The Bad Boy Wants Her [ COMPLETED ✓] | 18+

[ 13 ] one person

"Tristen, you're hurt."

I pull myself up. "I know." I mumble.

My shirt that wore was already torn so I dug my fingers into the biggest tear and pulled, tearing the entire shirt from my body. Her eyes fell down to my chest and I could already see she was breaking down.

"We shouldn't..." I hear her mumble as well but she's walking closer.

"I know." I reply. "But I don't care."

It doesn't take long for her to make it to me and it takes me less than a second to pull her on me. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer even as the bruises on my biceps ache. She catches my glimpse of pain and relaxes into my arms.

"Are you sure?" She whispers. I nod, approving as she reaches down at her shirt and pulls it over her head, leaving her defined large breast to my view. I glance down, loving the way she felt against me. It was natural. It was familiar. Her bright green eyes flicker to me and she smirks, seeing me check her out. She rocks in my lap and brings her lips to my ear. "I think you're too hurt for this, Tris." She sucks on my earlobe, gently nibbling on my skin.

I can feel all the blood in my body rushing to one particular part.

Fuck.

She pushes me down on the bed and climbs on me, her tanned skin glowing. I didn't even get much chance to speak with a rock hard dick situated in between her legs. And she doesn't seem to mind as she pulls my pants off and begins her work on me.

*****

For the past few days, the only two places I've been was my classes and Tracy's dorm room. Mostly her dorm, though. I skipped a few classes just to stay with her. I felt like shit to be totally honest. Every so often I would check my phone and think about texting her. But I couldn't. I was an asshole. She doesn't deserve an asshole.

I will admit, I consistently had sex with Tracy this week to try to forget about her. But it wasn't working. No one could carry the baggage that I drag. No one ever cared about me like she does. No one knew me inside and out. Only Tracy. Only she does. And that eats me up because I'm not good to her. I'm such a fucking asshole.

Today was Saturday and I was now at my place with a few beer bottles by my side, basking in my shitload of thoughts at 7 pm. I didn't want to stay here. I want to go out. I want to fight someone. I want to fuck someone. I don't even know anymore. I feel like I was literally all over the place. Not knowing where to go or who to speak too.

Fuck it.

I will settle for driving around, I guess.

I got up from the corner in which I sat and decided to get my shit together. I took a quick shower and dressed slowly. The bruises and swelling on my body had died down a bit but it still hurt like a motherfucker. I know I shouldn't be fighting but I don't even care anymore. I enjoy it. It helps me think. It helps me release my anger.

It was good for me.

I grab another beer from the pack and leave my place. I purposely lock the door and tuck the extra key, from our secret hiding spot, in my pocket.

A couple of days ago, Wes was drunk as shit and came to the apartment smelling like a skunk's ass and threw up everywhere. It was so fucking disgusting and that fucker didn't even clean it.

So he needed to be taught a lesson.

He never carries his actual key so I hope he feels like shit when he can't get in. I smirk to myself and continues down to my car.

I get in momentarily and begin my journey to God-knows-where.

*****

After about an hour or so of driving, I got a call from my friend, Duncan, inviting me to one of his lame bullshit parties. Nothing thrilling ever happens at his parties. They're boring. But seeing how I had nothing to do, I accepted his stupid invite and drove to the address he gave me.