Page 37 of Cruel Titan

Asher: I’m at the party if you want to come and thank me properly.

I slide on a pair of jeans and T-shirt, just in case it’s a trick and he is in the garage. But he shouldn’t have even been able to get into the garage since Nathan changed the codes and locks on everything. Sliding on my flip-flops, I attempt to walk quietly, but it’s a losing battle as they slap against the marble floor. Slipping out the back door, I hurry to the garage before slowly opening the side door. No one is in the garage. There’s a soft glow from the lamp, but everything looks okay.

Sucking in a deep breath, I make my way over to the Corvette. The neglected vehicle has seen much better days, and I can totally relate as the driver door squeaks open.

There’s a photograph sitting on the driver’s seat. The image floors me as I study a 1960 Corvette, same as my car but in immaculate condition. The people sitting in the car … my dad in the driver’s seat while Candace sits in the other, smiles beaming from both of their faces.

Flipping the picture over, I see the words Was he really doing it for you? The word you is underlined several times. Flipping it back over, I examine the car while thinking about the question. Why would my dad want to rebuild this car? Why was it my favorite? Sifting through my mind, I search to remember when I started loving the car. I loved it because he loved it. He always said he’d love to have a ’60 Corvette to cruise around in, and I fell in love with the thought. But according to him, he’d never owned one.

Out of the million horrible thoughts going through my mind, the only one I can latch onto is Asher. He has once again taken a piece of my dad away from me. I only have happy memories revolving around fixing up the Corvette. Was any of it real, or was it all some ploy for Candace? He was in the recent pictures with her. Had they rekindled their disastrous romance or was he just hoping to?

One thing is for certain, I’m not hiding this time. I eye the slip of paper Asher had left in the Corvette after he’d gotten it running—against my wishes. I read the note once again. It’s ready when you are.

“I’m good and fucking ready right now.”

30

Asher

Elliot passes me another shot. I down it, tossing the empty glass back to him, and refuse the next one when he offers. I’ve had way more than I should, especially since I just twisted her reality again. But she needs to know. Sometimes the people that treat you the best are the ones that don’t give a shit about you … or they at least have deep, hidden motives for everything they do.

Blinking, I think I’m hallucinating when I spot Quinn heading my way. The reason I think I’m seeing things is because she’s smiling at me. Why would she be smiling? Maybe she is a mirage.

“Hey,” she whispers, pulling me to her as she swipes her tongue over my lips before greedily kissing me. Mirage or not, I’m too drunk to refuse her. Then again, I wouldn’t refuse her in any state of mind, so I’ll just relish how good she feels against me right now. Moving to whisper in my ear, she purrs, “Let’s go upstairs.”

She’s real. I don’t care why she’s here. I’m just glad she showed up. I’ll enjoy any sliver of herself she offers, my craving for her has passed the point of being an obsession.

I follow her as she grips my hand, leading me up the kitchen staircase and down the hallway. Pushing the last door on the right open, we step into a room that is way too familiar, but the thought is lost as she guides me back to sit in an oversize leather chair. Climbing on my lap, she straddles me, her lips returning to mine as her hands fumble with the hem of my T-shirt before lifting it over my head. I cling to her, not wanting to feel her pull away even when it’s to discard my shirt as she tosses it to the floor then smooths her hands over my shoulders, her fingers digging into my muscles as she rocks against me.

My hands grip the side of her head, fingers entwining in her hair as her fingers move to the waistband of my pants. Feeling her against me, eagerly encouraging me to touch her again sends me into an impatient fury. I need to be inside her. I want to feel her let go; I want her to allow me to show her how good we can make each other feel, and fuck, she makes me feel so good, unlike anyone else ever has. I go to lift her shirt, but she scoots off of me, pulling me up to follow.

“Let’s go on the balcony.” She opens the door, leading me out into the night air before turning and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Kissing her clumsily in my inebriated state, I move her back until she’s pressed against the stone railing. I don’t care where we are—I just want to be with her, in her, fucking her until she comes on my dick and then wrap her naked body against mine until morning.

Her arms slide from my shoulders and she turns, her back pressing against me as I use my tongue to tease her neck, and she grinds her ass against my rock-hard cock. I need her. And not just for one and done, but for so much more that I’m too scared to admit it to myself, even in my drunken state.

“You’re right. The view really is sweet up here.” She points out to the field where two fires rage instead of just the one. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust and comprehend as people whoop and holler around the blazing fires.

“What the hell?” The Corvette. Her car is engulfed in flames. My eyes stay glued to the raging inferno as I try to understand what I’m witnessing as I listen to her calm, calculated words.

“It’s the anticipation, the moment you want to let yourself believe the best is yet to come. Believing that the person might actually have a heart, but you realize you were played once again. It really makes you feel like you’re caught with your pants down, standing with a hard dick that won’t find a happy ending.”

“Quinn …" I whisper, trying to gather my cloudy thoughts.

“I guess this means I’m ready,” she says, sliding out of my grip, backing away from me as she smirks.

“You set your car on fire?” Glancing back, I see the fire still raging as I watch in shock. I knew it wouldn’t go over well but I didn’t expect her to set the damn car on fire. And then watch it burn with amusement. That car meant so much to her and she just torched it, smiling as it burns.

“You sent it up in flames with your little picture, I just lit the match to finish it off. Thanks for taking yet another piece of my soul away.”

“I’m—”

“What, ‘sorry’? Are you going to beg me to forgive you again? Or maybe you want me to beg you to fuck me. Or is it that you want to take something else that I cherish and throw it into the pit of hell? Maybe you’re angry, or feel like giving me another riddle, or the worst possibility … be the sweet guy who makes me feel safe, protected, at home in a place where I didn’t think I’d ever belong … that sweet guy who makes me think maybe someday you’ll give me a reason to trust you, but that guy lies about loving me instead. Which one is it going to be today, Asher?”

“I don’t know because I’m all those things, except a liar.” And I want to be so much better than those things but as hard as I try, I always manage to screw something up.

“No … that’s your best performance out of them all, so don’t take that one away. Just find someone else to convince you’re worth the trouble, because I won’t fall for it again.”

She calmly backs away, stepping back inside the house. I follow, catching up to her, and lightly grasp her arm, swinging her to face me. “There will never be someone else. It’ll always be you. Just you.” And I need her. I need her to challenge me. I need her to call me on my shit. I need her to set my world on fire, to let me know when I’m pushing too hard, and this time, I might’ve done just that because her smile is now replaced with an emotionless stare. No anger. No defiance. Just a blank stare that I can’t read.