Green Light

by Jescie Hall

“Swallow me whole. You’ve done it before, now do it again so I can watch.”

“Swallow,” I instruct slowly, lowering my tone.

“Fuck Wes.” I slam her neck back into the fridge, and the back of her head bounces against it. “Do not say that goddamn name in this house or around me ever again. Next time, I’ll send one through his skull instead of his siding.”

“He’ll never in his lifetime be able to fuck you the way you crave. He couldn’t dream of sending those pretty little whiskey eyes to the back of your head like I’ve seen. He can’t make you scream for mercy, tear apart blankets between your teeth, claw flesh open beneath your nails, or beg like a whore in heat for some sort of saving the way you do when your stepbrother is inside of you.” She looks

“Admit it, he’s just a stand-in,” I say before licking up the side of her face, sampling her delectable taste.

“I loved you!” I seethe. “Far more than that piece of shit you call a mother ever could. You're stupid to hold out for scraps of love when I offered you everything! Everything!” My hand shakes as my rage consumes me.

I would’ve done anything for you, Montana. Given you the fucking world. I would’ve ended them all. Slowly drained each and every one of them of their blood before you. But there's no coming back. You created this man, the one incapable of forgiving. Incapable of living without pain. The one that needs to see you suffer for stripping me of my soul.”

“Then take it out on me,” she offers, swallowing beneath my hold. “Take what you need to, Shane. If you need to destroy my future prospects, then do it. Burn every instrument I bring home, showcase to the world how you fucked your sister on camera. If that’s what you need, then fucking ruin me.”

“I’d always imagined holding you in this way.” He squeezes the flesh in his large palms, kneading my heavy breasts. He’s looking at me from beneath his visor, but my eyes are the only ones I see.

“The dreams I’d had of roping this neck…” He slowly trails down my sternum, between my breasts, carving the line of my abdomen and stopping before reaching my navel. “I wanted to own you. To claim you. To mark you as mine.”

Heavy breaths slip from my lips, and I peer up at his helmet. His hand travels lower, knuckles grazing my swollen clit, rubbing soft circles and sweeping his fingers into the fabric of my shorts.

“I wanted to hurt you.” I suck in a shaky breath, feeling that fear only he can produce. “Hurt me?” “Yeah,” he answers softly. “I wanted to wrap my hands around your neck and watch as the life slipped from your body, burying you as deep as you’d buried me.” I shudder at his claim.

“Open,” he growls, and I open my eyes to find myself reflected back.

White cum coats me, the combination of our arousal sliding down my neck to my breasts. He licked his own cum out of me, then spit it all over my chest. I wanted to own you. To claim you. To mark you as mine. I swallow, catching my breath, trying to analyze what just happened—the orgasm denial, the degrading act…pure evil with zero remorse.

He nudges his chin, persistent in his endeavors. “Get on,” he demands. “It’s time to parade my fuck toy around town.”

I hate that I love her anger, that I need it to fuel me. But when it comes to her, I just need some form of emotion in whatever capacity I can get it to survive. The part of myself I want to deny is the part that aches for her again. While slow and nearly unmoving, that steady heartbeat lies dormant in my chest, needing the opportunity to rage all its own. I continuously hate myself for loving any version of her I’ve been given.

I should do it. I should drive us off this bridge right now, our bodies falling helplessly to a demise so set in stone. I should end the turmoil. The need to continuously drag her down into the dirt alongside me. The inability to strip myself of this hatred I’ve harbored. I can’t ever seem to eradicate her from my bones. I can’t ever let her get too far from me again. The ability to control our destiny is within my grasp, and it’s giving me a sense of power I lost so many years ago.

Maybe we’ll find each other in another life. But maybe we won’t. That simple idea is the only thing keeping me from veering off this road into a tragically beautiful death. We’re so close. So close to getting it all right. I’m living a life of maybes. Holding out hope for the glimmer of a person I want—a person I need—to exist.

“Shane,” she whispers against my lips between kisses. “The people here…” “Fuck ‘em,” I mutter, capturing her lips again, finding myself needing this too. “Fuck them all.”

I did this. I created this person. Ruthless and thirsty for violence and pain; whichever he can get his hands on first.

“I wanted him to touch you, just like the men before him. I hunger for hands on you and your body. I long for it, so I can fucking obliterate them for touching what’s so clearly mine,” he whispers. He straightens so we’re face to face. The backs of his fingers gently caress my cheekbone. “Will you forgive me?”

She’s never looked more mine.

“Every story told has the potential to withhold truth, and yet, every conspiracy has the capability to hold weight. It's up to the minds of the mad to imagine the unimaginable in order to save the naivety of the sane.”

“Don’t play games with a guy like me. I’ll fuck you right here on this bike in the middle of the intersection. Let the traffic watch as I destroy that pretty pussy.”

“Are we to hide our past simply because it isn’t pretty? Should we not wear our scars as badges of honor, proudly flaunting them in the faces of those who’ve led a life lacking real pain? Real grit?”

“You,” she whispers back. “You are the darkness that I want to wear proudly.”

“We’ve hurt each other so many times,” I say. “Tormented adoration…will it ever end?” Shaking her head, Montana regards me with a look of understanding laced with some darker. Deeper. “Not today.”

“You gonna be a good boy for me?” I ask, rolling my hand up the soft, taut flesh. “The best boy.” He swallows. “I’ll be whatever you want as long as I’m yours.”

“I’ll destroy every aspect of whatever new life you try to fit into, forcing my way into your nightmares if I must. You can’t leave me. You can’t…leave…”

“I want to touch you. I need to feel you, but I know you need this,” he groans, his abdomen tightening as I roll my hips against his again. “Take from me. Use me as your fuck toy. Make me yours, Montana.”

He hums. “That’s my girl, get it wet.”

“Take it all back,” he whispers, “Your power. What they took from you. Take it back.”

“Seeing my pretty girl with a gem in her ass made me jealous as fuck.” I slide my finger deeper, then slowly retract it, loving the view from back here. “I wanted to stick my cock in there. All tight and warm, ready to choke my dick out. I wanted to fuck your ass senseless.”

“But I’m fucking insane, and jealousy would have had me slitting my friend’s throat. I used to hope for the opportunity to see someone touch you, catch you in the act with your little fake boyfriend just so I could fuck you over his warm, dead body. I’ve imagined your tight little ass wrapped around my dick while staring into Wesley’s dead, dried-out eyes.”

“Whatever fractures of a heart I have left are yours, Montana,” I say, pressing the tip to her awaiting hole.

His violent nature, addictive tendencies, endless jealousy, and loathsome behavior are all a storm of chaos that would lead any normal, right-minded person astray. But his chaos calls to mine.

“I’ve always loved you,” he whispers back, barely moving his mouth. “Refuse to let you go.”

“You’re the dirtiest little moth I’ve ever seen.” My smile widens at the reminder of last night. My hatred of butterflies.