FLAME (Spark Series) (3 page)

3

Some might wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Hell, even
I
wonder that sometimes. It’s a lifestyle choice. A way to have the freedom and control I never felt I had growing up. Not to mention, it’s exactly what men do, except this time, I’m doing it to them. If men can do it, why can’t I? I like fun. I like sex. So sue me.

Laney and I spend our Sunday nights having lazy movie nights. It’s kind of our tradition. As opposite as we are in real life, we’re just as opposite in our movie tastes. We switch on and off about who gets to pick the movie, but tonight, it’s my turn.

“Ugh, again? Seriously?” she complains as I put the first DVD in.

“You betcha. Ryan Phillippe is my soul mate.”

“I’m sure that’s what Reese thought, too,” she snorts. I roll my eyes at her. We begin our
Cruel Intentions
marathon with a bowl of popcorn and a twelve pack of soda. “You know, you and Ryan’s character are like two peas in a pod.”

“I think that’s why I love this movie so much.” I grin, popping a piece of popcorn in my mouth.

“You know he dies in the end, right?” She chuckles. I scowl at her. She knows I cry over it every time, too.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

We snuggle into the couch and watch Ryan man-whore all his conquests. It doesn’t make me feel guilty or sorry for those girls. They know what they’re getting into, or rather, they
should
know. The moment you let your guard down in hopes you are the ‘
exception
,’ you’re a fucking fool. No guy is going to change his ways if he doesn’t want to. Guys use suave tricks from their playbooks and sweet talk you into thinking that “you’re different” or that “they’ll change.” That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard.

And why should I be any different? I make no apologies for liking what I like…
sex, sex, and
lots
more sex. I don’t want to settle down. I like what I like. I don’t lead guys on to think any differently, so in the end, if they get hurt or they think there will be more, that’s all on them. They are the only ones who put that little fantasy into their heads, not me.

“Seriously, this is so gross. I can’t believe you’ve made me watch this like a dozen million times.”

“Why is it gross?” I ask, almost insulted.

“Because he sleeps around to feel something. He sleeps around without a care in the world or who he’s hurting. He’s just…gross.” She snarls, making a disgusted face.

“Maybe…” I retort as if I’m defending myself, “he doesn’t want to feel and he doesn’t want to be hurt. He just wants what he wants.”

“Whatever. It’s still gross, she’s his stepsister.”

I laugh. “I think it’s hot.”

“You would, you sick freak,” she teases. I throw a popcorn piece at her, and soon she takes the whole bowl and dumps the thing over my head.

“Oh my god! You’re so dead!” I scream, jumping off the couch to chase her.

“I always wondered about the lesbian-nation over here.” I halt in my steps as I hear a man’s voice above us.

“What the fuck, Jake? Don’t you knock?” I yell.

“The door was wide fucking open,
Cruella
. Don’t you girls ever lock your damn door?”

This is the first time I’ve heard Jake speak like this. Normally, he’s such a sweetheart. Apparently, holding out for sex for the past two years must really be taking him over the edge.

“Damn. Get laid already,” I snap back. I leave Jake and Laney alone to dual it out. I’m not dealing with this drama shit.

I hear Laney gasp as I slam the door shut. Whatever his problem is, I’m not about to deal with it. I grab my Kindle and sink into my bed.

*   *   *

I wake up feeling refreshed and energized. I think about hitting the gym before my bar shift at 11, so I quickly grab my clothes and head out of my room.

Just as I’m searching for a bottle of water in the fridge, I get a good look around the apartment and see shit all over the floor.

“What the hell?” I mutter to myself. I see papers that were once on the table scattered everywhere, and shoes that were neatly arranged by the door thrown on the floor. My mind jolts me back to last night’s events, and suddenly I worry about Velaney and what happened with Jake last night.

“Laney? Are you in here?” I quickly ask, knocking on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

She doesn’t answer so I slowly open the door and let myself in anyway. “Lane?” The comforter is covering her face so I tiptoe to the head of the bed where I finally see her red, puffy face.
Shit, she’s been crying.

“Laney, tell me what happened.” I shake her awake. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes slowly open, and before she gets a word out, her eyes begin tearing up.

“What the hell did the fucktard bastard do to you?”

“We broke up!” she screams out, covering her face with her hands. “He—he wanted more than I could give him.”

“Is this about the sex thing again?” Jake has been after it for at least the last year. He’s been pressuring her more and more lately, so I knew this was coming.

“Yeah, he said either I had to get my religious shit together and give in, or he was leaving for good.”

“Please tell me you punched him in the junk.”

“No,” she says between sobs. “But I
did
throw stuff at him.” She lightly chuckles.

I smile. “Good girl.”

“How could I be so stupid, Riss? I knew he’d eventually want more, yet I kept holding on to the hope that he was different.”

“Sweetie, guys are only after one thing. And if you don’t give it to them, they’ll find someone else who will. Sad but true story.”

I try to sugarcoat some things for her. She’s too innocent and pure to hear the sick truth about men and sex.

“Alrighty, up you go. We’re going shopping.” I grin.
*   *   *

Every time I came home after school
, I’d walk into the same thing—my mother laying half dead on the sofa and my father chugging back a 24-pack. It was as if he didn’t even care what my mother was doing. He’d let her
buy the shit as long as she fucked him and bought him beer. The real reality of marriage…

“Carissa!” I heard my mother yell.
It was a Saturday morning, and I just wanted to sleep in. “Carissa, get your ass up, now!”

I groaned, throwing the warm covers off my bed. I cautiously walked into the living room, waiting for all hell to break loose.

“Bring Mama some coffee,” she demanded not even looking in my direction. I looked back into the kitchen and saw that we didn’t have any.

“There isn’t any left,” I said quietly.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Wasn’t it on the weekly grocery list?” she yelled. Aside from taking care of myself all the damn time, I was also in charge of the grocery shopping.

“I didn’t see it on the list,” I simply replied.

“Go to the store and get some, now,” she said in a tone that wasn’t meant to be argued with. What my mother forgot almost daily was that I was only 10 years old. I couldn’t drive. And I didn’t have money. However, I knew where my father’s secret stash was. He had told me once that whenever I needed something for my mother, I was to go in there and get the money out. Not to mention, I had to get a taxi in order to get whatever it was she was wanting at the time.

I didn’t reply. I went back to my room and got dressed. As soon as I arrived at the store, I asked the taxi driver to wait for me. I didn’t want to have to wait another half hour for another ride.

I grabbed the coffee and checked out as quickly as I could. I knew if Mama had to wait much longer, she’d have a full-out yelling fiasco.

“What the fuck is this shit?” She threw the canister back at me. “This isn’t the shit I drink.”

Yes it is.

And how the hell would she know? She never made it.

“It’s what you asked for,” I reminded her.

“You’re a fucking waste of air,” she huffed.

I made the coffee and poured cream and sugar into her mug. As soon as it was finished, I brought it into the living room where she was watching The Price is Right reruns and smoking a joint.

“Here, Mama.”

She didn’t look in my direction or even say anything.

Not a word.

*   *   *

“Hey, you okay?” Velaney’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I’ve brought her to the mall to look around and get Jake off her mind.

“I should be asking
you
that,” I smile the best I can.

“Well, you look like your dog just got ran over or something.”

“Just thinking of my mom, that’s all.” Not only have we not been home in two years, I haven’t even spoken to my parents since we left.

“Oh, shit. It’s her birthday, isn’t it?” Her face shows sadness, but I don’t feel sad at all.

“Yeah,” I simply reply.

I don’t feel sad when I think of my mother, I feel pissed. I feel pissed that I was punished with a mother like her—a good for nothing junkie. I was never good enough for her. I never did anything right. Hell, she never even told me she loved me.

“Sorry, we can talk about something else.” She grabs my hand.

“It’s fine. It’s really not a big deal.” She shrugs, not wanting to press the issue. “So, is retail therapy helping?” I ask in a happier voice.

“Does it ever?” she groans. Laney isn’t much of a shopper. If I don’t take her, she’d have an empty closet.

We spend the rest of the day cracking jokes and laughing. I pick out cute tops for her to wear at the bar, some cut lower than she’s comfortable with, but I insist.
Laney is gorgeous, but she wasn’t born with the gift of confidence. And now Jake just made it worse. Ten fucking times worse.
Jackass.

Since I was able to get Laney to skip school for shopping, I insist on dinner and drinks.

“C’mon, it’s on me!” I smile at her, giving her my best convincing face.

“Fine,” she replies through gritted teeth. Laney and I are only twenty, but I have a fake ID. Laney does, too, but she’s never used it. She’s never had to when I’m with her, and unless I drag her out, she’d never go anyway.

“I’ll have a Vodka Cranberry,” I say to the waiter. I hold my menu in my hands, not even glancing at him.

“And for you, miss?” he asks, turning to face Laney.

“Um…” she stumbles, nervously. I can sense she’s uncomfortable.

“She’ll take a P
i
ñ
a Colada,” I answer for her.

Laney glares at me until the waiter walks away.

“What?”

“A P
i
ñ
a Colada? Really?”

“Sure, why not?” I shrug. “Seems like a Velaney-type drink to me.” I smirk.

She stays silent until after our food finally arrives. We begin picking at our food until I finally speak up.

“So…do you want to talk about it?” I ask sincerely. I can tell her mind is spinning.

She shrugs, playing with the straw in her drink. She looks down and I can tell she’s hurting.

“Babe, talk about it. I know I wasn’t a huge fan of Jake, but you can talk to me. Tell me everything that happened.” I reach across the table and grab her hand. She continues to stay silent, not touching her food.

I take that as my cue and stop talking. We continue eating without exchanging words, the silence killing me.

“Wanna watch a movie?” I ask as we enter the apartment.

“Sure,” she mumbles.

“You pick it out,” I tell her. “Whatever you want.” I smile genuinely at her.

“Okay.” I watch as she throws her shoes off and tosses her purse on the table. She moves with slow steps to the TV, picking at the movies in our entertainment center.

I grab a bag of popcorn and throw it in the microwave.
I also grab a couple of sodas, a blanket, and pillow.

Velaney gives me an odd look as she sees me juggling everything back into the living room.

I shrug. “Girls’ night in.” I smirk, handing her one of the cans.

We settle in, sitting next to each other on the sofa. I hand her a bowl of popcorn and set mine on the table next to me. I wasn’t sure how deep she was in until I saw the movie case she picked sitting out—
The Holiday.

Oh, shit.
It’s her go-to movie for everything—happy, sad, miserable, desperate,
heartbroken.

I grab her hand in mine and squeeze, looking straight ahead.

“I love you, Lane.”

“I love you, too.”

We watch the movie in silence the entire night, popping popcorn in our mouths and crying…even at the end when everyone gets their
happily ever after.

*   *   *

4

-21 years o
ld-

Two years earlier

“Lane, we have to go!” I yell down the hall as I lean against the wall. Between her work and school schedule, we hardly have any time together anymore. So today, I’m dragging her to the movies with me.

“Coming!” she shouts back. She parades out into the hallway wearing low cut jeans and an oversized sweater.

I grimace at her. “Who died?”

“Huh?” She stops in her tracks and stares at me.

“What’s with the get-up?” I ask, motioning my hand up and down her body.

“What’s wrong with it? Did jeans and a sweatshirt go out of style since the last time I checked?” she scowls, walking toward me.

“No…not if you’re home alone trying to scare mice away.
However, for the movies it just looks depressing.”

“It’s a good thing it’ll be dark then.” She sticks her tongue at me.

“I’m cleaning out your closet one of these days,” I mutter. “I’ll make it Carissa-approved.”

“Well, then all I’ll have left is bras and panties.” She laughs as we head out the door.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

We make it to the movies just in time for the previews. The movie is jam-packed, barely giving us elbow room on each side.

“This movie better be good,” Velaney groans, getting comfortable in her seat.

“Well, if it’s anything like the book, it will be,” I reassure her. “Beastly is one of my favorite books. Add in a British actor like Alex Pettyfer, and you’ll have your panties melting off in no time.”

“Looking forward to it.” She rolls her eyes at me just as the movie starts.

“I’m going to grab a soda. Want anything?” I whisper in Velaney’s ear about twenty minutes into the movie.

She shakes her head no. I get up to leave and begin walking down the dark aisle back to the entrance.

“Excuse me?” I hear a voice behind me.

I turn around and blink several times before I find my voice to speak. The voice was…hot. Uncanny. He stands tall with broad shoulders and ripped arms, his shirt barely able to fit over them. He has dark, ruffled hair that looks messy as if he’d brushed his hands through it several times over.

I take my time roaming my eyes up and down, appreciating his body before I can speak.

“Yes?” I say with confidence.

“I-I’m sorry to bother you. But do you know where theater 18 is?”

I fade his voice out as I chew my bottom lip, looking him over again. I feel heat rise in between my thighs. This guy…
yes
…I need to have him.

Desire sweeps over me. Soon I find myself taking his hand and leading him down the hall.

“Come with me,” I demand.

He gladly follows, circling his thumb over my hand.

Before I can get us to a secluded area, he surprises me by slamming my body with force against the wall, pinning us together.

“There’s no theater 18,” he informs me.

Before I can respond, his mouth is on me, his tongue dancing with mine as our bodies mold together. One of his hands cups my breast as the other makes its way to my ass, gripping it with force.

He i
s an eager little beaver.

After minutes pass of this little groping session, it dawns on me we are still in the hallway.

I break the kiss. He begins panting in my ear, still holding me hostage against the wall.

“We…um…should move somewhere private,” I breathe out.

I grab his hand and lead him to the bathrooms. There’s a family single across from the regular public bathrooms.
This’ll do.

I open the door and push him in. I’m so fucking ready for him, my entire body is quivering just thinking about it.

As the door shuts, I slam him against it and submit to my knees. I unzip his pants and pull them down to his ankles. I reach over and flick the light off.

I pull his cock out of his briefs—thick, hard, and ready.
I wrap my wet lips around his growing erection, deep throating him until I can feel the head hit the back of my throat. I hear him gasp at my sudden urgency, but he needs to know right from the start that I’m in control.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls out. “Shit.” I begin taking him harder and deeper, milking him with my mouth as I fondle his balls with my hands.

Suddenly, he pushes back, lifts me up under my arms and bends me over the sink. “You like it rough, don’t you? You like fucking a complete stranger.”

Who the hell does he think he is?

I spin around to slap him, but he grabs my hand mid-air before it meets his face.

“My, my. You
are
a frisky one,” he muses. “I’ve had my eyes on you since I saw you walk in. I know you want me.”

“You’re an arrogant asshole,” I mutter.

“And you’re a demanding little slut, so what’s it matter?” he retorts.

I swallow and just look at him, even though I can’t completely see him.

“You better have a condom,” I finally say, pulling my wrist out of his grasp.

He bends down and reaches into his pocket to pull out a foil packet. “Now, turn back around.”

Man, I hate demanding fuckers. Pun intended.

Considering I’m soaking through my panties with greed, I allow him to restrain me against the sink. He wraps his hands around me, yanking my shorts and panties down. He pushes me down further, aligning us just right. He grips my hips and pushes inside me without so much as a warning.

“Shit,” I spit out, clenching my eyes as my body adjusts to his size. One of his hands lingers on my breast, squeezing right through my shirt as he continues to pump into me.

“Chance,” he says as he begins slamming into me.

“What?”

“My name.” He clears his throat. “My name is Chance.”

“Don’t really care. But thanks for the introduction,” I snap. My body relaxes as I take him fully, his hips thrusting against my ass. The sink is cold on my skin, but I don’t care. The combination of cold and heat feed my body the orgasm I’m desperately after.

He pulls my hair as he screams out his climax. I’m almost tempted to yell at him for that, but I let it go. I need to get back to Velaney.

He pulls out and snaps the condom off. I bend over, pulling my panties and shorts back up. I turn around and flick the light on. I grab some tissue and look in the mirror as I dab at my face. I’m flushed and need to cool down before going back out. I adjust my shirt and fix my hair before walking out.

“Wait…” I hear him say as he zips up his jeans. “What’s your name?” he calls out.

“It’s not important,” is the last thing I yell to him before rounding the corner and heading back to the theater.

“Took you a while. You okay?” she asks concerned.

“Yeah…long line.” I swallow. I’ve never been good at lying, and I
hate
lying to Lane. But I’m private about my sex life around her. She isn’t interested, and I don’t want her to know all the details.

She turns and faces me with an odd expression. Her eyes wander up and around my body before she speaks. “Where’s your soda?”

Oh shit.

“I dropped it.”

She crosses her arms and scowls at me. “Sure.”

*   *   * 

Alright, so clearly I haven’t gotten better with age. If anything, I’ve gotten worse. The addiction to sex, or perhaps it’s the addiction to
feel
—is in full force. My body is always desiring and itching to get my next lay. The sex is amazing, no doubt there, but it’s the feeling that overcomes me as I’m…
in action.

The feeling of
feeling—
desire, heat, electricity, lust. The only feelings I was capable of having while growing up were—hate, anger, rage. Those feelings ate me up inside. I felt dead. Cold. I wanted to feel something else. I
needed
to feel something else.

And that was when I discovered my first orgasm.

I was 18 when I first had sex. I was in my last quarter of high school, graduation was just weeks away. I could practically taste the freedom, it was so close.

I had plans with Velaney to leave as soon as possible. Pack our bags and get the fuck away. I would follow her to college and get a job. Whatever it took to get out of my parents’ house.

I had a crush on my teacher—my history teacher to be exact.
He was 28 years old with a baby face, baby blue eyes, and a toned figure. He was the first guy I was ever really attracted to—the first guy I ever felt something for. It was an odd feeling to have. Most of the guys I made out with in class were hot, but I never felt anything. Even
Damon,
my first boyfriend back in freshman year didn’t give me the same feelings. We never had sex. He wanted to show me off instead as if I was some sort of prize—some trophy he had won. He wanted to control every aspect of our relationship and, because I was young and naïve, I let him. Until one day he dumped me in front of the whole school—humiliated and hurt. It had been a couple years since then, but it didn’t hurt any less.

I had failed a history test one day, and Mr. Brox asked me to stay after class. Although I was a confident person at school, never showing my heart on my sleeve, he seemed to see right through me.

“Carissa? I need to see you after class, please. We need to discuss your test.” He bent over from behind me and whispered in my ear. I felt his breath over my face, making my body instantly respond by shivering.

I simply nodded, not looking back at him. He stood and continued walking to the front of the classroom. I couldn’t think clearly the rest of the day. Velaney had asked me over and over if I was alright. I just told her I was PMSing and she dropped it.

As soon as the last bell rang, I ran to my locker to shove everything away.

Thinking about b
eing in Mr. Brox’s classroom all alone made me nervous—an intense, all-over body penetrating nervous sensation.

“Mr. Brox?” I knocked on his door, slowly opening it as I peeked in. “Hello?”

“Come in, Carissa.” His voice was deep, demanding. It wasn’t the easygoing voice that lectured in class.

I swallowed and inhaled as I opened the door the rest of the way, allowing myself in. The room was eerily quiet. Usually, it was loud, filled with students gossiping, but now, the silence was much wanted and desired.

“Shut the door behind you,” he commanded before I even took a step. I obliged and shut it. I slowly walked to his desk where he was sitting. His face was down, looking at some papers as I approached him.

I swallowed again, hard this time, hoping to get my body in check. It was flushed with desire and nerves.

“Carissa,” his tongue rolled my name so seductively. “We need to talk about this test.” He raised it up in his hands like an infected bat. “You can do better than this. What’s going on?” he asked, looking at me intently. “Is something wrong at home?”

It was as if he could read my mind. Or perhaps I was just more transparent than I thought. I shook my head relentlessly. I didn’t want him to know my home life situation. No one but Velaney knew, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Then what is it? I know you know this material. Your assignment grades are exceptional.”

The truth was my parents fought all fucking week. Their screams echoed throughout the entire house, making it impossible to study or concentrate. It was so bad that my head began to hurt, so I plugged my headphones in and drowned them out until I fell asleep. And by then, I hadn’t studied at all.

But I wasn’t going to confess that to him.

“I don’t know. Test anxiety, I guess.” I shrugged nonchalantly
. I tried to contain my composure so he wouldn’t see right through my lie.

He stood up and got out of his chair. He rounded his desk and stepped in front of me. I inhaled his scent—a mixture of cinnamon and spice. Old Spice.

He rubbed a hand up my arm, leaving goose bumps in his absence. My eyes reluctantly closed as I welcomed his touch. It felt incredible to be touched by him. To be touched by someone like him.

“Carissa,” he half-whispered. My eyes slowly opened to his face in sync with mine. “I’m going to kiss you now.” His eyes were tense, serious.

I nodded, locking my eyes with his as he leaned in and brushed his lips with mine. It was as if a fire ignited inside me. Suddenly, my body heated, eager for more, demanding him. The feelings—the electricity between us—fed the energy of what we did next.

He scooped me up and placed me on top of his desk. His kiss deepened, becoming more and more eager. His hands roamed up and down my body, cupping my breast and neck. My legs wrapped around his waist and I pulled him closer into me. I felt the bulge in his pants and was immediately receptive to it. I wrapped a hand around him from the outside of his jeans, feeling it get harder as I stroked him.

“Carissa,” he breathed out, leaning his forehead against mine. I paused, begging him with my eyes not to stop. He walked to the door and locked it before coming back to stand between my legs. “You are gorgeous,” he muttered. He wrapped a loose hair around my ear, which drove me to wanting him more.