Do You Dare? by Lylah James

CHAPTER SIX

Maddox

The girl on my lap grinded against me. Her tits were practically spilling out of her tight red dress, and she shoved them in my face. I gripped her ass in one hand and smoked a blunt with the other. Miss-Fake-Tits let out a moan, which sounded straight out of a porn video.

Although I’ve seen better acted porn. She was inexperienced and quite an amateur. Trying too hard, with little self-respect.

Easy pussy, easy fuck. I didn’t have to hunt for them; they landed right on my lap.

“Maddox,” she purred in my ear. My jaw twitched as I caught a whiff of her strong perfume and the stench of alcohol was strong on her breath. She was fucking drunk and humping me like a bitch in heat.

Any other day, I’d be all up in her pussy… tonight, my dick was not in the mood.

Or I guessed, I was not in the mood for her.

On the opposite couch, Colton had his tongue shoved down a girl’s throat. Brayden and Cole were in a heated conversation about this week’s football match. We won, big time. Leighton High School wasn’t even worth our time. Knox, our best linebacker, was missing, but he was probably in a room lost in a pussy.

And I was fucking bored.

Drunk and bored.

The party we crashed was lame, and I needed some kind of action, something to get my blood pumping – something dangerous. I was itching for a fight and a fuck. Too bad the girl on my lap had absolutely no effect on my dick.

Her lips parted, and I felt her tongue on my neck. She sucked on my throat, biting teasingly. “Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere quieter.”

“If you wanna fuck, we do it here.”

She pulled away, her green eyes hooded and confused. “Here?”

I lifted an eyebrow, amused. The only reason she was sitting on my lap and humping me was because she needed to fuck a Berkshire football star, so she could go around and rub it in the other girls’ faces. I was her ticket to being Miss Popular at Leighton Public High School -- Berkshire’s rival.

“Too shy for a little audience?”

She looked around, stammering, “No-o.”

I squeezed her ass, not even bothering to be gentle about it. That was a warning. “I don’t do sweet girls.”

Nah, sweet girls didn’t do shit to my libido.

Feisty girls, though, yeah… they made my dick hard.

Full of sass with brown eyes, black hair, curvy hips and a pretty Latina ass that would make any man drop to his knees, begging for a taste.

Goddamn fucking trouble she was, but she was exactly what my dick wanted.

Lila Garcia.

Too bad she didn’t want me anywhere near her.

I inhaled through the blunt one last time and exhaled a puff of smoke, not bothering to move my head away. I knew I was being an asshole, but hey… chicks like her wanted jerks like me – so who the fuck cared?

Dropping the now useless blunt onto the ashtray, I leveled her with a look. She scrunched her nose, but her eyes flared with determination. What she didn’t realize – I ate girls like her for dinner before spitting them out two hours later, no guilt with one very satisfied dick.

I curled a hand around the back of her neck, bringing her head closer. “You want a taste of me? We do it my way.”

She looked around again, her cheeks flushed, and she was already a little bit out of breath. “Do you even know my name?”

“Do you know mine?” I threw back, although the answer was obvious. Of course, she knew who I was. Miss-Fake-Tits was only here to use me like I was about to use her. Fair game.

“Who doesn’t? You’re Maddox Coulter. And for your information, my name is Madison.”

She thought she was special. Newsflash – she wasn’t the type of girl I’d wake up the next morning with. I arched an eyebrow with a tsk. “Here’s the thing, I don’t need to know your name to fuck you.”

Miss-Fake-tits, er… Madison, wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Her hips moved in a circular motion, quite tempting as she practically grinded against my dick through our clothes. Any passerby would have thought we were fucking.

She let out a fake giggle. “Didn’t your mommy or daddy teach you some manners?”

She was teasing; it was a fucking joke.

But the silent rage inside me bubbled over, threatening to burst through, without any care of the consequences. Fuck her. And fuck mommy and daddy dearest, too. Manners? No, they didn’t teach me any – just like they didn’t give a fuck if I lived or died, either.

I crashed the party because I wanted to forget.

But Madison, aka Bitch, right here, just pissed me off even more.

She reminded me of why I was here, made me think of my fucked up parents when I was so hell bent on forgetting their existence.

Daddy dearest caught me smoking today, lounging on the couch and watching TV. He walked in with his business associate. Oh, he knew I smoked, except he never cared. But Brad Coulter didn’t want me to set a bad example in front of his business partners; his image had always been more important than my health.

“You don’t smoke in my house,” he hissed in my face, taking a threatening step toward me. There was a time when my father was taller and bigger than me. He used to be intimidating, and his words were law in our house. But that time was long gone.

Now, I was bigger… taller… meaner.

He didn’t scare me.

Now, he just pissed me off more often than not.

“I’ve been smoking since I was thirteen. Never knew we had a rule. You didn’t seem to care before, father.”

His lips curled up in disgust, and I felt it. I fucking felt it – his anger, his disappointment, his revulsion. My hands clenched into fists, and I exhaled through my nose. At a young age, I had quickly learned how to mask my emotions until I became a solid wall of nothingness. You’d cut me open, and you’d find something hollow inside.

“I constantly question if you really are my son.”

When I was seven years old, my heart had frozen in my chest. But his words, to this day, could still fucking burn me like acid in my veins. My father held an arrow in his hand, the tip of it aflame, and it was aimed right at my chest – my goddamn heart was his target.

“Nah. I’m definitely your son. You’re an asshole, I’m an asshole. It runs in our blood.”

His blue eyes – the same as mine, darkened and his face was vicious.

“Brad.” My mother’s soft voice interrupted us. “They’re waiting. Let’s go. Maddox, go back to your room. This deal is important to your father.”

I heard her unspoken words. Please, for Christ’s sake, don’t ruin it.

He took a step back, his jaw hard and twitching. Without sparing me another glance, he walked away. I saw the look in my mother’s eyes, her parted lips, and I waited for her to say something. But there was nothing left to say, so she walked away, too.

And so, I’d been dismissed. I saw my parents after three weeks, and without even a greeting, I had been brushed off and forgotten. Yet again.

Just like ten years ago…

When I had needed them the most. I was left behind, locked away in the dark… forgotten.

“Maddox,” she purred in my ear again. I blinked, the past going out of focus, and I crashed landed in the present.

I had called Colton after the ‘fight’ with my father. He didn’t have to ask me questions, he knew what I needed. So, here we were. Crashing Leighton’s party, knowing full well we were about to piss off a whole bunch of people.

Yeah, that was exactly what I needed.

A good fight, a good fuck.

Marley – wait, no – Madison rubbed her hands over my chest and shoulders. “You’re so big and strong. So hard, in all the right places.”

She was so eager to please me, so eager to be just another girl on my list.

My fingers tangled in her hair, twisting the thick blonde strands around my fist. My knuckles dug into her scalp, and she winced, before quickly hiding it with a fake-ass smile. Without care, I pushed her on the ground. She collapsed to her knees with a low whine, her wide eyes blinking up at me, unfocused, confused, and with way too many expectations.

Her pink lips parted, waiting, and I figured why-the-fuck-not. With one hand, I unbuckled my jeans. “Let’s put your deepthroating skills to good use, shall we?”

Her face lit up, and she scooted closer between my thighs. Maybe she wouldn’t be such a bad lay after all. At least she was willing to suck dick. Some bitches thought they were too pretty and fancy to be on their knees.

A loud snarl came from outside, making all of us pause. There was more shouting, and through my hazy mind, I realized Colton was no longer in the same room. Brayden and Cole looked at each other, too, confused.

“Isn’t he from Berkshire?” The whispers started to get louder.

Brayden and Cole shot off the couch at the same time as me. Miss-Fake-Tits shrieked as she fell back hard on her ass. “What the hell?”

No fucks were given.

I buckled up my jeans before marching outside, Brayden and Cole following closely behind. Ah fuck.

Colton was standing in the middle of the front lawn, smiling like a goddamn maniac, while he was surrounded with a bunch of Leighton boys.

“Your girl wanted her pussy eaten,” he announced, loud enough for all of us gathered to hear. “You weren’t doing a good enough job, man.”

The girl in question, who was the same girl on his lap a few minutes before, sputtered a half-ass excuse. Her face was bright red, and she hid behind her friends.

I noticed Samuel, Leighton’s Quarterback, charging forward. Ah, so he was the boyfriend. This was also his party, and we weren’t invited.

Yeah, we were trouble with a capital T.

Colton was able to block the first punch, which only served to piss off Samuel more. He was livid as he tried to bring Colton to the ground, quite unsuccessfully. Pussy.

It was a fair fight…until it wasn’t.

The Leighton boys came forward, surrounding Colton until he was trapped.

“Fuck no,” Brayden growled.

My jaw locked, and the fire inside me burnt like lava, liquid hot and fiery. We cut through the mass of people, the itching need to fight putting all of us on an adrenaline rush.

Without giving it much thought, I yanked one of the boys away, and he fell backward. Weak and fucking useless.

Samuel spun around, his face red and a mask of fury. My fingers curled into a fist, and before he could blink, my fist made contact with his face. Not so pretty face anymore, huh?

He roared but swiveled back around quickly, blocking my next hit. The alcohol was fucking with my senses now, and he caught me in the ribs. The pain coursing through my body fueled me to fight harder and meaner.

He lunged at me, swinging but missing. I could hear the others fighting, the brawl getting louder and messier.

This wasn’t just a fight. It was retaliation. It was a fight based on ego -- who had the bigger balls, who was stronger.

I drove my shoulder into Samuel’s chest, slamming him into the ground. He tackled me back, but I was able to land solid punches into his gut. We were both walking out of here with at least one cracked rib.

My father’s disappointment – punch.

My mother’s lack of care – punch.

My fucked up childhood – punch, punch, punch.

The suffocating darkness, a constant reminder – punch.

My knuckles were bleeding and raw, my left eye was swollen shut, but I. Couldn’t. Fucking. Stop.

Brushed-off and forgotten.

Enraged and lost.

Through my hazy brain, I heard Colton shouting. My head snapped toward him, seeing him rush toward me. My eyes widened for a nanosecond before the bottle cracked against my temple.

My body slumped forward, and my ears rung loud, my chest caving in as I tried to breathe. My heartbeat slowed and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

My vision blurred, and I didn’t see the punch coming.

I only felt it.

My jaw cracked, and I fell back, my head hitting the ground.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Fucking breathe.

The world slowed.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Silence replaced the ringing in my ears as the world went black.