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The last thing I saw before they disappeared was the fluttering open of Jolie’s eyes, her striking aquamarine stare meeting mine for a fraction of a second and boring straight into my soul, before her lids fell shut again as she vanished out the door and out of our lives forever.
I hadn’t been back since that night. And I couldn’t wait to watch it all burn.
But I hadn’t anticipated the draw that still pulled me toward those unfeeling bastards, the familiarity and the little hints of the boys I knew still there, and it was messing with my head.
Zach was fucking beautiful. His olive-toned skin was covered in colorful tattoos, sleeves of geometric patterns wrapping around his biceps and spreading across his broad, defined chest. The light caught the muscles in his torso just right, highlighting every ridge of his eight-pack and the deep V-cut of his Adonis belt before it disappeared into his shorts.
“It really is too bad, all these rules,” Zach went on, still purring in my ear as he held me. “Otherwise, I’d love to see how these hips move while you’re writhing on my cock.”
But there’s probably something deep inside them that just has some sort of instinctual connection to you.”
That night, I dreamed of young Bennett, Zach, and Noah once again, but this time, I was the one with the gun and the blood on my hands.
I smothered the possessive beast that tried her rear her head inside of me over that bitch touching one of my boys—because they weren’t mine and hadn’t been for a long time.
“Yes,” he rasped. “Say my fucking name when you come. Forget everything else. There is nothing else except my fingers in your pussy and my name on your lips.”
And then Bennett Spencer, the boy I used to build blanket forts with and chase around the house with a plunger that I claimed was a sword, the boy I used to goad into a temper tantrum over games of Monopoly and slumber peacefully next to in a sleeping bag on the floor of his living room, dragged from me the very first orgasm I’d ever had that wasn’t by my own hand.
Those aquamarine eyes met mine one last time, and they shone with so much righteous anger, so much defiance, and so much power, that I didn’t know whether to be frightened, enraged, or turned the fuck on.
