||Pius||
PRESENT DAY!
I throw my head back, relishing in the pleasure she's giving me. She licks the tip of my cock and swirls her tongue in a circular motion, playing with my foreskin. God, her mouth feels good wrapped around my length. She bobs her head up and down, taking me all the way to behind her throat. I arch my hips, gyrating them with my hands placed on her head.
This is torture at its best. Pleasure I never knew existed. Pleasure I never experience before and trust me, I've had my fair share of daily conquest.
She's different. I like different. I need different in my life.
She takes me deep again.
And again.
"Jesus!!!" I groan trembling under her heavenly torture. I fist the bed sheets, twisting them as a loud animalistic-like moan escapes my mouth.
God, if she doesn't stop...
My breathe hitches bringing all my thinking to an instant halt.
"Baby if you don't stop now," I breathe. "Then I'll come in your mouth."
She doesn't stop. She continues with her celestial torment...
And suddenly I'm woken by the familiar irritating shrieking noise. I jolt upright with my weight propped on my elbows.
"You're fucking kidding me?" I gasp breathlessly with sweat covered on my forehead.
I slam the stupid alarm—harbinger of my precious log Z's—off the bedside table with a frustrated groan. Stupid thing. Waking me up from my sleep when things were just getting cozy with its beep-beeping. Beep-beep my foot.
I rest my head back on the pillow, exhaling heavily. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a suggestive measure, clearly implying my frustration or discomfort.
I can't believe this. Not again? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does it have to be her? There are thousands of girls in these place I can have wet dreams about, but it'd to be her. The one person I hate because of...
Pius don't go there... something warns me.
Sighs.
And then I feel it. My black Calvin Klein boxers covered in my semen.
You better be fucking kidding me. She made me come in my boxers? I can't believe this. I close my eyes and throw my head back, growling into the pillow pressed against my face.
The question that has been bugging me keeps coming back, again and again. Why her? Why does it have to be her? Couldn't it be some other hot chick with blue eyes or something? Even having a wet dream about Natasha—my non-exclusive shag-mate who is apparently in love with me—wouldn't be such a bad idea, but it had to be about a certain brown beauty giving me a head. The exact same one whose life I made it my lives mission to disintegrate. Why? Because I hate the damn bitch. Because she's black. Because I loathe people of my opposite skin color. Okay, not exactly all, just a certain unwanted parasites who keep invading my dreams, giving me exquisite BJ's.
Even if I don't want to admit it, she's undeniably gorgeous blessed with the right amount of everything from her curvaceous body to her perfectly sculpted lips.
If I could only have her...
Wait, what? Am I losing my mind? What the hell was that all about? She can be how dazzling, but the feeling remains the same? The hatred doesn't change for anything or...
"STOP!!!" I shout to end the train of my thoughts. I can't be having questions now because everything is already set in stone. Isn't that the reason I did all the things I did to her for the past years, because she broke me. Because she wanted to see me breaking. Aren't I just repaying the debt? Aren't I...
"God, this is getting annoying." I growl, getting myself off the bed. I enter the en-suite bathroom to take a quick shower. I turn on the shower and step into it, letting the cold water remedy my status quo otherwise known as the throbbing boner I'm harboring. A soft smile grows on my lips, thinking about the little charmer also known as my nine year old brother—coming today— enjoying healing effect of the cascading cold water, washing away the undesirable images of certain individuals.
I'm taking him to the aquarium— having a bro's day out—to finish his environmental studies project on aquatic life. I haven't seen the little prick ever since he moved to my grandparents. Can't believe it has been two weeks already without seeing him. According to my grand-folks, I apparently need all the time I can get to concentrate on my final exams and with Xavier around it would be hard juggling my studies and taking care of him at the same time.
I love my little brother too much. I'll die where he dies. It has been the two of us since we lost our mom and it'll remain like that for eternity. He's my lifeline. My heart stops where his does. I might sound melodramatic but it's just the truth. That's why I didn't want him to move, because I couldn't conceive the notion of him not around. I don't trust no one with him. Not even my grandparents, but he convinced me otherwise and there was no way I could say no. The little bastard has a way with words. His intellect is beyond his nine years. Something that sometimes makes me wonder if he really is my small brother comparing our intellectual prowess. Don't mistake me, I'm no dimwit but Xavier sometimes makes me feel like one though.
I turn off the shower and step out of it. I drape a towel around my waist and take another one to dry my hair before I enter back into my room and change into clean clothing.
I get into ripped black skinny jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt and go downstairs.
The house has a dark interior with modern dark palettes and luxury interior designs. There is a nice casual L-shaped couch situated in the center with soft neutrals that define it and the sitting area, whereas the attached dining room takes a risk with stark industrial accents. The matte black walls feel powerful but don't drown out the more subtle brown tones used throughout.
The floor to ceiling glass doors that gives a sight of the outside accentuates the traverse of the interior.
The sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, as I take my last step descending down the stairs.
A frown grows on my face looking at the time. It's only few minutes past eight.
Already?
When I pull the door open, Xavier's megawatt canine smile is the first thing I see which also makes me smile. He runs towards me and wraps his small arms around my waist.
"Pi!" He screams jovially.
Okay. He meant Pi as in Pius not the mathematical symbol Pi, which equals three-point-one-four-something-something that the mathematicians came up with. And don't even think for a second that I approbate the damn name, because I damn well don't. But they call me by that thing because it kicks me off my equilibrium and knocks my sanity off its radar by a million.
I roll my eyes and hold back myself from saying anything that might ruin the moment. So, instead I do the one thing I know he hates.
"Hey." I say quietly, ruffling his hair, making it messy, you know the way you do it to your four year old son. Not that I have son or anything. God, forbid. I might be a father-lish-brother figure to Xavier but no.
"Pius how many times do I have to tell you not to do that? I'm a big boy you know." He looks up at me, giving me his boyish pout.
"And how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? I hate it you know." I return the same boyish pout.
He cocks his head to the side, with a conspiratorial naughty grin and says, "Can't help it. It has got a nice ring to it and I kind of like it because it pisses you off."
"Hey, watch your language young man. He's still your big brother." My grandmother—Eunice Starke—chimes in with a smile, entering the house. I kiss my brother on his head and maneuver him out of the way, giving my grandmother a hug.
"Hey grams." I greet smilingly.
"Hey my boy. How are you? How has everything been? Where's your father?" She rattles down in one breathe.
"Eunice, one question at a time darling." My grandfather—George Starke—admonishes his wife jokingly, giving me playful wink.
"Oh, sorry. Couldn't help it darling."
"How're you doing champ?" My grandfather smiles warmly.
"Fine, I guess. Uhhmm, weren't you guys only supposed to come sometime after ten or something?" I ask, ushering everyone into the house. I close the door behind them.
"Oh, your brother wanted to see you and you know how convincing he can get when he wants something." My grandmother responds, taking a seat on the sofa.
She looks around the house and wrinkles her forehead in a questioning frown.
"Where's your father?"
My mood deflates immediately. As much as I love my father, I also hate him with equal measure because he left me and Xavier to fend for ourselves. If it wasn't for the money my mom left behind or our grandparents, I don't know what would've happened to us.
Losing my mom broke my dad. He cried himself to sleep every night and we heard it. Xavier was only six then and would come to my room every time and cry himself to sleep too. It was hard for me, watching my father and brother break apart, but I had to be the stronger one for all of us. We couldn't all be a crying mess. And even if I still miss her like crazy, I never cried. I never grieved her death like everyone in my family did, because I knew I would break. Instead, I resorted to sleeping around with girls, because drugs or anything in that line was never a choice. I'd to be better for my brother.
We found our father one day after school trying to commit suicide. He said and I quote, "If she's not here with me, why live? She was my better half and I just wanna forget the fact that she's gone and is not coming back. I need the gaping hole in my heart to just be gone." We were living in the mansion then. He used to say the house reminded him of her so much. It broke me to see him so broken. After that we decided to sell that house even though he was against it, and bought this one with the money we received from the sale.
My father never recovered even after we moved. When he stopped crying he took refuge in alcohol. Lost his job as a result of excessive alcohol consumption, skipping days of work. He was a brilliant lawyer, don't think otherwise. But after he began drinking he started losing important cases one after another, and as a result was fired. Now he just drinks day and night.
"I don't know. Probably in his room vomiting his ass out." I hiss in disgust.
My grandmother whips her head up and glower at me.
"Sorry." I say, knowing she gave me that look for my language.
"Was he drinking again?" My grandfather asks worried about his son.
"When is he not?" I scowl down at them both.
"Can we please change the subject? Please?" Xavier interjects seeing the look on my face.
I had to become the older one for the three of us at just mere fifteen years. I went through a lot of shit raising a six year old. My father would just drink himself to pulp every day, floundering in the house every night. I hate him. I hate him because he wasn't there for us when we needed him. I'll never forgive him for abandoning us.
"It's okay honey. Your grandpa and I have to quickly go into town and get some necessities. We'll pop in if we finish early. If not, no. Yeah?"
I just give them a dismissive shrug, before following them out towards the door, closing it behind them after we exchange good byes.
I turn around looking down at the floor with a distant stare, but shoot my head up immediately when I see Xavier's feet just inches away from me. I frown looking at his blank expression, tilting my head to the side, gesturing for him to say something.
He just stares back with his arms crossed over his chest and a cold facial expression I can't fathom.
"What?" I snap at him, getting annoyed.
"I know what you did." He says quietly.
My frown deepens, still puzzled.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't act stupid with me you idiot. You exactly know what I'm talking about?" he snarls.
"Idiot? Don't you—"
"How could you Pius?" He cuts me off with disbelieve and hurt laced in his voice.
My jaw instantly clenches on its own accord, as I take a step back. My breathing gets ragged. I fucken know what he's talking about. How the hell did he find out about that? How does he know? Only me and that... God, it was just a stupid once off mistake. I can't breathe. I can't stand the hurt I see in his eyes. I never want him to look at me with disdain and disappointment.
Why the fuck did he had to find out about that? No. It's not that. It can't be. My small brother can't possibly know I did something so outrageous.
I rake my hands through my hair with a sharp intake of air.
"Uhhmm... will you wait for me down here?" I ask him without making eye contact. "I left my wallet in my room. We'll go to the Dine Inn for breakfast first." I look at him hesitantly, before turning around and running up the stairs.
How the hell did he find out? How many people know what I did if he does?
I'm so fucked!
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A/N: Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to VOTE, share and leave a comment if you like the book so far. Will appreciate it.
Until next time!
-Stephen