3 Decisions

Date = 5 September

Place = San Francisco (Uncle John’s house)

 

POV - Damion

Shit, she is even prettier than I remembered, if that’s possible.

My eyes immediately found her in the crowd … like they always do. She’s standing between her uncle and Kiara, just mere meters away from me, wearing distressed jeggings that make those sporty legs pop.

Combine that with a barely-not-see-through, silky, dirty-pink, off-shoulder shirt, showing just the hint of a slinky black bra that flatters her C-cup cleavage and she’s demanding me to stand up and pay fucking attention.

She has great tits. The best I’ve ever seen — full and stiff and just big enough without looking unproportional. I bet they will feel like heaven in my hands.

Fuck. I move a little to compensate for the blood flooding a part south of my navel and seriously try to reprimand my cock down before it gets embarrassing. This girl is making it fucking hard not to act on my impulses. Very fucking hard.

Her hair hangs loose in soft curls down her back, reaching that tight hot-as-fuck ass. I love the color — white-spun sun with streaks of gold, ash, and honey all married together.

Enrique walks past, his arm around a gorgeous redhead dressed in a skimpy skirt and top. Typical of him … he loves gingers. Always has. I’m a blonde man myself. Actually, since the haunted house incident, I’ve secretly been a one-blonde man.

“Looking good, peops!” he shouts at the two girls.

“Who’s the new flavor of the day?” Kiara asks as her mouth pulls into a smile.

“Not a clue, you know I can’t keep up with my brothers’ fuckbuddies, so I don’t even bother to ask for names anymore.” I smile at both her answer and the judgmental look on her face. I know she thinks all of us are man-whores … players … and it’s probably true. The majority of this group does fuck around a lot… myself included, but I bet our numbers are not nearly as high as she thinks them to be.

She doesn’t understand the complications of being a man. Stats show that the average man thinks about sex every 8 seconds. I would put it more to the likes of every 15 seconds, but yeah … it’s not far from the truth.

“So where’s this Ren?” Uncle John asks.

My face contorts into a disgusted smirk all by itself. I’ve heard she’s going out with some asshole. I’m not happy. And it’s something I need to rectify asap.

“He’s going to be a little late cause he’s picking up some friends after work.” I don’t know this Ren guy … but I’ve heard the dude is friends with Jason. Jason fucking Steward. How the fuck can she go out with anyone even remotely related to HIM?

Those parrot-blue eyes lock on mine, making my little man want to do the hula. Not being with a girl for what seems like forever doesn’t help either.

Those windows to her soul display a mother-load of paradoxes — it’s as if the girl is in a constant battle with herself whenever I’m around. Love and hate — both intense emotions directed at me. Ambivalence.

I notice the subtle intake of breath, the way her nostrils suddenly flare, the light coating of goosebumps on her skin, the sudden increase of her pulse, the look in her eyes that she so desperately tries to hide with a shitty expression. I can read her like a fucking comic book.

She’s not as immune to my charms as she wants to let on. That’s not where the problem lies — will she forgive me for ripping out her heart? That’s the question. She’s rather stubborn that one. And can she learn to trust me? Trust is important for my plan to work. But I have an idea that I will need to work on that.

I’m definitely anything but immune to her too.

Hell, she can seriously seduce me with just one look. Fucking magic sorcery. Why else would an 11-year-old boy lose his heart at first sight? The girl is a fucking bewitching angel with voodoo spells.

I clench my hands in fists next to my body and bite my jaw not to grab her and kiss those sinful pink lips. To move my hands underneath that shirt, into those pants, and explore that warm part of her I always dream about. Erotic steaming wet dreams that leave me breathless for hours. Every fucking time.

Oh, I want her so badly … to satisfy this craving she created in me. Maybe fucking her will break the spell she holds over me. My dick stirs again.

I take a deep breath, smile widely, and wink at her.

A little ungirly swear word, starting with a C and naming the place that’s hopefully heating up right now, escapes her lips, a bit too hard. She slams her hand over her mouth while a pink blush spreads to her cheeks. Both her uncle and Kiara look rather astonished at her. She pulls her shoulders up.

“Sorry, it slipped out,” she apologizes while glaring at me with heated eyes. I swear she’s strangling me in her mind. Kinky. I can work with that.

I’m vaguely aware of a touch, but my mind is still lingering on erotic thoughts only she can evoke, and I can’t register, think dirty, and be hard at the same time.

She breaks the passionate lock between our eyes, a moment of heartbreak illuminated in those baby-blues, crashing my thoughts.

Somewhere in my poised mind, I figure that I’m to blame for her sadness again, as my brain slowly starts to function back to normality.

I watch her walk away. Hell, over the years, the habit of her running away from me became a rather familiar sight, one that I came to appreciate, and one that keeps me spellbound. Who wouldn’t with an ass like hers swaying away for you to feast your eyes on?

“Did you miss me, baby?” A warm breath blows in my ear. I freeze. Fuck. I was so engrossed in the moment I didn’t fully register the invasion of my space. I remove the snaky arm from my body as I turn to face probably my least favorite person in this world.

“Why the fuck are you here?” I hiss. “This is a private function.” I’m not happy.

“Oh, it’s like fate,” she starts energetically, “I don’t know if you’ve met Ren … he’s my high-school buddy … and he is going to marry the little blonde girl who lives here.” Over my fucking dead body.

“And I know you are friends with her brothers so I tagged along. And here you are.” Great. Now I seriously need to get Mel away from that asshole. Not only is he friends with Jason … he’s also friends with Chloe Bear … the biggest bitch psycho predator stalker in the world.

Chloe puts her head on my shoulder, holding me so tight my arm is going numb.

“Get the fuck off me!” I shake her off. She pouts her lips. Ugh, suddenly I realize I might not be too fond of blood-red lipstick. I take out my phone and send a group message to the boys.

“S1 PSB — Chloe. ” They’ll understand. We have these codes. PSB is psycho stalker bitch. And S1 means seriousness level 1, in other words, it’s fucking serious.

Jackson eyeballs me from across the room. One side of his lip curls up into an annoying smile. I know that smile. Fuck. He’s been keeping an eye on me since he caught me that day with his sister.

Almost killed me, the fucker. The boy is even more broken than me. And way more dangerous.

I need a fucking drink. A strong one. As soon as I can escape these tentacles.

Axel is first to the rescue.

“Chloe, come with me.” He grabs her arm and pulls her away. She starts to protest, but I’m already ducking out, looking around to find Mel.

Then I see her. She’s talking to Aunt Betty and … my mother. She’s met my mother about twice before.

I walk past the bar, grab a drink, and settle into a corner, close enough to eavesdrop. Yeah, not my finest moment. I should be here for Logan, not spy on his sister.

“So, how was your vacation?” Mom asks, her green eyes drifting over the crowd until it lands on me where I’m leaning on the table against the wall. She frowns lightly. I pull an I-have-to-do-this face and hope she understands her son. But how can she when I don’t even understand myself?

All reason left that day. The 1st of March it was again. I spent a good deal of my life since then, to fathom why I feel what I feel. I still don’t know exactly, but I have an idea.

That day … was a bad day for me, one of the worst. I didn’t expect anyone else to be at that haunted house. So the group of kids was a surprise. I wanted to warn them … but chaos erupted before I could.

And there, between all the madness of fleeing children, a small girl stood bravely, holding her pierced arm, blood dripping through her fingers. She didn’t cry. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked like a wounded angel trying to break out of the darkness. Perfect in any way. Our eyes met and my pain lifted. For the first time in a year, I felt alive.

Maybe that’s where the attraction lies. The fact that she somehow makes it hurt less. For some reason, she’s the only one who can.

“It was great. We saw so many things. I’m really glad we did it.” I’m glad too. I could take the time to focus on myself. I delved into my heart and tried to fix the broken parts.

It was not easy, but I can earnestly say, I know now what I want. And I’m going to do anything I can to get it.

To protect her I shall break every rule. To have her I shall face all my demons. I shall defend her from anything, but who will protect me?

“Hey, dude,” Jackson leans onto the table next to me, his eyes fixed on the same spot as mine … his sister. Fuck.

I down my drink.

But to get what I want … there lies the motherfucking problem. It’s delicate, and challenging, and hazardous. I’m going to have to risk everything. I sneak a peek at the man next to me. Oh, I might make it out alive, but I am definitely gonna experience some extreme physical pain, that’s for sure.

Her curse. I smirk. I started that. And now I’m going to experience it. Karma is a bitch they say.

I turn my glass around between my fingers. But I’m not backing out now.

This is probably the most important decision I’ve made in my life. It took me almost the whole bloody season to decide — I needed to be 110% sure. But I’m ready. It’s now or never.

“What’s wrong with you these last couple of months?” His blue eyes glare through my soul and into the darkest little corner of my being. No one can hide stuff from Jackson for too long — he’s just that good. But I can’t let him in. Not this time. Not yet. I lower my eyes to hide the truth. However, I need to say something. But what?

I can’t very well say I’m thinking of breaking the rules. MY RULES. Rules I never dare to break! Rules that keep me in control.

And I certainly can’t say I’m going to start dating your sister and I’m for sure going to fuck her blind as soon as she’s ready.

“Are you still rattled by the accident?”

No. I’m way past that. Even my body has healed.

“Yes.” I lie. I have to. Jackson is way too observant. And if he finds out now, everything will be ruined. I won’t have a hooting chance in hell to come anywhere near Mel.

I can’t make mistakes.

“Hey,” Luke shouts and grabs my arm. My little brother is only nine but he has the jig of a future player. “Have you met this girl?” I now notice that he’s holding Mel’s hand.

“That’s my sister, little dude,” Jackson says. “Don’t even think about it or I might just have to kill you.” I’m not sure if he’s serious or teasing right now.

“But she’s so dope,” Luke pouts innocently. “I mean, just look at her.” Mel blushes lightly and messes up Luke’s dark hair. “And she smells like candy.”

He’s right. Just seeing her sends a soft humming of need through my body. And she smells like fucking heaven. I want this girl more than anything else on this green earth.

From the first time I saw her, Mel shook my boat, but it was at her locker where she grabbed me by the balls, and she hadn’t let go. I can’t get her out of my mind. And trust me, it’s not because of a lack of trying. I’ve been trying for 10 fucking years. I’ve tried everything … I tried to stay away, I tried to be a good boy, I tried to fuck her out of my mind, I tried to concentrate on my racing, I tried to grow out of it. Nothing seems to work.

I’ve been patient … but I think I’ve reached my limit.

Luke pulls Mel forward and her arm brushes against mine. It feels as if I am shocked by a cattle prodder, sparks shooting from my arm to my toes, electrifying my dick into a semi-hardon.

“Hey, Jackson,” Enrique shouts from the bar, “Come drink one with the birthday boy.” Logan is already a little unfit on his feet. Jackson leaves, taking some of the tension with him.

“So, how have you been? Enjoyed the year away?” Hearing the slight crack in my voice makes me cringe for a drink right about now … an extra-extra-strong one.

“I’m good thanks, yep, a year away from YOU and my brothers — best time ever.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. And I’m sure she accentuated the ‘you’.

I lean forward, my mouth at her ear.

“So did you think of me?”

She gasps. “Yes.” I know it slipped out. She backpedals as fast as she can. “No!” A horrified expression on her face.

I pull my eyebrows up and plaster on a sexy grin. It pees her off in an instant. I’m sure she’s thinking of strangling me again.

“It will be much more erotic,” I say. It comes out more husky than intended.

“Huh?” She’s clearly confused.

“Choking me in reality will feel much more erotic than dreaming about it.” Her eyes grow wide.

“It’s a gift,” I answer her unasked question. Darn, I love teasing her.

“If you date my lame-ass brother, you can become my sister,” my brother chimes with puppy-love eyes. “Please, the guy sucks in the female department, but he’s a pretty nice dude if you get to know him.”

“I don’t suck.” I just try to keep my sex life away from home. It’s in my rules. And I’m not proud of the way the press portrays me. Or that they’re mostly right.

“And I’m sure this lame-ass brother can still kick your but!” I say, suppressing a smile, “I don’t have a problem picking up girls.”

“That’s for sure,” she hisses, her face turning into that familiar judgmental one. Maybe I should just shut up now before I ruin everything.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll believe it when you ask Mel out.” Luke pulls a shitty face while looking sincerely at me.

“I’ll see about that.” I wink at my brother.

“Chicken!” Luke pulls his eyes at Mel with a sexy little I-told-you-so smile and then he challenges me with a cocky stance, chin in the air.

“And you’re so dead,” I threaten. Luke runs away, looking back, pointing his fingers at me and then at his eyes, showing that he’s watching me. I smile and pull a finger across my neck, making a cut-throat sound.

“Cocky little bastard.”

“Seems to me it runs in the family,” she dabs.

“Yep, just like our great taste in women. So will you?” I blink and scratch the back of my head. Why do I feel awkward all of a sudden?

“Go out with you?” her voice dips. I hold my breath. Then she pushes out her chest, not knowing that she leaving me with the perfect view of her cleavage. “I’m not that naïve little girl anymore and I’m certainly not your kinda girl.” She wiggles her eyes and gives me a million-dollar smile. Oh, has she got it wrong. She’s exactly my type. In fact, she’s my only type.

“And what kind might that be?”

“Firstly, it’s old news that Mr. MotoGP doesn’t do blondes. I’m for sure not dying my hair brown to fit into your groupie spectrum.” Okay … maybe I only sleep with brunettes. But there’s a reason for that. A very good one, in fact.

“Maybe you should not judge what you don’t know. Things aren’t always as they seem.” I interrupt her before she gets to her second reason.

My mouth is super dry all of a sudden. This is going to be a little bit more difficult than I thought. How can I convince her that I’ve changed?