The Destruction You Desire by Tracy Lorraine
Peyton
Anger burns through me like a wildfire, but the second his hand closes around my throat it turns into an inferno.
His hard, cold green eyes stare down into mine and the only thing I can think about is the explosion that's about to happen when he takes what he so clearly craves.
His chest heaves, his hot breath fanning my face, the scent of alcohol on it filling my nose, which makes my mouth water for a taste.
We might not be able to talk like sensible adults like we should, but it seems that since we reconnected, we're able to vent our anger in much more carnal ways.
My body melts into his touch. My impatience grows as my head and judgment becomes completely clouded by his touch and his scent.
Fuck, I need this. I need this badly.
Something startles me, but I have a feeling that the house could collapse around us right now and I'd barely even notice.
It's just him. Everything is him.
When his lips finally slam down on mine, I immediately give myself over to him. Drowning in the man—the boy I loved so hard has turned into. I forget at that moment that I don't like him, that I want to hate him for everything that he's done to me these past few weeks and I give in to what my body craves.
He kisses me deep, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. Claiming me, taking me, owning me.
My head screams yes, and my body demands for more as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. Although I fear that nothing will be close enough right now.
He sweeps me off my feet, both figuratively and literally and we move through the house, the music fading into the background behind us as I continue to drown in his scent, in his touch.
"Luca," I moan when my back presses against his bed, my body on fire to feel his lips on me once more. But he doesn't comply, instead, flipping me over in favor of getting me naked.
My dress is gone in seconds along with my underwear as his hands move around my body as if he doesn't know where he wants to touch me first.
He parts my thighs, staring down at me with hunger in his eyes. A hunger that I want to swallow me up and never let me go.
Ripping open his fly, he pulls out his hard cock, rubbing it through my wetness.
"Oh God, please."
He drops lower, pushing inside me in one thrust and I cry out in delight until something startles me and my eyes fly open.
My head feels like it's full of cotton, my mouth is vile and my body aches. Although the desire coursing through my veins is impossible to ignore.
What the—
Where am I?
My heart thunders against my ribs, my skin flushes with my… my dream?
"Shit," I pant.
I lower my head but movement on my thigh makes me jump once more and when I look down, I find a hand.
"Oh my God," I whisper, risking a look at the person who's beside me. "Luc? Shit."
I fall back onto the bed, immediately realizing that it was a mistake because everything around me spins. Throwing my arm over my face, I focus on trying to catch my breath.
However, that all goes to shit when his hand moves, parting my thighs once more and finding my slick core.
"Luc, what the hell—that wasn't a dream, was it?"
"Partly. Listening to you moan my name spurred me on."
He pushes two fingers inside me, and my body locks up.
"No." I try scrambling away from him, aware that none of this should be happening.
I can't even remember how I got here.
"Just give me this, baby."
"We can't… this isn't—"
Pushing up from the bed, he crawls between my thighs. He's only wearing a pair of boxers which doesn’t hide the package I already know it covers.
His fingers curl inside me, hitting that part of me that makes me see stars.
"Oh God."
"You're going to let me watch you come, baby," he tells me, his voice rough and deep making butterflies erupt in my belly. "And then I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll never forget having me inside you. You'll never forget what you've done to me." The edge to his voice hints to the new version I've met over the past few weeks that I'm not at all fond of. But then he folds himself over me and runs his lips over my jaw as his free hand slips under the shirt I'm wearing until he finds my bare breast.
A thought flickers through my mind as to how I ended up here, in what I can only assume is his bed wearing nothing but his jersey.
Aware that it's probably something I'm going to regret, I push it all from my head as he pinches my nipple at the same time he presses against my G-spot and I forget about everything.
Our reality. How I ended up here. My raging hangover.
The only thing that exists in this moment is us.
Those two lost kids who crave to find the connection that we once had.
"Luca," I cry as his teeth sink into the soft skin of my neck as my orgasm crests.
He pulls back, staring down at me, captivating me with his hungry green eyes, but as much as I want to hold my steady gaze on his, I can't, and mine slam closed as I ride out the pleasure.
"Oh God," I pant as I come down from the high.
"So fucking beautiful," he breathes, pushing the jersey up so he can feast on my breasts as he grinds his length against my pussy.
It's like we're horny teenagers once again desperate to go all the way but terrified to make that move that we both know will change things.
"I hope your stomach is feeling a little more settled," he murmurs against my burning skin.
My brows pull together in confusion but before I get a chance to ask what he means, his hands clamp down on my hips and a squeal rips from my lips and he flips me over, my face pressing into the pillow as his weight lands on me.
"I don't want to be cleaning up any more of your puke," he breathes in my ear.
"M-my wha—"
My words are cut off when his fingers thread into my hair.
"How much did you drink last night, Peyton?"
"Uh… I don't know. It was my birt—"
"Don't care," he snaps, pulling my head to the side so I can see him. "You passed out in my arms, P. You could have ended up in anyone's bed this morning."
A shiver of fear runs through me knowing that he's right.
I wouldn't usually drink as much as I did last night but it was my birthday and I had a lot of shit to drown out. I also trusted that Elijah and the others would take care of me. Clearly that wasn't what happened.
"Elij—"
"Don't even say his fucking name, Peyton. I know who he is. I figured it out after I walked away yesterday. He was the boy who used to spend time at your house as a kid. He was friends with your sister. What he is not, is your boyfriend," he growls in my ear.
"I-I never said—"
"No, but I have a very good reason not to believe a single word that falls from your lips."
Tears burn my eyes as he talks and my head continues to spin with confusion.
By all accounts he looked after me last night, cleaned me up after I threw up. How can he go from that to… to this?
My bottom lip trembles as I try to keep everything inside. I don't want to appear weak in front of him but everything is just too much to deal with right now.
"Don't even think about it, Peyton. I don't want your fucking crocodile tears."
"This isn't my fault, Luca. If you believed—"
"No. Don't you dare put this on me. I wasn't the one hiding a child, a brother, from me all these years. What did you think would happen, P? That I'd never find out?"
"N-no, of course not. I wanted to tell you but you—"
"Enough. I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit. You're going to do what I say, and then you're going to leave. You're going to walk out of my room and out of my house looking like the filthy slut that you are."
"No, Luc. Please."
His fingers slip between my legs once more dipping inside and as much as I want to feel nothing at his touch, it's not the reality because his fingers burn me from the inside out as he slides them inside me.
"So fucking wet, P. You're desperate for my cock again, aren't you?"
I bite down on the inside of my cheeks to stop me from responding because I'm not sure what words will come out if I do.
Part of me wants him to go fuck himself. But the other part, the dark and twisted side of me that Luca seems to have found in the last few weeks, wants everything he's threatening me with.
I want… The punishment. The pain. The torture.
His fingers dive deeper making my hips lift from the bed.
"Fuck yeah. Tell me what you want, P," he demands.
A growl rumbles up his throat when I shake my head in refusal.
His fingers slip around my throat holding me in warning.
"Tell me what you want, P," he grits out as if he's right on the edge of his control. "I want to hear you beg for it."
"I-I want you," I whisper, my hips lifting once more, my body fully on board with what he's offering me while my head is having a harder time at joining the party.
"You want my what, baby?"
I suck in a breath, my defiance almost getting the better of me. But I know what will happen if I stand my ground. He won't give me what I need and not only will I leave here full of regrets, but I'll be frustrated as well.
"I want your cock, Luc," I say with a confidence that I know he'll get off on.
"Fuck yeah, you filthy slut."
"Luc," I scream as he lifts me with one hand and surges inside me without warning.
His intrusion burns as he stretches me wide open and bottoming out in one move.
He doesn't give me any time to get used to him, he pulls out of me almost immediately before he begins fucking me like a man possessed. The bed bangs against the wall as our bodies become slick from the exertion.
My head spins with my lingering hangover mixed with the heady desire only Luca manages to drag up inside me.
"Oh God," I cry as his fingers tighten in my hair and he shifts behind me and pulls me to my knees with only my hair, his length never once slipping from inside me.
"You shouldn't feel this good, baby. It almost makes me not want to do all the things to you that I've imagined for five long years."
His fingers tighten around my throat as he pins my ass back against him with his tight grip forcing my back to bend painfully as he continues to thrust inside me.
"Do them," I growl. "Punish me. Hurt me. Do whatever you want."
"Fuck, you drive me insane, baby."
"Good, that makes two of us."
He pulls me to one side so he has access to my neck and shoulder and he sinks his teeth into my skin.
"Oh shit, Luc," I shout as pain shoots from where I'm sure he just broke the skin.
"You're mine, Peyton. And you're not going to forget it."
He pistons into me, his movements becoming erratic as his cock begins to swell even larger inside me.
"Come for me, baby, or you're going to lose your chance. Who knows when I'll be feeling generous enough to give you two again."
"Luc," I cry as his fingers tighten on my throat until stars begin to appear in my vision.
He releases my hip and his fingers find my clit, the movement against my skin vicious but perfect and precise as he plays me to the perfect crescendo.
"Luca," I scream as the most powerful orgasm I think I've ever experienced slams into me turning my muscles to mush and making me go limp in his hold as wave after wave races through my body.
He holds me up, thrusting into me three more times before his own roar of pleasure fills the room, sending aftershocks of ecstasy shooting around my exhausted body.
The second he's done, he releases me, giving me no choice but to flop on his bed in a heap, my muscles still quivering with my release.
"No better way to forget a hangover than to fuck it out. Thanks. You can leave now."
It takes everything I have to lift my head to look at him but the second I do, I regret it.
His face is an emotionless mask as he stares at me as if I'm nothing more than a piece of shit on his shoe.
I prefer it when he's angry and shouting at me, at least I know he's feeling something. But right now, he's downright terrifying and so much like I remember of his father that fear races down my spine.
Turning into his father was one of his biggest fears as a kid. He knew from an early age that Brett wasn't the kind of father most kids wanted. He never said well done, or told him he was proud. All the things kids need to hear. I can only imagine how he feels about him now that he really does know the truth.
But staring at him right now, I fear that he's getting closer and closer to becoming the man he feared he’d become.
"What are you waiting for? Get the fuck out before I throw you out."
My chin drops at the coldness in his tone before I scramble from his bed, tugging the hem of his jersey down in an attempt to cover up.
I look around for my clothes, my shoes, my purse.
"Get the hell out," he booms when I don't move fast enough.
Thankfully, I spot my purse on the nightstand beside where I slept and I grab it before he takes a menacing step toward me as if he's going to do exactly what he just threatened.
Part of me wants to stand my ground and see if he goes through with it. But the other part, the bigger part, is just too exhausted to deal with whatever he might deliver should I force that to happen.
Before he gets to me, I race toward the door.
I twist the handle but I don't open it. Instead, I look over my shoulder at his familiar yet totally unrecognizable face.
"You can keep pushing me away as much as you want, but we both know you want to hear what I have to say."
"Get the hell out, Peyton. I don't want you here."
I swallow down the emotion that threatens to clog my throat at how easily he can dismiss me after our time together.
I need to remember that this is who Luca is now. He's cold. Vicious and unattainable.
Just as I close the door behind me, something smashes against it right on the other side of my head. A scream of shock rips from my throat as my legs give out and I start sliding down the door.
"Whoa. I've got you." Strong arms wrap around me before I hit the floor and I'm lifted and carried inside another room.
"I need to leave, Leon," I say, dropping my head into my hands as I sit on the edge of his bed with the evidence of what his brother did to me only minutes ago leaking from my body.
Jumping up, I take a step toward the door.
"What's really going on here, Peyton?" he asks softly. The genuine concern in his voice forces me to look at him.
I wince at the darkening bruise on his cheek that only adds to the healing wounds from the last time they got into it over me.
"I shouldn't have come back here," I confess, my heart shattering with each word. "I knew it was going to be bad, but I never thought it would be like this."
Pushing from the wall where he was watching me, he drops down beside me.
"Why does he treat you like he hates you, Peyton?"
"Because he does," I state simply.
"Yeah, apart from he doesn't actually. He's loved you since before he even knew what it meant. That kind of love doesn't just die, Peyton. And don't even think about arguing with me because I know you feel it for him too.”
My lips part to respond but I soon find that I don't have any words to say back to that.
'D-do you have a bathroom that I can use?"
He studies me for a beat, his eyes begging me just to spill everything, to put an end to all the secrets and the lies.
"Yeah, sure." He points to the only other door in the room aside from the one he brought me in through and I push from the bed. "Use anything you want. I'll find you some sweats or something."
I look down at my bare legs in a daze.
Is this weekend really even happening?
"Thank you," I whisper, padding across the room with my shoulders lowered and my heart in my stomach.
Slipping inside, I make use of the toilet before standing in front of the sink with my head down, too scared to find out what's going to be staring back at me when I do look up.
I suck in a calming breath before counting to three.
The second I'm on three I force myself to lift my head to look at my reflection.
"Oh my God," I gasp. No wonder Luca sent me away, I look like a train wreck.
My makeup is literally everywhere, my hair is a matted mess around my head and my neck is red with his hickeys and light bruising from his fingers.
"Jesus, Peyton. You need to get your shit together," I tell myself, reaching for the toothpaste that’s sitting on the side and squirting a generous amount onto my finger.
Once my mouth is a little fresher, I feel a tad more alive. After washing my face, I run my fingers through my hair and call it a day. That's as good as it's going to get while I'm standing in a boy's bathroom.
A loud bang startles me, the floor shaking beneath me as the sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs sounds out. My stomach knots and disappointment floods me knowing that he's running away from all of this.
"Here," Leon says, holding out a pair of black sweats when I step back into his room. "I shrunk them, although they'll probably still be massive on you."
"Thank you," I whisper, my cheeks heating that he's once again seeing me in this state and attempting to pick up the pieces. "I shouldn't have gone last night," I say, unable to look at him as I make excuses for what happened.
"Bullshit, Peyton. You had every right to be there. He's the one who acted like a possessive jerk."
"I shouldn't have been dancing with you. I shouldn't have drank so much. I shouldn't—"
"Stop. Please. None of this is your fault."
A sad laugh falls from my lips. "You're damn right there."
"Talk to me, P." A shudder runs down my spine at his use of one of the nicknames Luca uses for me.
Dragging my eyes from his carpet, I stare into his concerned green eyes as he rubs the back of his neck almost nervously.
"Would you be able to drive me home?"
Disappointment floods his face, but after a second, he nods and reaches for his keys that are sitting on his desk.
