Promises We Meant To Keep (A Lancaster Prep Novel)
Promises We Meant To Keep: Chapter 8

THE PAST

It’s Halloween, and I’m anxious.

Not that I let anyone see it. I play it cool as I wait out in front of the old, half-burned down building where the party is being held tonight. My best friend Whit planned the entire thing, and we ditched class so we could set up all afternoon, anticipating pretty much everyone he invited showing up. Considering he sent out a mass text to the entire junior and senior class, that’s a lot of people.

Whit doesn’t give a damn. His family owns Lancaster Prep—they have for generations. Centuries. He can do whatever the hell he wants, and no one is going to stop him. One of the perks of being close to a Lancaster.

What’s that like, being so secure in your position you don’t worry what anyone thinks? Personally, I have no clue, though I’m surrounded by the arrogance that makes up the Lancaster family. I choose to be too—I actually like the arrogant son of a bitch. Whit is one of my closest friends, and his little sister Sylvie is my…

Shit. I don’t know what she is to me.

As I lean against the crumbling brick wall, the loud music pounding in my head, throbbing in my chest, I bring the bottle of beer to my lips and sip. My gaze is locked on the trail that leads to the building, waiting for my pretty little angel to make her appearance.

That’s what I call her, when I have her in my arms, my lips on her neck, breathing in her delectable scent. She’s an angel. Heaven sent. With a sweet mouth and flashing blue eyes and the evilest laugh. That’s why it’s fun to call her my angel.

Sylvie Lancaster is really the devil in disguise.

Of course, her brother dresses up as Satan for Halloween, because Whit is also the fucking devil. The only difference is, he owns it. He’s currently got one of the hottest girls in our class on his lap, showing him all of her attention, though I can tell just from the look on his face that he’s bored out of his skull. Caitlyn might be hot, but she’s also not a challenge, and Whit loves a challenge.

Like Summer Savage. Not quite sure what’s going on there, but there’s something between the two of them. He’s pretty tight-lipped about it, so I let it go. Sylvie fills me in on what she knows, and what she suspects, but she’s as much in the dark as I am.

“About fucking time she shows up,” Whit mutters when lights cut across our faces.

I glance up to replace a golf cart headed in our direction, Sylvie behind the wheel. She’s laughing, her hair streaming behind her in the wind, and I barely acknowledge the fact that Summer’s sitting beside her on the bench seat.

My gaze is only for Sylvie.

She pulls up right in front of us and parks the golf cart, shouting, “The party has arrived, bitches!” before she throws her arms up in the air.

She’s dressed as a dark angel with plenty of pale skin on display: black corset top that shows off her cleavage and black shorts that make her legs look impossibly long. Giant black wings loom behind her, covered in shiny black feathers that look real. Her eye makeup is dark, her lips a deep blood red, and she looks…

Fucking beautiful.

Her gaze darts from face to face, and I wonder if she’s looking for me.

I bet she is.

I pull away from the crowd, taking a step toward the golf cart, saying the first thing that crosses my mind.

“Looking fine as hell tonight, Sylvie.”

“Why thank you, prince of darkness.” She hops out of the golf cart and approaches me eagerly, patting my chest as she smiles up at me before she glances over her shoulder. “Check out Summer.”

My gaze shifts to Summer, my eyes widening as she climbs out of the golf cart. “Uh, holy shit.”

If I thought Sylvie’s costume was skimpy, she’s got nothing on Summer. Ironically enough, she’s dressed as a devil, just like Whit. A red-sequined tube top barely covers her chest, and I swear to God she’s wearing skintight red panties, fishnet stockings on her legs.

Whit is either going to attack her when he sees her, or demand she put some clothes on.

Most likely the latter. He won’t like seeing her on such display. He’s so damn territorial all the time, which means if he has any interest in her, he won’t want anyone even looking in her direction.

“Is it too much?” Summer stops directly in front of Sylvie and me, resting her hands on her hips in a provocative pose.

I’m trying to take her in, but I don’t want to stare too hard. I can feel Sylvie watching me. “Does Whit know about this?”

Summer’s expression turns annoyed and she pushes past us, shoulder checking me. “Fuck Whit Lancaster. I don’t care what he thinks.”

I turn to watch her go for a moment before I glance over at Sylvie, whose gaze is already on me. “She seems pissed.”

“My brother is being an asshole.” Sylvie slings her arms around my neck, tucking her hot little body against mine. “I like your costume.”

I came as a vampire, right down to the fangs, which I temporarily glued to my teeth. I have fake blood trickling at the corners of my mouth, and even painted my face white. I dressed in all black and found a red-lined black cape online. “I like yours too. I didn’t expect it,” I tell her, letting my gaze linger on all of her exposed parts with approval.

Her expression is pleased. “I told you I was dressing up as an angel.”

“Not a dark angel. I expected you to show up in a flowing white dress with a halo above your head.”

She laughs, her eyes dancing. “That is so not my style. You know I’m not nice.”

That’s part of Sylvie’s charm, that she acts like everyone hates her because she’s rude like the rest of the family, but she’s not. She’s actually sweet. Thoughtful. Vulnerable. Broken.

So broken.

I’m a fixer. Maybe it’s because my dad has been so obviously shitty to my mother my entire life, and I was always there to pick up the pieces. Offer her comfort when he wouldn’t. When she finally got the balls to divorce his ass, I cheered her on. Dad didn’t like that.

At all.

“Hey.” Sylvie’s soft voice cuts through my thoughts, her hand on my cheek bringing me back to the here and now. “You want to go dance?”

“I don’t dance.” I let my gaze rove over her, slowly. Taking in her beauty, how different she looks tonight. Big difference from the uniforms we’re always wearing.

“Aw come on.” She rubs herself against me, the soft press of her tits to my chest making my blood run hot. “Please?”

“I don’t know…” I’d rather sneak off someplace with her alone, but what’s the point of setting up all afternoon for a party only to ditch it before it’s even started?

I’m going to stay. At least for a little while.

She pouts, those ruby red lips tempting as hell. “You won’t do it for me?”

The slight tremor to her voice makes me immediately capitulate. “Okay.”

Her smile of pleasure is a shot right to my dick. “Let’s go!”

Sylvie grabs my hand and leads me into the fray, where the majority of party-goers are dancing, beer bottles or cups clutched in their hands. Almost everyone is in costume, and some people I don’t even recognize.

But I can’t worry about anyone else. Not when I have a beautiful blonde girl draping herself all over me, her lithe body moving while I stand there like an idiot and let her do whatever she wants.

“You’re not dancing, Spencer,” she chastises at one point, yelling over the loud music. We’ve been out here for at least twenty minutes, maybe longer, and she’s not giving me any indication she’s going to stop dancing or drinking.

“I told you I don’t dance, Sylvie,” I remind her stoically, making her smile.

“Always so serious.” She shakes her hair back, the wings she’s wearing quivering with the movement. “Don’t you know how to cut loose and have fun?”

“I am having fun,” I insist, making her laugh. I don’t need to do anything else. Just get drunk and watch this girl. That’s all I need tonight.

“You could at least touch me,” she murmurs. I circle my arm around her slender waist and a purr of pleasure escapes her when my hand settles on her hip. “Everyone’s always afraid to touch me.”

“Really.”

She nods, moving her body to the beat. She has a natural grace, her limbs fluid. I know her little sister is the true dancer in the family, but Sylvie could’ve been just as good with the right training. “They think I’m going to break. You’re the only one who treats me like I’m a normal human being, I swear.”

Only because I refuse to believe all that nonsense she spouts about her mom trying to kill her. I want to believe her, but I also know Sylvie is melodramatic. Her brother has complained to me multiple times about how she carries on and says the craziest shit.

I’ve bore witness to her saying some crazy shit myself. I don’t know where she comes up with it.

“You’re stronger than everyone thinks,” I tell her. I know she enjoys basking in my approval. No one gives her positive affirmations. The teachers and staff are all scared of her and don’t question anything she says or does, for the most part. And her family treats her mostly like garbage. Yeah, Whit watches out for her, but he’s hard on her too. Claims she needs it.

I think he’s too hard on her. I also think her mom is a complete bitch. Her dad is neglectful. And everyone else who goes to this school is a goddamn coward, too afraid to even talk to her in fear they might cross the Lancaster heiress.

Sylvie doesn’t scare me. Not in that way. My feelings for her though?

Sometimes, they creep up on me late at night when I can’t sleep, making my chest ache.

“I like that you think I’m strong.” Her smile is big, and she tips her head back, staring up at the stars since there’s no roof over this part of the building. “You make me feel even stronger.”

That’s got to count for something, right? I want to lift her up, not keep her down. Though Whit would probably kick my ass if he knew all of the things I’ve done with his little sister. He barely tolerates me spending time with her, and he doesn’t know the half of it.

I move my hand from her hip to cup her ass, pulling her closer to me. Not even a piece of paper could slip between us and she levels that icy blue gaze on me, her dark lips parted. “What are you doing?”

“You said I never touch you.” I squeeze her plump cheek that fits perfectly in my hand. “So here I am. Touching you.”

The music changes, the new song slower, with a sensual beat. She rocks her hips, her lower body brushing against mine, making me react.

Making me hard.

Her lips curve, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and she slings her arms around my neck, her hold loose, her body swaying back and forth. “God, you’re so sexy, Spence. Have I ever told you that before?”

“No.” A guy from my history class walks by, a full cup of beer in his hand, and I swipe it from him, earning an irritated hey from him. “Thanks.” I lift the cup up in a cheers’ gesture before I take a drink. He shakes his head as he walks away, and I chuckle.

“You’re mean,” she whispers.

I send her a look. “You like it.”

Her eyes flash. “You’re right. I do. Because I’m mean too.”

“You just think you’re mean,” I tease her.

Sylvie scowls. She hates it when I disagree with her. “I’ll have you know, I’m the meanest bitch you’ll ever meet.” I’m about to polish off the beer I have clutched in my hand when she snags it from me, finishing it herself.

“Hey.”

“Kiss me,” she murmurs, just before she rises up and presses her wet mouth to mine. Her lips part, our tongues tangling, and I can taste the beer.

I tighten my hold on her, both hands on her ass now, controlling the way she moves. She clings to me, kissing me in the middle of the crowd, both of us ignoring the shouts and the oohs and the aahs.

We take it far in private, but never like this—out in the open, with everyone as witnesses. We don’t want people to know we’re together. Not really. I don’t want to hear it from anyone we go to school with, especially Whit. I’m not ashamed of what we share, I just don’t want to hear the gossip or deal with her brother.

And I think she feels the same way. We like having our little secret. Messing around in her room, just the two of us rolling around on her bed. My hand in her panties. Her fingers curved around my dick.

“Oh shit,” Sylvie mutters, pulling away from me immediately.

I frown. “What’s wrong?”

She tilts her head to the right. “Look at Summer.”

I glance over to see Summer grinding on some asshole’s junk, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dilated. It’s clear the girl is drunk off her ass, and Bryan—that’s the asshole—is currently leering at her.

“That won’t end well,” I tell Sylvie.

“If my brother sees her with that guy, he’s going to freak.”

Mild understatement.

“Oh God, I think he slipped his hands under her shorts.” Sylvie sounds horrified.

This is the last thing I want to deal with. Drama. Fighting over a girl—whatever Whit says in protest, he’s interested in Summer Savage, despite his constant denials.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” I suggest.

“No, wait.” Sylvie is no longer dancing, even though the music is still playing. She’s glaring in Summer’s direction, trying to catch her attention when Summer finally looks over at us, offering a little wave as she starts to leave with Bryan.

“Summer, what the hell are you doing?” Sylvie asks.

“I’ll be back,” Summer says, pointing at the back of Bryan’s head, mouthing, he’s cute and giving her two thumbs up.

“Don’t go outside with him!” Sylvie practically screams, but Summer ignores her. She sends me a pleading look instead. “We should do something.”

I shrug. “What can we do? She’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

“She’s drunk. I need to talk to Whit.” She starts to leave and I grab her hand, stopping her.

“Don’t get in the middle of their business,” I warn her, my voice low. The song changes yet again, this time a slow one. “Leave them alone, Sylvie.”

Her lower lip trembles and I swear she’s going to cry. “But she’s my friend.”

“And she knows what she’s doing. Don’t worry about her.” I touch her cheek, letting my thumb streak over her lower lip. “Want to get out of here?”

The worry slowly dissipates from her gaze and she nods. “Go back to my room?”

“Yeah.” I smile at her, pressing my thumb against her lips, making them part.

She nips at my skin before she turns away from me, snagging my hand and pulling me through the crowd until we’re walking out of the ruins, heading straight for the golf cart that still sits out front.

“You drive,” she says, and I settle in behind the steering wheel, waiting until she’s seated before I take off. So fast, she squeals into the darkness, her laughter filling the air.

I get high off the sound, unable to stop sneaking looks at her. I swear this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her, though some of that might also be because she’s drunk. She grips the side of the golf cart, her fingers curled around the bar as she leans to her right, the upper half of her body hanging over the cart and hovering over the path.

“Hey, get back in here,” I tell her, but she just shakes her head. Still laughing. Still hanging over the ground. One wrong move, one slip of her fingers and she’s tumbling out. She could get seriously hurt.

I let off the gas, slowing down. Until she’s leaning all the way back into the cart once more, sending me a frustrated scowl.

“Why did you slow down?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her tits as she leans against the back of the seat. Looking like an angry angel.

“I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.” I jerk the cart to the right, following the path that leads to the building where her suite is. She doesn’t have a room with the rest of us in the dorms—she’s a Lancaster.

They don’t board with us commoners.

“You worry too much,” she murmurs, tossing her hair back yet again. It’s wild tonight. Wavy and flying everywhere. I’m tempted to grab hold of it and give her a tug. Pull her into me, kiss her until she stops complaining. Until she forgets all about her troubles, her worries. Her pain.

This girl carries so much pain within her. She won’t come right out and say what it is, but I have my suspicions. I don’t trust her parents.

Specifically, her mother.

“You don’t get it,” she accuses out of nowhere, and I send her a questioning glance. “Your life is so perfect. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

If she only knew. No one’s life is perfect. Not hers, and definitely not mine.

I eventually stop the golf cart in front of the building, where both her and Whit’s suites are, and she hops out, striding toward the front doors without a backward glance. I press the cart brake into place before I’m chasing after her, snagging her hand before she grabs the door and disappears forever.

Those doors lock the moment they shut. Knowing Sylvie, she’d walk right through them and not let me in.

“What?” She whirls on me. “What do you want from me, Spence?”

I frown, still confused by her attitude. “I could ask you the same thing, Syl. You’re running hot and cold tonight. You want me. You want me to fuck off. Make up your mind.”

Her chest rises and falls as she glares at me, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You know what I really want? To have fun and not worry all the damn time. I want to feel good. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt good? Felt healthy? A long time, Spencer. A really fucking long time.”

We stare at each other, Sylvie’s harsh breathing after her outburst the only sound. I don’t know where the hell this is coming from, and she can see the confusion on my face. In my eyes.

“I swore this school year would be better, but it’s still all the same. All the time. She won’t leave me alone. I don’t feel normal. Ever. I don’t even know what that means or what it’s like. But being with you, and hanging out with Summer…you both help me forget who I really am.” Her smile is small. Sad. “A broken little doll with nothing to live for.”

“Aw, Sylvie—”

“Don’t try to deny it. You know it’s true. All my talk of dying sounds so dramatic, but it’s my reality. Mine.” She lifts her chin, the moon casting its gentle, silvery glow on her face and that’s when I see the tears streaking down her cheeks. “She’s killing me. Slowly but surely. I know it’s all her fault. And no one wants to do anything about it. Not my dad. Not anyone.”

I go to her, pulling her into my arms and holding her close, crushing the wings she’s wearing beneath my grip. I don’t even care about the damn wings anymore or the costume or the party.

I just want to take care of my Sylvie.

She’s crying into my black shirt, her sobs quiet, her tears soaking the fabric. I run my hand over her hair, tangling my fingers in the soft strands, gripping it at the base, just as I imagined earlier.

Gently, I tug on her hair, pulling her head back so our mouths are perfectly aligned. “Come on, Syl. You’re breaking my heart.”

“I thought you didn’t have one.” She slides her hands across the front of my chest, her touch softening, her palm resting right in between my pecs. Her cheeks are tear-stained, her eyes rimmed with red, yet she’s still so damn beautiful. “You told me that once. A long time ago.”

When I would encourage her to leave me alone. Messing around with your best friend’s little sister is one way of fucking your life up, especially when your best friend is Whit Lancaster. If he knew all the things I’ve done with Sylvie…

He’d kill me. Murder me with his bare hands.

“It’s been a while since we’ve spent time together, Spencer.” Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, gently tugging. “I’ve missed you.”

“You inviting me into your room for real this time?”

She nods, letting go of my shirt. “Come on.”

I follow her into the building, the door slamming closed behind us, locking into place. It’s quiet in here, and we’re completely isolated. No staff checks on the Lancasters in this building past dark, if ever. Meaning we’re all alone.

Just the two of us.

Once she’s got her suite door unlocked, I’m pushing my way inside, crowding her, forcing her so her back is against the wall, where I pin her with my body, the black wings she’s wearing getting crushed. That familiar urge rises up within me, the same one I only ever feel when I’m with her.

I’m a nice guy. Respectful. My mama taught me to have some manners. My father taught me to always remain quiet versus spilling your guts to every asshole you meet. Both have given me plenty of advice over the years. How to deal with other people. How to deal with girls. Women.

Yet I still don’t understand this need I have for Sylvie every time I get her alone. She makes me feel edgy. Uneasy.

Like all I want to do is pounce. Jump her. Devour her.

Make her all mine.

It’s like she can feel the energy I give off, and while she responds to it, she also pushes me away. Every single time. It’s frustrating as shit, and I know I should be more patient, considering she’s a virgin. But we’ve done so much already.

Why can’t we get past that one last barrier?

“Spence.” Her voice is a breathy whisper, more air than sound, and she tightens her grip on my shirt, yanking me close. I dip my head, my mouth landing on hers, her lips parting beneath mine, our tongues touching. Circling. A low sound comes from deep in my chest and I press my body to hers, wanting her to feel my need.

All of my need is for her. Only her.

She’s taller with the heels on her feet, her tits crushed against my chest. I break away from her greedy lips, trailing my mouth down the length of her slender neck, licking and nibbling her pale skin. She trembles beneath me, a moan falling from her lips when I kiss across her chest. Along the top of her tits.

Lifting my head, I keep my gaze on hers as I tug down on the front of the corset she’s wearing, her tits popping free, her pale pink nipples hard. I lick one, then the other, smiling when a jolt rocks through her, making her grab the back of my head, her fingers curling into my hair.

She holds me to her as I feast on her breasts, licking and sucking a nipple into my mouth, my hands replaceing her hips, holding her against the wall. She bucks against my grip, struggling as if she wants me to touch her even more, and I run my hands beneath the legs of her shorts, touching her thighs. I pull away slightly, staring at her as I slowly start to realize…

Damn, she’s thin. Skinny legs and thighs, hip bones protruding. Tiny little waist, smallish tits, concave stomach. It’s like the girl never eats. I’ve wondered before if she has an eating disorder…

“Hey.” She settles her palm directly over my dick, quickly snatching my attention. I lift my head, my gaze locking with hers, and she studies me, her brows drawn together. “What are you doing?”

I can’t tell her the truth. It’ll ruin the mood, ruin the moment. She’s always teetering on that edge, volatile as hell and not afraid to tell me to fuck off before she leaves me in the dust.

Can’t risk it.

“What do you think I’m doing?” I run my hand across the front of her shorts, so I can cup her between her thighs. She’s hot. Damp. I can smell her.

She catches her lower lip with her teeth, studying me. A fallen angel with crushed black wings still hanging from her back. Her lipstick is long gone, her eyes are extra dark and her tits are out. All-knowing, yet innocent too. “I want you to make me come,” she demands.

I gently grind the heel of my palm against her pussy, making her breath catch. “Like that?”

“With your fingers,” she urges in a whisper. “Inside of me.”

I remove my hand. “Take your shorts off, Syl.”

She does as I ask, her fingers fumbling as she curls them around the waistband and tugs them down. Until she’s completely exposed, no panties on because that’s how Sylvie operates. She wants me to see her like this, think of her like this. Experimental. Wild.

But she’s also shy. Paranoid. A little scared.

“Leave them there,” I tell her when the shorts fall to her knees. “Spread your legs.”

Sylvie spreads them wider, allowing me a glimpse of glistening pink flesh. She doesn’t have much pubic hair, and what she does have is a blonde little tangle that barely covers her pussy.

Fuck, she’s a sight. If anyone could see her like this, they’d be shocked. This is not the act she puts on for anyone else.

Just me.

“Touch yourself,” I suggest, feeling like a sadistic fuck. Knowing she gets off on this sort of thing.

Her hand automatically goes between her legs, the slick sounds of her busy fingers telling me she’s already playing with her clit.

“You like it when I watch you do that?”

Our gazes clash, and I wonder where the hell we got this idea—to do it like this.

“Yes,” she whispers, nodding. Her hair falls over her eyes, but she doesn’t push it out of the way.

Her fingers are too preoccupied doing other things.

Impatience curls through me and I go to her, pushing her hand aside and replacing her fingers with my own. I sink them into her creamy flesh, stroking her, slipping a finger just inside her and she arches her head back, exposing her throat as she moans. I brush my mouth against her neck, licking and sucking, rubbing her clit over and over. Until her entire body is trembling and her breaths come faster. She’s close to coming, I can tell, and at the last second, I remove my hand from her, taking a step back.

The glare on her face would slay dragons, and all I can do is smile at her.

“My turn,” is all I say.

“This isn’t a game, Spence.”

“Ah, but it is, Syl. This is how you like it, remember?” I start to undo the buttons on my shirt, my heart rate increasing, my muscles tightening in anticipation. “Get on your knees.”

She shakes her head, shrugging her shoulders to take off the fallen angel wings that are barely hanging on. She tosses them on the edge of her bed, black feathers fluttering everywhere, some of them landing on the bed or the floor. “Make me.”

Everything in her life is so out of control. She’s admitted that to me before. She’s in freefall, constantly. Unsure and untrusting of everything and everyone.

Except with me. She prefers it when I tell her what to do. That way, she knows what to expect. What I want.

And I always give her what she wants in the end, so she has no complaints.

I whip off my shirt, and she falls to her knees, reaching for the front of my trousers. Her shaky fingers work the button and pull down the zipper. She presses her palm against the front of my boxer briefs, her fingers curling around my cock, giving me a firm squeeze.

“Harder,” I grit out.

My pants fall, puddling around my ankles, and I kick them off, Sylvie leaning to the side when I send them flying. She rises up, her gaze replaceing mine as she leans in, her mouth pressing lightly against my cotton-covered dick.

Her breath is hot. Damp. She’s panting, her lips parting, her tongue snaking out to lick. Just once. Just enough to earn a ragged groan from me.

“Take them off.”

She curls her fingers around the waistband of my boxers and yanks them down, freeing my cock. She’s downright eager as she grips the base, her mouth wrapping around the head and sucking me into her mouth.

“Fuck.” I slide my fingers into her hair, watching in rapt attention as she slides my cock in and out of her mouth, her saliva making my hardened skin glisten. We’ve graduated from hand jobs and fingering to oral sex and her mouth is what I imagine heaven will feel like. Warm and wet and welcoming. With just the right amount of suction and a licking, eager tongue.

Cum drips on her tongue. I can feel it leaking out of me and I reach for her, curling my hand around her chin, making her stop. She pauses, her eyes wide, her mouth full of dick as she stares up at me.

“Slow down,” I demand, my voice soft. “Lick it.”

She runs her tongue up and down the length, teasing the flared head. Lightly tracing the slit, lapping up the precum. Her eyes shutter closed, a hum coming from deep in her throat that sends a vibration throughout my body.

My balls tighten, a warning that I’m going to come soon, which I don’t want to do. I prefer to draw it out. But Sylvie has a way with her mouth. The sounds she makes. The way she looks at me.

Just thinking about her makes me want to blow.

Without warning, she removes me from her mouth, rising to her feet and rubbing the back of her hand against the corner of her lips. I’m left standing there like an idiot, my breathing erratic, my brain buzzing, my dick so fucking hard it hurts.

“You made me wait, I’m going to make you wait.” Her smile is smug. Downright shitty.

I grab her, hauling her into me, her bare tits crushed against my chest. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“So are you.” She shoves at my chest, but not very hard, and I can tell she enjoys it when we do this.

She always does.

“Get on the bed.” I reach behind her, smacking her ass so hard she yelps. “Go.”

Without hesitation, she does as I command, arranging herself on the bed so she’s lying in the center of the mattress, her legs spread wide, showing off that pretty little pussy of hers. I shed the last of my clothing until I’m completely naked, and then I crawl onto the bed and am face to pussy, inhaling the sweet, slightly musky scent of her.

“Make me come with your mouth, Spence,” she demands.

I study her, taking the moment in. She’s lying in the middle of the mattress, black feathers scattered everywhere. A few small ones cling to her skin, reminding me of a tattered little dark angel who fell to earth, broken and confused.

Well, more like horny and needy. The impatience on her face is obvious, so I give her what she wants. What she needs.

Bending over her, I put my mouth on her pussy, my licks languid as I take my time and search every inch of her. She’s so hot. Fucking soaked. I suck her clit between my lips, then let it go so I can tongue it. Flick it. Tease it.

Tease her.

“Yesssss.” She thrusts her hands into my hair, holding my face to her and I devour her like I’m a starving man. She begins to tremble beneath me, her legs coming up, thighs pressing either side of my head, trapping me. I lick and suck her clit, never letting up as she cries out. Until she’s shoving at my shoulders and I have no choice but to shift off her, leaning back on my haunches on the floor when she rolls onto her side.

“You should go.” Her voice is muffled by the pillow she’s got her face pressed into.

I frown. “Syl. Look at me.”

She shakes her head, her messy blonde hair becoming even messier. “Go. Leave, Spence.”

Glancing down at my still hard cock, I blow out a harsh breath. “You keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Pushing me away when we get closer.”

She peeks at me, a single blue eye staring. “I do not.”

“You do.” I hesitate for only a moment. “And I’m sick of it.”

Without warning, she hauls the pillow at me, and it smacks me in the head. “If you’re so sick of me, get out!”

I stand, grabbing hold of my trousers and jerking them on before I throw the shirt over my shoulders, not bothering to button it. “I walk out that door right now, I might never come back in.”

I mean it. I’m tired of the back and forth with this girl. Nothing is normal. Nothing is stable. I want to help her but…

Most of the time, she won’t let me.

“Good. I don’t want you to come back. Just go. Abandon me like everyone else does.” Her voice is strained, like she might start crying at any moment, and for one second, I want to go to her.

Comfort her.

Instead, I slip on my shoes and leave, annoyance flaring through my blood, making it run hot.

I’m tired of being used by a Lancaster.

I’m not going to let it happen again.