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That's when the lights come back on.
Chapter 8
RAIDEN
Poppy stares up at Lynx like they're the only ones in the room.
It doesn't matter that they're standing in the center of our crowded living room. Surrounded by sweaty bodies, who, despite the lack of music before we could get the electrics back on, continued to grind around them. Some are now just openly fucking, the power turning the low lights back on, revealing their antics to the crowd.
Hoots and hollers roar in the room, the music kicking back up to a volume that makes my ears ring. But I don't care. I don't give a fuck about any of it as I watch them.
Lynx's tanned arm caught around her waist, holding her flush against his hard, tall body. Her cheeks are flushed, high along her cheekbones, a bloom of pink bright on her pale skin. Her eyes are wide but hooded, thick fans of mascara coated lashes fluttering over her unusual colored lilac-gray eyes. My cell is still in her hand, the flashlight still bright, beam of it pointed at their feet.
I can't take my eyes off of them. Everyone else is moving around them, dancing, drinking, grinding. Leaving them in the center as though they're in an invisible bubble.
Impenetrable.
I want to burst through it.
This insatiable need to get between them, my brother, this… girl.
I want to fucking devour her.
I feel Hendrix when he slinks up beside me, moving silently, the both of us protected in shadows in the entrance to the basement. No one is paying us any attention, not with the position we shield ourselves in. Surveying the room. The people. Specificallythem.
Lynx speaks soft words over Poppy's parted lips, her chest rising and falling in dramatically fast movements. Her breasts lifting, lifting, lifting, and then she exhales and her spine bows and her free hand moves unconsciously, clinging onto the soft cotton collar of Lynx's black shirt, fisting it in her purple painted fingers.
“I want to fuck him whilst he fucks her,” Rex says almost dreamily beside me, his bare arm brushing mine as his chest inflates with his deep inhale, an unlit spliff clenched delicately between his thin pink lips.
It's a familiarity, that. The way we can touch, look at each other, be there for one another. We've been together since we were so young.
Rex and I have lived next door to each other our whole lives. We were born only three weeks apart and have been inseparable ever since. So when Lynx moved in with me at the age of nine, along with his mom and his older brother. It felt only too natural for the two of us, Rex and I, to welcome Lynx into our circle.
We went through a few rough years. Lynx's dad was gone, his mom distraught. All of them trying to rebuild a life.
These guys aren't only my best friends. They're my brothers in every sense of the word. We don't need to share DNA to love each other.
I grunt in response, my dick growing hard, all of my blood rushing south so quickly it gives me headrush.
“She's a pretty thing,” I murmur, watching her body bow into Lynx, all of her soft, pale flesh melding into his hard, tanned body.
Rex adjusts himself, hand over his erect cock, his arm flexes against mine as he squeezes it through his sweatpants.
“Real pretty,” Rex agrees, licking his lips, my gaze on our friend with Poppy, but I hear him wet his lips. “I don't want no one else looking at her,” he says then, something thick and feral in his tone.
I'm already nodding, unable to tear my eyes from the pair as Poppy drops her gaze, Lynx presses his mouth to the underside of her jaw.
Fuck me.
Unsure why I'm even staring, there are plenty of beautiful girls in this room. Lots of them. Some of them I've even sampled. I'm on the hockey team, I'm good looking, have money.
Power.
Maybe I'm just excited to see someone new. But unbeknown to the general population of Groveton, I'm no fuckboy. I could fuck myself into a coma if I really wanted to, women would lineup at my feet like they're there for a holy fucking communion, but it's not me. I'm not interested in that. I want to build a connection with something,someone,that isn't going to force a wedge between me and my boys.
And for some reason, this quickly, less than hours of meeting, I have something weaving its way through my chest at the thought of her.
I have a strange draw to this girl with unusual eyes. Thick hair that hangs too close to their rare color, hiding them from me, like her bangs are a personal affront. Still, I stare at her, color sitting high in her cheeks, parted lips a natural red,climbing ink of fine lined flowers and leaves and vines crawling all over her exposed skin. I swallow down the strange feeling in my throat. The foreign ache in my chest.
