Scartissue by T.L Hodel
Chapter 4
Logan
Shelby’s room was annoyingly girly. There was fucking pink everywhere. The blankets, the curtains, even the damn carpet was a faded salmon color. This place should make my dick die faster than seeing Ma naked – which thank fucking God has never happened – but the only thing I wanted to do was defile this place of innocence. Devour myself a slice of cherry pie, while all of Shelby’s stuffed animals watched.
I plucked a brown bunny off a chair by the window.
“What do you say, Thumper? Want me to show you how it’s really done in the animal kingdom?”
He stared back at me with beaded black eyes and a stitched smile.
“Good to know you’re with me, buddy,” I said, and tossed him on the bed beside a unicorn.
Thumper I could handle, but the unicorn… I shook my head. What was it with chicks and this shit? Naomi had dolphins, and Amy cats. Even Riley had fucking Minnie Mouse everywhere, and she wasn’t girly at all.
Time for something more interesting.
I moved over to the small desk in the corner. Shelby’s journal was in the top drawer and I knew she wrote in it everyday. I was curious what she thought about my present? It wasn’t hard to convince Mauve to deliver. She was an old family friend after all. Ma had her over every Sunday for tea.
My lips curled when I flipped open her journal and got to last night’s entry. The first words written were, Logan Hudson is an ass. Cherry Pie may not have liked my present, but she was thinking about me, and that was the point.
I sat down on her bed and read through her latest dream. There was something about a spanking – nothing like the one I’d give her. There wouldn’t be any of this playful slapping crap. I wanted to see my handprint on her ass. Know that every time she sat down, she felt me. Other than the spanking, the rest was pretty tame. A touch here. A kiss there. Boring, really.
Ah well, what could I expect from a virgin?
She had nothing to go on. At least she better fucking not! Just the thought of another cock tainting my pussy had me ready to kill a motherfucker. From what I could tell, the most Shelby had done was kiss a couple pricks. Both of whom I paid a visit to. I kind of liked the last one. He was a squirrely fucker. Even took him out for a beer afterwards.
I wrote a couple suggestions in Shelby’s journal and dropped it on her desk, just as my phone dinged.
Micha: Where the hell are you?
What the fuck did he care? It wasn’t the first time I’d skipped school. One good thing I got from my old man was his intelligence, and the exact reason Lou should’ve put a bullet in his fucking head.
Me: Had something to do.
Micha: Do you want my dad on your ass?
I don’t know why Lou felt the need to act as my father figure. I didn’t ask him to, yet there he was, scolding me every time I fucked up. Last week he had a conversation with me about my attendance record. Apparently, I needed to think about my future. He should worry about his own kid. I already got accepted into MIT, while Micha was thinking about opting out of Stanford to go to the University of Miami so he could be close to his girl.
Me: I don’t swing that way, but I can hook your old man up if that’s his thing.
Micha: Asshole.
I sent him a kiss emoji and pocketed my phone.
Why waste my time in math class when I could be going through Cherry Pie’s delicates? She literally had it labeled that. Delicates. I snickered at the small tab stuck on the corner of her drawer. Shelby must’ve done it when she was a kid, because most of the labels were peeling, or half hanging off. I could picture her walking around with pigtails and a label maker, tagging everything she owned. So fucking cute.
While her room looked like it was decorated when she was ten, her ‘delicates’ were all woman. Lacy little thongs and G-strings in every color imaginable. Fuck that candy ‘taste the rainbow’ crap, I want to eat this shit. What was hiding at the bottom of the drawer was even better.
Well, well, well, what do we have here?
Tucked in the far back corner, was a small silver bullet, along with a book. I scanned the cover, making a mental note of the title and author. ‘Daddy P.I.’, by E.J Frost.
I picked up the toy and flipped the switch, letting it vibrate in my palm as I flipped through the book. Right away it got bonus points for the guy’s name being Logan. I didn’t know what it was about yet, but I knew he’d own that shit. The sex scenes were particularly interesting.
My Cherry Pie has a naughty side.
I was part way through chapter eight when I heard a familiar hiss.
Shelby’s fat gray tabby was standing in the doorway, crouched up in a Halloween cat stance.
Hissss!
“Really?” I sighed, “I thought we were past this shit?”
He growled and let out another hiss, before turning around and prancing away. I shook my head and kicked the door shut. That cat was one ornery motherfucker. Can’t say I blamed him. Poor bastard’s name was Fluffy Whiskerson. He had to wear that shit on his collar. Which was, of course, pink.
I tucked Shelby’s book back in the drawer and turned around to eye her bed. It wasn’t anything special. A double mattress with a light pink blanket and a couple of pillows. It was the frame I liked. Solid metal, with a headboard and footboard sturdy enough to tie someone to.
The bullet vibrated in my hand as I stood there picturing Shelby on her back with her legs spread. How many times had she come on that bed? I grabbed my cock through my pants and sucked in a deep breath. I could smell her in here. That sweet jasmine scent that made my dick hard. I wanted to watch her. See how she played with her little toy. Did she think about me when she was touching herself? Or did she think about someone else?
Like her fucking date!
I went from turned the fuck on, to pissed the fuck off in point two seconds. I was still hard as hell, but now I wanted to hurt someone. Her date would be ideal. Except I still didn’t know who it was. I’d find out, though. What I really wanted to do was slit the motherfucker’s throat, but that would be what Lou called an ‘overreaction’. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t kill him. If I did everything I wanted, the Order would’ve put me down a long time ago. Micha wouldn’t have had a choice. Even I knew the shit in my head was fucked up.
I slipped the bullet in my pocket. The next time Cherry Pie wanted to play, she’d have to ask permission.
Let’s see who she fucking thinks about then!
I glanced down at my watch. Time to go. I hopped out the window and climbed down the lattice to the backyard. Shelby’s house was one of those two story, white picket fence deals. There was a flagpole in the front yard. A firepit in the back, with matching patio furniture, and a sandbox in the corner. The same all-American family bullshit as half the houses on this block.
It was the inside that separated them. And not the decorations, or happy family pictures. That shit was fake as fuck too. It was the people and the things they did in the dark. Shelby’s neighbors had secret swinger parties, and the guy down the street was a regular at Malum. His wife didn’t want to know the sick shit he did there. Everyone had secrets, even sweet little Shelby. What would she do to keep Riley from finding out about the skeleton in her closet?
I rounded the corner and reached for my car door, pausing when I spotted a red BMW parked down the street. Was that Preston’s car? Did Lou tell him to follow me? I wouldn’t put it past him. It wasn’t like Preston to leave his car in plain sight, though. Especially when he was tailing someone. Of course, it could be someone else’s car, but who in this neighborhood could afford a BMW?
Curiosity had me sauntering over to look in the window. Yeah, it was Preston’s. I recognized the skull and crossbones Zippo on the dash.
So where the fuck is he?
The thought had barely left my head when I spotted someone hopping over a fence behind one of the cookie-cutter houses lining the block. There was no mistaking that jean jacket. It’d become an identifying mark for Preston. The other Knights talked about it, wondering why he favored the thing. It was pretty generic. At least, to them, but I was with him when he got it. He took it off one of my old man’s friends. The same guy he used to invite over to play with Parker. Let’s just say, what that fucker did to his brother was nothing compared to what Preston did to him.
“Fucking dog,” Preston grumbled and turned around, freezing when he saw me.
His hair was disheveled – nothing new there – and he had blood dripping down his arm. Probably why he was cursing a dog. A brief moment of surprise flashed across his eyes before he casually strolled over.
We were two sides of the same coin, him and I. Both ruthless and cold. Neither one of us had an issue taking someone out. I enjoyed it. Took pleasure in pain and suffering, but Preston… he just didn’t care. There were only two things Preston actually gave a shit about. His siblings, and the Knights. His parents didn’t even make the list. There was no doubt in my mind that the fucker could pop a bullet in one of their heads and sleep like a baby.
I tipped my chin at him and said, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Shouldn’t you?” he shot back.
“I’m not missing midterms.” I pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one. “Aren’t those kind of important?”
“Don’t have any today.”
“So, you had the day off and decided to. . . what? Explore the suburbs? Didn’t take you for the barbequing and mowing the lawn type.”
His cold eyes rolled up. “Curiosity killed the cat, Logan.”
It wasn’t like Preston to be evasive. He didn’t have an issue telling someone what he was doing. If they didn’t like it, it was their fucking problem. Especially if he thought they might cause him trouble. Then they became his problem.
“I’m not a cat,” I said with a smile.
What could I say? I liked poking the fucker. He came close to shooting me once. I kind of deserved it, though. Never take away someone’s revenge kill. They earned that shit.
“No, you’re a pain in the ass,” he muttered. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Checking out Shelby’s thong collection.”
I didn’t have a problem telling people what I was up to either.
He huffed out a sigh. “Micha talked you into going for her, didn’t he?”
Preston was the one that told me to stay away from Shelby because she couldn’t handle my shit. He was also the one that said if I kept denying my urges, they’d find a way to come out. That was after I was given my first girl at Malum and Lou gave up on his psychiatric bullshit. I was pretty sure he wrote me off as a lost cause after that. Preston didn’t. He stepped in and gave me the ‘put your demons on a leash’ speech. Considering he had to do the same thing, his advice wasn’t just helpful, it worked. Now, I had a lot more control.
“She’s my doll to play with, remember,” I pointed out. “Maybe I just decided to play?”
“That’s the problem, Logan. That girl isn’t ready for your kind of play.” He opened his car door and reached in to grab his Zippo. “You don’t know how to tame shit down.”
“I can tame shit down.”
“Sure. Now you can. But she’s gonna do something to piss you off, and then what?”
I took a long drag, pulling a lungful of smoke down my throat. Don’t get me wrong, I valued Preston’s opinion, but how I handled mine was none of his fucking business.
“Why the fuck do you care?”
“I don’t,” he said, lighting his own smoke. “Do what you want, but if you’re not careful you’ll end up with a broken doll.”
Why did I get the feeling he wasn’t talking about me?
He leaned back against his car and exhaled a stream of smoke. “Broken dolls aren’t any fun.”
“Are you worried about my doll breaking,” I glanced at the fence he’d hopped over and said, “Or yours?”
His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.
Bingo.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got her locked in a cage somewhere in one of these houses?”
“That’s a good fucking idea,” his eyes shifted my way, “But no. She’s too young to take.”
My lip curled, “You’re not into some toddler, are you?”
I was only half joking. With Preston, you never really knew.
“She’s sixteen, asshole!” Preston snarled, “I’m not a kiddy diddler.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” I let out an exaggerated sigh and slapped my hand over my heart. “I was worried for a minute there.”
Preston shook his head and grumbled under his breath.
“Sixteen’s not too young.”
Shelby was sixteen.
“Not to an eighteen-year-old. I’m twenty-one, dickhead,” he huffed out a puff of air, “And trust me, sixteen’s too young.”
“So, you’re just going to wait two years?”
He shrugged in response.
Huh? I had to hand it to him. I’d be surprised if I made it to the end of the week. “What if someone else takes her?”
“She knows her place.”
“Ah, so you’ve paid her a visit then?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Preston grumbled, while taking a drag of his smoke.
“Actually, I do.” Cherry Pie would be walking out of school in about ten minutes. I flicked my butt and said, “Good luck with your two year long case of blue balls.”
“Asshole,” he muttered. “Do yourself a favor, Logan. Find a playmate before you take shit too far and break the girl.”
“That’s what Malum’s for,” I sang over my shoulder as I sauntered away.