Page 90 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Kelsey enters the green room with Jasper behind her. She has her hands full with a dozen bags. And so does he.

I put my lyric book and her journal back in my bag while she directs him in stacking all her new things in a pile to be taken to the bus later.

“Wow.” Golden goes to meet her. He takes her hand and lifts it above her head. “Twirl, Special K.”

The others sit up too, like alert dogs with their tongues hanging out. I snap my notebook shut.

She’s not poor, miserable Kelsey that Bronx brought back to us like a lost, wounded animal. She’s not my Candy Head, with her dark hair and rockstar look.

She spins around slowly for us. Gives us an eyeful of the bohemian inspired white crochet mini dress, the black-cherry knee highs with their killer spikes at the back. All topped off with hair that reminds me of the cherries that come in cocktails sometimes. Now that it’s dried and styled, the brightness of it draws me in like moths to flames.

I want to run my fingers through it. I want to put my nose to her neck and see if she smells as much like a cherry as I imagine she does. Because my girl would.

But she isn’t mine, and no amount of nostalgia will change that. She’s keeping secrets, still lying to me. I can’t trust her. If I ever could. Not as long as she won’t even admit that she stole from us.

Bronx and Kodiak gush over her new look. They say all the complimentary things that she should be told when she goes to sit with them on the couch even though there’s more room on the one I am occupying by myself.

Golden has her on his lap, her back to his chest. He’s playing with her hair. “This hair is fucking sexy, Special K. Seriously. I love it.”

Bronx reaches across him to pick her up by her waist and plant her sideways on his lap. His lips find her shoulder. His eyes darken.

“What are you doing?” She giggles.

He locks gazes with me. “Seeing if you smell like a cherry.”

He remembers then. Prick.

She cocks her neck to give him better access. “And do I?”

“Mm,” he hums. “Edible.”

She squeezes her thighs together for him, but it’s me she finds with her gaze before Kodiak steals her attention by helping her to straddle him. When she puts her hands on his chest he says, “But do you taste like a cherry, Scary Girl. That is the question?”

The couch drags on the floor when I get up fast enough to make my head spin. Stalking over to them, I ring her throat with my hand and tip her head up.

I lose my breath in her wanton gaze. The tip of her tongue scrapes over her lips when they part.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I lean over her and capture her mouth, thrusting my tongue inside to savor her. I devour her while she sits in his lap. She doesn’t taste like cherries, but she’s sweet and tart and fucking receptive.

The delicate muscles in her throat work against my palm as she takes my kiss like she’s desperate for it. A whimper escapes her as she starts to wriggle on Kodiak’s lap.

He groans. “Fuck.”

Since they’re not listening to me when I tell them to stay away from her, perhaps they’ll do better if I stop trying to keep her from them and instead take control of a little group bonding.

We can use her together until we’re all done with her.

I break off the kiss long enough to turn to Bronx. “You want to touch her?”

He nods.

I stare into her eyes. “You want him to touch you?”

“Yes,” her breathy voice is full of hunger.

“Look at him and tell him,” I order.

She turns to him. “I want you to touch me.”