Tryst Six Venom (Tryst Six, #1)

by Penelope Douglas

I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m always thinking about her. I just want her out of my head.

What was I supposed to do? Just let her go? Just stop?

I want to cry, I’m so happy. This is all I want. Everything I want. I don’t want to ever do anything else. Cheering fills my ears, she rolls on top of me, and I don’t see anything but her. I only feel her.

She’s better than a drug. I always knew she had it in her.

“If you ever come near me again,” Olivia grits through her teeth in the chair next to mine, “I will cut you.” I look over at her. The orange juice she threw at me stains her white Polo, too. But I almost smile, seeing the tear in her

I clutch the arms of the chair for support as she pulls us face to face, and I harden my jaw, looking into her eyes. The dark brown lights up with flecks of gold as she glares at me, and I can smell the peaches in her long black hair. My heart pounds so hard. Yes. Like a fucking drug. She stares at me with fury, and I brace myself for impact when I know I should pull away. But I don’t want her to let me go. It took so long to get us here. I hate Olivia Jaeger. I fucking hate her, and I’d happily never love anything if I could hate her my whole life. My eyes pool with tears, and I don’t know why.

I hate Olivia Jaeger. I fucking hate her, and I’d happily never love anything if I could hate her my whole life.

Bitter but beautiful, like Valium on my tongue. That’s what she’s like.

I can’t look at her, but I see everything. She stops moving and lets her head fall, both of us breathing in sync. Quiet and alone, but so crowded.

“You’re not scared of Tryst Six?” She fixes her lip gloss in the mirror, extra red against her black shirt and black hair. “Well, I’m not scared of you, baby. Do what you will. Leave it up—forever if it gets you off.” She turns and looks at me. “Every degrading comment and joke is for your pleasure, so enjoy it.”

But I’m lost. She’s holding me, and I’m lost. She’s not leaving. Not in six months. Not ever!

My mouth rests open, the need to feel her overtaking me. I can’t . . . I can’t . . . I can’t stand it. I touch her mouth. I layer my lips with hers—grazing, brushing, inhaling as she stops breathing and I just feel her and feel every inch of my body suddenly burn like a firework about to pop. And then, all at once, we’re in the shit.

I can’t stand it. I touch her mouth.

I lick her tongue and groan, kissing her hard and fierce and closing my eyes, because everything is spinning, and my body is on a roller coaster. I’m fucking flying right now.

I brush her nipple, and my clit throbs. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she whispers, shaken. “Are you kidding me right now?” I know, all right? I know. I wasn’t afraid. I was . . . Jealous. I’ve wanted this since we were freshmen, that first day we met, before the fighting started. And when I knew she liked me, I was so happy, but . . .

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she whispers, shaken. “Are you kidding me right now?” I know, all right? I know. I wasn’t afraid. I was . . . Jealous. I’ve wanted this since we were freshmen, that first day we met, before the fighting started. And when I knew she liked me, I was so happy, but . . . Ashamed. Tears spike my eyelashes, even with as happy as I am right now. I was so ashamed.

I’m aching for this. I don’t want to let her go. But she doesn’t let me. “No,” she bites out in a whisper. Her mouth crashes down on mine again, and I can’t fight. I hold her head, soaking up how soft she is. How beautiful she smells and how hot her mouth is. I barely notice as she lifts up my skirt and yanks down my panties just enough to bare my sex, but then she fiddles with her own clothes

“Ugh!” I cry out as she goes at me. I’m consumed. This is what it feels like. This is what right feels like. It was always wrong before. Kissing someone. Letting them touch me. I never had that burn low in my belly.

I’m consumed. This is what it feels like. This is what right feels like. It was always wrong before. Kissing someone. Letting them touch me. I never had that burn low in my belly. I was never hungry. Until her.

I was never hungry. U...

At least there’s this. I thought hating her was enough. If I couldn’t have this, at least I had her attention. Even if it was bad.

her legs so hard not to look at. The way she rolls her skirt up, and I can’t pay attention in calculus. I hate it all. How every part of her looks like it has a taste.

I hate it all. How every part of her looks like it has a taste.

“God,” I pant. She hovers over my mouth. “Come to my shitty house tonight,” she demands. “Sweat with me between the sheets?” I nod. “Yeah.”

“Come to my shitty house tonight,” she demands. “Sweat with me between the sheets?” I nod. “Yeah.”

I want to sneak out. Into a dark place with Olivia Jaeger and d...

“Don’t cross the tracks.”

She’s rescinding her invitation for Night Tide, I guess. Lucky for her, I love getting on her bad side.

But really, I was just angry. Jealous. I want her, I can’t have her, and I’m angry that I can’t have her. So I take it out on her.

“Every woman has her secrets, Clay,” she tells me. “We all have our sins, and I’m not special. You can have whatever you want, as many times as you want, for however long you want.” She nudges my chin again. “As long as it stays a secret.”

“Refusing yourself the things you need to feel alive only brings two consequences: detriment or death. We would break.”

“As long as it stays secret,” she points out again. Yes. “That is the price, I’m afraid.” I nod once. I can live with that. As long as I can have her. Thank you, Mimi.

I loosen my hold on Iron, thinking about holding on to her instead. She’d fit perfectly.

She thinks it was a ploy. Kissing her in the locker room. She doesn’t think it was real for me.

“You wanted to know what was on the Bay list?”

“Only one thing,” she teases, a wicked smile playing on her mouth. “You.” Me? What? What the hell is she doing?

“I’ve been paying since the day I met you,” she retorts. “It’s about time I enjoy it.”

Clay is an extension of everything wrong with St. Carmen. How they bully us. Take from us. Shame us. Keep us poor and ignorant and pregnant, breeding more servants for them.

“You’re right,” he tells her. “All we have is anger. And it is not without its uses.”

“Money is power. But do you know what’s more valuable? Secrets.” He jostles her. “Secrets are power, honey. There’s a reason we’ve survived here, keeping the wolves at bay as long as we have.” He gets in her face. “We may be your maids and your dishwashers and your pool boys, but we’re always there. For smart, you’re really good at stupid.”

Her shoulders shake, and I don’t know why, but it’s killing me inside. I’d rather suffer a million of Clay’s snake bites than see her shrink.

“Stay away from her or else.” “Or else what?” she fires back. “You going to take another video of us? Well, enjoy yourself, because when she graduates, and I go to college in New York in the fall—oh, did she tell you about Dartmouth? As luck would have it, we’ll be that close to each other . . .” And she gets in my face, taunting me. “And then I can fuck her every weekend where you can’t get a hold of her.” My eyes go wide, burning. “We’ll be gone, and we’ll laugh about how sad you were.” She laughs. “Or are.”

“You don’t deserve her attention,” she says, “and pretty soon she won’t think of you at all!”

“Shut up,” I say, tears welling in my eyes, because I know I’m losing. I’m going to lose her forever. “Her team spots her. Do you understand?” And then I lower my voice, pressing my forehead into hers hard. “I spot her. If I have to repeat myself again, I will do damage you can’t come back from. She is seventeen, a minor, and . . .” Mine.

Megan doesn’t deserve her. And Liv doesn’t get to have someone. She doesn’t get to forget about me.

“In the dirt is where you belong!” she spits out. “You’ve never been uglier to me.

I know she’s right. The walls close in, and sometimes I feel like I want to die. “That money and that house doesn’t make you clean,” she says. “It just provides a shield of defenders who are only there because they hope to get something out of you. They don’t love you. No one loves you!”

She’s been there almost four years. She’s all of a sudden realizing she doesn’t fit?

“Because you want to touch me,” I tell her. She scoffs, tears glistening in her eyes. “Is that what this is about?” she inquires. “Don’t think what happened in the locker room was real, just because I kissed you back. I was angry and full of a lot of steam to blow off, and pretty much in fucking shock, too, but I don’t want you, Clay.” No? “You’re like vanilla,” she says. “I mean, yeah, it’s ice cream, but it’s not really an option when there are other choices that taste better.”

“Don’t say that,” I whisper. “Why?” “Because I can’t . . .” I don’t know how to explain. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” I don’t want you. I can’t want you. It’s just . . . So I say the only thing that I do know for sure. “I can’t leave you alone,” I tell her. That’s all I know. I need to feel it again. My hair falls in my face, but I can smell the remnants of her watermelon lip gloss. “Ask me to touch you.” Please. I want her to want me to touch her. I won’t force her like last time. Ask me.