The Dirty Anthology (7 page)

4

It’s normal that I want Lexi as much as I do, you know? She’s always been one of the nerds; no living, breathing guy with a functioning dick gives a fuck.

Lexi chose early on in the sixth grade to alienate herself from the popular kids in school. Back then, we’d called them every infantile name in the book. Nerds. Losers.

I say “we”, because thanks to my father’s social circle, I’d been drafted into the popular crew the moment I stepped foot in school.

Even back then, Lexi had been adorable. Round, blue-gray eyes. Full pink lips. Those big blond curls falling over her shoulders.

No wonder she grew up into what most guys at school have dubbed “the Destroyer.” Adorable isn’t the only adjective she can proudly claim. Her style isn’t particularly In-Your-Face sexy—something Kaylee and her clique love to tease Lexi about relentlessly—but nothing in the world can hide that type of attractiveness.

It’s blatant. Wild. Leaks into every part of her personality, so that just the sound of her breathing leaves you panting in response.

Watching her walk leaves you a throbbing, pre-coming mess.

Hearing her voice keeps you up all night, jacking off back to back, because you can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to hear her moan your name.

I’m sure you can guess the real reason Kaylee and all her friends despise Lexi. They know damn well that all the guys at school walk around in a haze of sexual fantasies, all thinking about the one girl that doesn’t even try to get their attention.

Nerds, emo-fucks, and jocks alike are ready to prostrate themselves at Lexi’s feet,
sans
clothing, if she would so much as smile in their direction.

Anger sparks at the thought. As always. I can’t deal with that reality. Hate ruminating on how all the other guys want her as much as I do. That shit drives me crazy in ways even my father can’t.

Pushing it all aside, I glance at the purple gift bag I’m holding as I walk into the gym.

It’s Lexi’s eighteenth birthday today.

I never forgot the day her birthday falls on. Not even after we were separated at ten.

I’m early, so I get busy turning on the lights in the back office. I place my book bag on the side table by the couch. Last second, I decide to hide the gift bag on the floor, behind the couch.

I want to surprise her.

Unzipping my bag, I pull out my advanced computer science textbook. Lexi thinks I’m failing that class.

I’m not.

Yes, I lied to her about that. Don’t think I’m not aware that I have more of my father in me than is healthy. Unlike my father, however, I am capable of feeling guilt.

And I do. Every day that she sneaks out of her house to come meet me, because she thinks I’m failing a subject that I’m actually passing.

With honors.

Why did I lie to her?

Why does anyone ever lie? Either because they’re trying desperately to get out of a situation, or because they want something so bad they’re willing to risk that age old threat of eternal hell to get it.

The opportunity presented itself, longing choked the ever-living fuck out of me, and I couldn’t fight the impulse to take it.

For years, I’d watched my old friend from afar, missing her. Knowing what my father had done to her family. I’d just wanted to have the right to talk to her again.

When that aforementioned opportunity popped up, no preternatural, Zeus-gifted willpower could have stopped me from taking it.

The door creaks open out in the hall. “Andrew?”

God—Nature—whatever the fuck is out there—what the hell did you do when you allowed that girl to come into existence?

Ungh
, that voice. I freeze on the spot, eyes closing.
Hating and savoring the heat that drums through my veins, pounding its way straight to my cock.

Her voice is how I imagine an ancient sex goddess’ voice would’ve been. If this is how the ancient Sumerians imagined that Inanna’s voice sounded, no wonder man eventually rose up and obliterated her legend.

No female, even a mythical one, should be allowed to have so much control over man.

It’s not an exaggeration, either. Every fucker at school goes glossy-eyed whenever Lexi so much as hums near them.

The perfect soft rasp; the epitome of the term “sex voice”. Every time she says my name, I die a little more inside.

“Andrew?”

Shit. I need to hear her moan for me—don’t care if it ends up being the death of me—and I can’t fucking have it.

One day I’m going to snap and take it anyway.

“Andrew, are you here?”

I clear my throat, sitting down on the sofa as fast as I can. My text book gets positioned just right, so that it covers my aching hard-on. “Yeah. I’m in here.”

Jesus, talk about rasps. My voice is straight up laden with sex.

I clear my throat again.

Three deep breaths, and I convince myself that I’m ready to face her. That, although my dick still throbs to the beat of her name, I’m well on my way to getting my reaction under control.

She stops in front of the door.

My entire world grinds to a halt.

Jesus.

Air . . . Can’t breathe . . . Motherfuck, this hurts.

My.

Fucking.

God
.

Son of a bitch.

Shit, I think I’m wheezing.

Legs.

Those breasts.

That hair.

The eyes.

Red lips.

Lexi all dolled-up—no, fuck that,
sexed-
up.

Like I’ve never seen her before.

It’s the hardest blow of my life.

And, it’s the exact moment in time I realize that girl
has
to be mine.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it ends up costing me.

Mine.

5

“H—hey,” Lexi murmurs softly, shifting from foot to foot.

Probably nervous because I’m staring at her like a brain-dead idiot.

My mind is the complete opposite of dead right now. Thoughts race, flying. Cataloging. Processing every delicious inch of what stands before me.

Lexi usually wears jeans. Button downs. Sensible cardigans. Converses, or boots in the winter.

None of that is in sight right now.

No, she isn’t naked. Lord in Heaven, I don’t think I’d survive seeing her without clothes.

I’m barely surviving what I’m seeing now.

That bright blue dress hugs everything. Tiny straps wrap around her shoulders, and the low cut, square neckline has a two-inch slit in the middle that clearly shows off her cleavage.

No way she’s wearing a bra under there.

Her cute little feet are encased in black flats.

I’d known she had a hot body, but fuck. Me.

That
body
.

I can’t fucking deal right now, and her face just makes it all so much worse. My heart pumps like crazy and I tell myself to look away.

I fail.

It’s bad.

I eat her up with my eyes. Those big blond curls I’m so fixated with frame her face, her shoulders, falling all the way down her back.

My heart punches hard against my ribcage again, angry at me for denying it what’s before me, for subjecting it to the sight of so much beauty.

Her eyes are highlighted by black eyeliner, framed by even darker, thick eyelashes. The look in them tells me that I’m doing it, I’m giving it all away, she can see how much I want her, clear as fucking day.

I can’t stop.

The same lips I dream of sucking on, stained by dark red lipstick, become so much more to me.

Those are the lips I breathe for.

The lips I’d kill for.

In the future, I will do wrong, dark, evil things for this girl. To myself and to others.

And those lips will be a big part of the reason why.

A wild, primitive hunger roars inside my gut, demanding its due. “Jesus, you look fucking beautiful,” I growl out, too lost in the affect she has on me to even try and hide how I feel right now.

Beastly.

Deranged.

Like I’m two seconds from picking her up and flinging her onto this couch, so I can pin her to it and rub my dick over every inch of her.

“Thank you,” she tells me, breathless.

That voice hits me like a lick across my cock. I force my body not to move a single fucking muscle, because if it does, it’s going to do what it wants to do and head straight to her.

Lexi steps into the office, hands fidgeting.

I’m making her nervous.

Shit, I’m making myself nervous. I have no clue what I’m going to do next, if I’ll be able to rein in my impulses. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Not that it’s any of my business, but the thought occurs to me that she might be dressed up like that because she’s planning on going out.

She looks like a girl would look when heading out on a date.

Fuck that. That shit
is
my business. “Why?” I demand again, ready to jump off the couch and block her way back out.

“I . . . some of my new friends convinced me to celebrate.”

I can tell by her expression that she thinks I don’t know why she should be celebrating. My mind gets stuck on her mention of “new” friends and I rack my memory for any clue as to who they might be.

Last week, I remember her hanging out with some of the chess crew. She’d been talking in the hallway with two girls . . . and two guys.

Two dorks that had looked like they’d been seconds away from busting a load, just because she stood near them and spoke to them.

Is that who she’s going out with?

An eerie stillness falls over me. I have no right to feel jealous over a girl that isn’t mine.

Which tells me everything I need to know. This one
is
mine. Or, to be more exact, I am hers.

Shit, I’ve known that for months now. It’s why I went to my father and let him know I’m leaving Kaylee.

For her.

For Lexi.

Fuck my father’s consent. I’m doing it. I’m claiming this girl. Because thinking of her going out there, looking that beautiful, being herself, and some other asshole picking her up, making her feel special,
dating
her, makes me violent.

I’m going to have her.

But first, I gotta make sure she’s going to be okay about it.

Holding her stare, I let the textbook fall onto the couch next to me and I get to my feet. Slow. My movements echo the stillness that still surrounds me. That unerring, calm certainty that I know heralds something more.