and we're going sailing this weekend."

"So, I take it I'm going to have to wait for a replay?" I made a disappointed face, pulling down my bottom lip.

"After that, I need to recover," she stated, wincing as she attempted to walk.

If my cock and tongue were responsible for that, then my sexual escapades would be legendary.

Stacey left me to change back into the clothes that I arrived at school in, then I took the scenic route home. My silver Ford Capri that Dad and I fixed up wasn't much to look at, but it drove like a charm. Jaxton had been barking at me about getting a bike so that I could ride out with him on Sundays, but Mrs. B hated motorcycles. She had already suffered one heart attack; there was no way I was going to give her another by bringing home an iron horse.

My balls were still tingling in my jeans by the time I pulled onto the street. Dad's ranger Jeep wasn't parked up on the drive like I assumed it would be. I pulled up next to the curb, leaving enough space in case he came home. For all I knew, he could've been running late.

I locked the door of my car, not that anyone would bother trying to steal it because it was the value of scrap metal, and strolled up to the tidy driveway that was now free of weeds. I was still humming along to the last song that I heard on the radio as I gripped hold of my door key and rammed it into the lock. My brows bunched with momentary confusion as the door refused to open. I rattled the handle, then bent down to peer through the mailbox.

"Mom? Are you home?" I yelled through, then paused as I waited for a response.

Silence greeted me, which was weird because Mom was always home at this time of day. I flicked my eyes to Mrs. B's place and noticed that her living room curtains were still closed. That meant that she was still taking her afternoon nap, and Mom hadn't gone over to wake her and make her a snack.

"Jesus Christ," I huffed, cursing out loud because now I had to climb over the locked back gate so that I could access the back door. Mom must have fallen asleep and left her key jammed in the other side of the door again. She used to do that whenever . . . whenever she was taking a hit!

My footsteps thundered across the paving stones, and I cleared the gate in one bolstered jump. Dread whirled through my mind like a tornado, a sickening feeling that I hadn't felt for a long time.

I rattled the back door and found that it was locked. Even after trying my key, I found that it still wouldn't budge.

"Shit!" My shoulder rammed into the solid wood, once, twice, then burst off its hinges, throwing splinters up in my face.

My heart hammered in my eardrums, screaming loudly like a high-pitched frequency. I thundered through the kitchen, my thoughts wild and frantic, then came to a stop in the living room doorway as if pulled back by an invisible thread.

My fingers raked over my buzzed scalp as my mind struggled to make sense of the scene before me: Mom wearing her thin, cotton nightdress, her hair still sleep tossed from waking up in the morning, her body draped across the couch as if she had fallen into restless sleep, the look of pain that had branded itself onto her face, her fingers curled around the official-looking paper, and the heroin needle that was left hanging from her vein.

My teeth ground together with a maelstrom of emotions: anger, hurt, disappointment, but mostly heartbreak.

"Mom?" I approached her meekly, my voice nothing more than a frightened whisper.

I knew before I took the needle out and threw it against the wall. I knew before I placed my hand against her cheek and felt her cold, lifeless skin. I knew before I sank to my knees and cradled her against my heaving chest. I just knew.

I knew that she was long gone and had been for hours.

"It's okay, Mom, I'm here." I sniffed while rocking her gently in my arms, brushing my fingers through her tangled hair. "I got you."

Instinct took over after the realization settled within me. I placed my hand over her eyes and closed them so that she could be mistaken for sleeping.

"Why, Mom?" I breathed, devastated, the hot tears free-falling down my face. "What made you do this, huh?"

Her spirit was long gone, leaving behind nothing but an empty vessel. I knew that, but talking to her brought me a small shred of comfort. It enabled me to pretend that she was still here.

I pulled the paper from between her fingers and was just about ready to discard it when I noticed where it was from. With Mom still slumped against my chest, my eyes scanned back and forth across the army-style telegram, the painful message delivering me another shot to the head.

“The clan leaders desire me to express their deepest regret that your mate, Ranger James Richard Jones, was killed in action.”

I couldn't read any farther, crumpling up the paper into my balled-up fist. That was her reason — my father was dead! I was pouting like a fucking school kid because they hadn't shown up to my game, and all this time, my father was dead, and my mother was pumping shit into her veins so that she could join him. Life seemed so fucking irrelevant compared to this.

Mom's body felt like it was crushing me. My own lungs burned as if they were on fire.

The sound of my anguished cries rattled the foundations of the house. Just as everything had started falling into place, it was cruelly snatched from under me in the blink of an eye.

"Kian?" The frail voice of Mrs. B. filtered through the house.

I blanched, getting to my feet in a hurry so that I could spare her from the shock of witnessing this.

"Don't come in," I warned, my own broken voice sounding raw and fragile.

"I couldn't reach my pills, and I had an accident in the kitchen," she informed me, sounding apologetic as if she thought of herself as a burden.

I swallowed thickly. "What the hell are you doing trying to reach for those yourself? You should've called the school, and I would have come straight home," I told her, wishing I had.

I found her standing in the hallway in her nightdress and slippers, her wispy white hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She took in the sight of me, and her wise eyes filled with pain.

"Oh, Kian," she breathed, understanding what had happened without needing to be told. "If I had woken up sooner . . ." She began to blame herself, and I couldn't allow for that.

"It's not your fault," I told her, making sure she knew I meant it. "They're both someplace better than here." I hoped that was the case, because otherwise their lives meant nothing.

I took hold of her trembling hand and placed it around the crease of my elbow. "Let me get you back home, then I'm gonna have to call this in."

And just like that, the ground began to crumble beneath all my dreams, tipping the scales in favor of the darkness.