Chapter 37 (Asher)
“Are you even paying attention?” Breslin asks, clapping her hands in front of my face.
I look down at the stacks of index cards on the living room floor of Landon's apartment.
Tomorrow is the Ethics final—because evidently Mrs. Rogers is the antichrist and scheduled it for Sunday even though our classes were on Mondays and Wednesdays.
I look at the luggage that's piled up on the other side of the living room and grimace. Landon's at the Black Spoon performing, but he's leaving for England early in the morning. Which means he won't be here when we take our final.
“Of course I am,” I say when she gets up off the floor.
My eyes zero in on Breslin's ass when she walks to the kitchen for a bottle of water and I bite my knuckle. I am most definitely paying attention.
She walks back over and sits down Indian style on the floor. Then she takes her hair down from its messy bun and runs her fingers through it. “What is the principle of Utility?”
I catch a whiff of some vanilla-strawberry mix that I know is from the shampoo she uses and I can't help but lean in. Those green eyes of hers go big when I run the tip of my nose along her throat and inhale her.
She shoves me away. “Uh-huh, I knew you weren't paying attention. You need to focus, Asher. If you don't cut the shit I'm studying on my own.”
How the hell am I supposed to focus when she's sitting across from me looking good enough to eat?
“Landon was a nicer tutor,” I mumble under my breath.
She levels me with a stare. “Yeah well, Landon has the patience of a saint. I, however, don't have that luxury because I'm studying for my final here, too.”
I pick up an index card. “What is the principle of Utility?”
She makes a face and lets out a groan that goes straight to my cock. “You can't ask me the same question that I just asked you.”
I grin. “Sure I can. Unless, of course, you can't answer because you don't know.”
I can see the challenge in her eyes now and my pulse speeds up. As much as I love spending time with her, I equally enjoy getting a rise out of her. And deep down inside, I think she enjoys it too.
She straightens her spine and clears her throat. The move pushes those tits of hers out and my mouth waters. “That an action or behavior is morally correct or obligatory if and only if the action maximizes pleasure for the greatest number as a net result.” She crinkles her nose and shoots me a snide smile. “Utility is a teleological principle.”
Goddamn, she's fucking gorgeous. I want to devour every last inch of her before the night is over.
I press my pen to the sheet of paper that Breslin insisted we use to keep track of how many questions we got right during our study session. “You know, I was going to say the exact same thing.” I put a check mark next to her name and then mine. “Would you look at that? We're really on a roll tonight, baby.”
She arches an eyebrow. “God, you are such a bullshit artist.”
I start to smile, until her expression turns serious. “Asher, if you don't put in the effort and pay attention you're not going to—”
“Football season is over,” I bark before I can stop myself. “It doesn't really matter if I pass or fail this stupid shit anymore.”
“Wow.” Her tongue finds her cheek and she cocks her head to the side. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she answers, scooping up some index cards. “That old habits die hard.”
When she makes to stand and leave, I reach for her hand and yank her back down to the floor. “Why is me passing this ridiculous final important to you?”
“Because it's not important to you.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “You and Landon are the most talented people I've ever met in my life. But unlike him, you've always had everything handed to you.”
“That's not—” When she gives me a look I grind out, “Okay, that's sort of true.”
As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Other than the last few months at Woodside, I've never had to work for a damn thing in my life.
When she leaps up, grabs my face, and forces me to look at her, my heart tumbles over itself. “Just try, Asher. Prove to yourself that you can do it, because I know you can.”
The unwavering belief that Breslin apparently still has in me is enough to move mountains and part seas.
“Okay,” I say because when she looks at me like that, like she used to look at me, I'll do anything she wants.
She quickly releases her grip and my body aches at the loss. Breslin never touches me anymore, not unless we're having sex with Landon, and to be perfectly honest? I fucking hate it. It's just another reminder of the brutal fact that the two of us aren't together and we'll never be.
My chest tightens. It's just another reminder that she's his.
But she was mine first.
When she goes back to her spot on the floor, I hold her gaze because something she said before doesn't sit well with me. “You know you're talented too, right?”
She opens her mouth to protest, just like she always does whenever I praise her art, but I cut her off before she gets the chance. “We got an A in art because of you.”
It's true. Mrs. Kennedy practically had a heart attack right there on the spot when Breslin showed her our final project. Every single painting Breslin did was gorgeous and they all packed so much emotion it's all everyone in the classroom could talk about.
She shuffles the stack of index cards and looks down. “I'm not talented like you and Landon are.”
“Bullshit,” I say and she holds up a hand.
“Look, people are going to be lining up by the millions to see Landon perform one day, and you're going to have football stadiums packed while you throw endless touchdowns.” She chews on her thumbnail. “But me? I mean, what exactly am I gonna do? Open an art gallery or something?” She clutches her chest and laughs. “Who would even buy my sorry-ass paintings anyway?”
I look her right in the eyes. “Me.”
I'd gladly buy anything and everything Breslin paints in her life.
I'd do anything to put that beautiful smile on her face. I'd do anything to make her happy again.
“I appreciate it, but it's not gonna happen. Architecture is my best bet. It's the practical choice.”
She means easy. It's the easy choice. I'll let this slide for now, though, because if I keep pushing the issue, she'll just get up and leave. And I need her to stay. Besides those few times in Art class, this is the only moment alone that we've had together in over three years. Therefore, I intend to make the most if it.
“I usually study better if there's a reward.”
She rolls her eyes and looks down at the index card. “You're not a child.”
“Breslin.” The tilt of my voice must give me away because she looks up at me.
“Okay, fine,” she concedes. “What do you want?”
You.
She catches herself and a blush creeps up her cheeks. “I'm not having sex with you.” Her eyes turn hard. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Who happens to also be my boyfriend,” I remind her.
She looks down her nose at me. “Just because he allows you to have sex with me it doesn't mean he'll be cool with us having sex without him present. In fact, that's kind of one of the rules we have and why we all agreed to this arrangement in the first place.”
I ignore that last part because I'm too focused on the first part of her statement. “Because he allows me to have sex with you? Christ, what century are we in?”
“You know what I mean,” she whispers.
I cross my arms over my chest. “No, I really fucking don't.”
She looks away and huffs out a breath. “You know how weird our situation is, Asher.” She closes her eyes. “We're in love with and dating the same person. And when you love someone, you do things that you know will make them happy.”
And here I was under the impression that while Breslin might not want to be in a relationship with me again, she most definitely was sleeping with me because she wanted to.
My heart squeezes and then free falls with the reality that she just dealt me. And suddenly, I need to remind her what we had.
“If I get the next question right, then you have to kiss me.”
Her head whips around. “What?”
I give her a lazy shrug. “You heard me. Unless, of course, you're afraid.”
“I'm not afraid of anything.” I don't miss the hint of nervousness in her voice now. “But I'm not kissing you. And the fact that you would even want me to when we're both dating Landon is—”
“Fucking hell, Breslin. I'm inside you at least once a goddamn week, pounding you out like a fucking ketchup bottle while he stuffs his dick in your mouth. You think Landon would give a shit about a kiss?”
Her eyes widen, and then her mouth opens, slams shut, and finally; opens again. “Five questions.”
“Three,” I argue and her nostrils flare.
“Fine. But you have to get them all right. No exceptions.”
“Bring it on, baby.” I tap my skull. “I'm a lot smarter than you think I am.”
She practically gulps as she starts going through the index cards. “My choice of questions.”
I smirk and her eyes fall to my dimples. “Of course.”
She holds a card in front of her face. “What is Ethnocentrism? Also give me an example.”
It's an easy question but I wrack my brain, because Breslin's not going to accept some half-assed answer. Slowly, something jiggles inside my neurons. I remember that class lesson vividly, now. Breslin was wearing a low-cut pink sweater that gave me a hard on. She hates wearing pink and she once said redheads couldn't pull it off, but she couldn't have been more wrong, because she looked gorgeous that day.
“It's a judgmental view that interprets all of reality through the eyes of one's culture. Basically, it's a form of bias. And I guess an example would technically be Hitler, given the bastard felt he was superior and everyone else was inferior.”
She blinks. “Correct.”
I lean in closer. “Give me another one.”
With shaky hands, she picks up the next card. “How does one account for the difference between women as compared to men?” Her gaze sharpens. “If there is such a thing.”
I almost want to smile because I remember that day in class clearly as well. Not only because it wasn't that long ago, but because Mrs. Rogers was out that day and Landon had to teach the class—and the lesson that day was feminism. He looked so fucking hot up there with his Mohawk and tie, the serious expression plastered on his face as he spoke with such conviction made me harder than a rock. The sex between us all after class was hot as fuck, too.
“Of course, there's a difference, Breslin,” I start, and that earns me the middle finger from her. “Women by nature are nurturers. Therefore, they think differently because of their assigned social role.” Breslin looks down, but I continue, “And since women are society's child-bearers, women's nature as mothers makes them natural caregivers. They want to protect and love their young. It's practically instinctual.”
“Right,” she whispers and I tuck a finger under her chin. When she looks at me and I see the pain flickering in her eyes, I feel like the biggest asshole in the world. “Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't—”
“I know.” She inhales a breath and releases it. “Not your fault I'm so sensitive about that.”
I cup her cheek and she leans into my touch. “I wish you would have asked me what the similarities between women and men are because I would have answered that women can be just as big of assholes as men. The bitch didn't deserve you, Breslin. And I hope that poor excuse for a woman wakes up every day of her life feeling the regret and impact of losing you.”
Because I sure as fuck do.
She gives me a small smile that wraps around my heart and I edge forward, both hands cupping her soft cheeks now. When her tongue darts out to lick that lower lip my dick grows hard against my thigh. Fuck the consequences, I'm so desperate for her I could explode.
Her breath hitches and I drop my forehead against hers. The air between us is thick with so much tension that it would only take one small move, the tiniest action, to ignite the spark between us into a full-on inferno. Because once she gives me an inch, I won't stop there. I want it all. I want everything that was mine.
“Give me another one.”
She doesn't pick up an index card this time. “Definition of ethics.”
Holy fuck. That question is so easy it won't even be on the final. “A philosophy which studies the nature of moral rightness,” I say, ghosting her lips, my craving for her cracking the surface, threatening to consume me entirely. “Principles that govern a person's behavior—”
I don't get a chance to finish because her mouth is on mine and I fucking detonate. I nibble on her lip until she parts her mouth and then I glide my tongue against hers, tasting every inch of her. This kiss is so different from the ones we share when Landon's around.
Because this kiss is all us. Only us.
She tastes just the way I remember. Like sunshine and sunrise...like fucking air. Like everything I've always wanted and nothing that I will ever deserve. She tastes like my past and my future. Like regret and remorse and second chances.
She tastes like the one who got away and then found her way back to me again, right where she belongs.
She breaks the kiss first, but when I pull her back to my mouth she drags her fingers through my hair and moans. But it's not enough, it will never be enough. I need every single morsel of her.
I tug her hair until her head falls back, exposing her throat. Slowly, I lick my way down until I meet the sensitive dip where her pulse is pounding wildly and suck it. Then I move her t-shirt over the curve of her shoulder and plant kisses over my favorite freckles there.
“Asher.” The sound of my name on her lips has me prickling with an insatiable kind of need. I want to hear her say it over and over again while I'm balls deep inside her. But when I look at her, there's uncertainty and panic in her eyes and it fucking kills me.
I find her sweet mouth again and give her gentle kisses until she grips my shirt and her teeth graze my lip, begging me for more.
And I give it to her. I kiss her with everything I've got, everything I feel for her.
She leans back and gasps for air, her mouth swollen. When she props herself on her elbows, I settle between her legs and push her until she's flat on her back, caging her in with my forearms. A moment later I'm grinding my dick against her, letting her know just how much I want her and what she does to me.
I stroke the skin above the band of her jeans and she breaks out in goosebumps. And when I feel her start to tremble, I work my way down her body, kissing and licking every inch on my journey.
“Asher,” she rasps when I bury my head between her breasts, my breath and tongue leaving damp patches on the fabric.
I push her t-shirt up, taking in her black lacy bra. When I see her taunt nipples peeking through, I yank it down until her tits pop out. Before she can protest, I pluck one of her nipples into my mouth and lave it with my tongue. “I fucking love your tits,” I groan before I pull the puckered pink flesh into my mouth again and suck.
Her hips shoot up and she whimpers when I move to her other nipple and give it the same attention.
“We can't,” she pants out. Her words are the equivalent of being dunked in a vat of ice water and I sink my teeth into her skin until she yelps.
“We can't do this,” she repeats, trying to shove me away.
I pin her arms down and look at her. “Give me one good reason why.”
“Because of Landon.” Her eyes darken and pain flashes in them. “Because I'm not you.”
Her words sting far more than I thought they would and I release my grip on her. I try to get a hold of my emotions, but fail. This girl will forever have my heart and mind in a vise, and I'll forever be paying the price for my mistakes.
“And who am I, Breslin?” My voice comes out desperate and tattered. I need her to realize that I'm not the sum of my mistakes or the bad events that tore us apart. I need her to see that I'm still the boy who loved her...and the man who always will.
She reaches down and skims my lips, the contact sending bolts of hunger through me like a warm knife through butter.
“You're my undoing.” I kiss the pad of her thumb and she closes her eyes. “My beautiful poison.”
And she's my antidote. She turns the static down in my head when the world becomes too loud.
Some days she's my calm when everything around me is chaos. And others? She is my chaos.
She's the flip of my switch and the match to my gasoline. My fire and brimstone and my beautiful angel.
She's my Breslin. I was done for the day she turned those beautiful green eyes my way and let me love her.
When I flick open the button of her jeans and tug her zipper down, she starts shaking. “We shouldn't. Landon—”
I silence her by biting the denim between her legs, making sure she feels the sharp sting. She arches her back and groans in response and I take the opportunity to push her jeans down further.
I run my lips over the little turquoise heart that's smack dab in the middle of her white panties and all my blood rushes south. She's so wet I can see the outline of her pretty pussy through them and I can't help but lean in for a taste.
“Oh, God,” she breathes and her hand goes to my head, urging me on.
I look up at her and suck in a breath. Her hair is wild, her eyes are hooded, and her body is flushed as she writhes against my face.
Not even hell could be hotter than Breslin Rae right now. I've corrupted my little ivory princess and brought her over to the dark side with me. A place where her white knight Landon can't save her, and I'm loving every second of it.
I slide a finger over her pussy, the fabric of her panties sticks to her wetness as I tease her and I can't help but grin when I move them to the side, baring her glistening lips to me.
And that's when I hear the click of the door. In a flash, Breslin yanks her jeans up and fixes her shirt. But it's too late...he saw us.
To say Landon is surprised at what he walks in on would be the understatement of the century. His jaw flexes and his eyes narrow, and combined with his haircut, black tank top, and tattoos, he looks every bit the part of the angry and brooding rocker right now.
Except his anger isn't for show, because the vehemence simmering in his icy brown eyes tells me he's fucking pissed. Which of course, only makes me even more enraged. Because he has absolutely no reason to be mad or upset. Breslin isn't his.
Breslin springs up and rushes over to where he's standing. Then she folds her hands around his neck and kisses him.
“We were waiting for you to get home,” she whispers against his lips and my heart spasms.
Like hell we were. It's quite obvious that what I was about to be partaking in was a dinner for one, not two. Besides, Landon's far from stupid, he knows what he walked in on. And yet, she's trying to justify it. Or worse, deny it.
Question is why? What happened between us wasn't wrong and she shouldn't be feeling guilty about it. Landon wanted all of us to be together—and here we fucking are. Together.
He drops his guitar case. “That so?”
Breslin doesn't answer him, instead she pulls him in for another kiss and pushes him toward the couch. When he falls against it, she straddles him. “I want you so much,” she says between long kisses that leave him breathless.
It's one hell of a distraction because he doesn't even spare me a glance. He's so wrapped up in her, she's the only thing he can see.
I know the feeling well.
When she takes off his shirt, he starts to speak, but she clamps her hands over his face and kisses him again and again, silencing him with her mouth and body. “Fuck, I'm so wet for you. I couldn't wait for you to get home.”
His eyes go hazy and my heart beats painfully against my chest as she sinks down to her knees before him.
I always knew there was a thin line between love and hate...but there's one hell of a line between lovers and enemies too. Because that's exactly what Landon is now—or rather, what he's always been.
She looks so innocent and full of adoration, so willing to please him, it makes me sick. But then again...I was there when she handed him her heart. I watched her fall in love with him over these last few months and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it.
She licks her lips and runs her hand over his hard on through his jeans. “Tell me what you want, Landon.”
Christ, it's like I'm not even in the room.
Landon tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want your lips around my cock.”
The sight of her lowering her head combined with her soft slurps as she takes him into her mouth feels like a thousand knives stabbing me at once.
He winds her hair around his fist and jerks his hips up, matching her movements. And that's when he looks in my direction. “Feels so fucking good, baby.” Wrath douses his statement and there's an obscure and dark note to his voice that's unmistakable.
My insides roll and I seethe right down to the bone. The pendulum that my feelings for Landon swing from snaps in half and I walk over to them. I know he's pissed, but I'm not going to stand by and watch him try to take her from me again. The moment Breslin and I shared before tells me that while he may have her heart...I have her fucking soul. It's time I remind the both of them of that.
I push the coffee table out of my way and kneel down behind Breslin. “You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him.”
Breslin halts her movements at the sound of my voice, but I shove her jeans and panties down in one fell swoop and smack her bare ass. “Almost as pretty as you look when I'm fucking you and making you come.” I kiss along her earlobe, tilting her head so she can look at me. “You want me to fuck you and make you come right now, don't you?”
She closes her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. She's caught in a catch 22...because there's no way she can deny how much she wants me. Not even when she's with him.
They both stay silent as I raise Breslin's arms so I can take off her shirt. I don't miss the way she shakes when I undo her bra and cup her tits in my hands, planting a hot line of kisses over her skin while I look right at him.
With a look that could melt a glacier, he pulls Breslin and leads her back to his cock so she can continue pleasuring him.
I grind my teeth, this is the ultimate game of tug of war if there ever was one.
His head lolls back and his lip curls as she resumes her sucking. He opens his mouth to say something, but I nudge Breslin's legs apart, spread her pussy, and thrust inside her...causing her to moan around his dick. She's so wet the sounds of me fucking her fill the room. Soft and slippery sounds that harden all the angles of Landon's face.
I pick up my pace, taking her in long and deep strokes. I pull back slightly and when I notice Breslin's arousal coating my cock, I whisper, “You're soaking my dick and dripping all over my sac, baby.” I thrust into her again. “Is this what you were hoping I'd do to you before Landon came home tonight? That I'd take you just like this while he was gone?”
Breslin freezes and before I know what's happening, Landon's hand is wrapped around my throat. I've never seen this side of him before, but I guess everyone has their breaking point.
My response is to grin and raise my chin. “Do it, I fucking dare you.”
I shouldn't be goading him considering the predicament we're in, but this shit has been marinating between us for a while now. It's time we bring it out into the open. I'm tired of feeling like I need to ask his permission to fuck her or look at her. I'm tired of her looking at him like he strung up the goddamn moon and handed her all the stars in the universe. In other words, the way she used to look at me.
Breslin bolts up, but Landon latches onto her arm with his other hand.
“Let him keep fucking you, Bre.” His voice is sharp and he's practically vibrating with anger now. “I mean, that's what you were gonna do before I walked in, right? You were gonna let him fuck you while I was gone, weren't you?”
“No—” she protests, but he puts a finger over her lips, silencing her.
His gaze ping pongs between the both of us. “Since I'm here now, you might as well continue.” The anger in his eyes is replaced by pain, and despite the hand around my throat, the fury in my chest, and the fact that he's the one acting like an asshole in this situation, my heart pulls for him.
“Landon—” she starts to say, but I've had about enough of this shit. He brought it upon himself. I'm about to reap this fucked up web he sowed for us.
I drive into her hard, my balls slapping against her. “You wanted this,” I remind him, working my dick slowly, drawing out each thrust until her pussy clamps around me, begging me for more. The hand around my throat begins to constrict and I slam into Breslin violently. I'm so mad at the both of them I can't even see straight. “Hell, you fucking asked us for this, Landon.”
His hand goes slack and he sits stoic and silent, but there's a storm brewing on his face and I relish in it.
I grab Breslin's hips and she drops her forehead against Landon's chest. Her face is a mixture of euphoria and utter heartbreak as she comes apart. A moment later she squeezes my dick so hard, I groan her name, shooting my load inside her as she convulses.
When my eyes connect with Landon's again I sneer, “But then again, our situation only works for you when you can delude yourself, huh?”
I open Breslin's pussy and my dick jolts when I see my come dripping out of her as I pull out. Eyes on him again, I snort. “This way, you're safe and protected in your little bubble of bliss and you don't have to deal with the fact that you'll always be second best.”
My words are cruel and at the heart of it, I don't mean them, but I'm so fucking angry all I can see is red.
That is until a sharp punch to my face has me seeing spots and I rear back, blood spewing from my nose.
Breslin turns around and her hands fly to her mouth. “What the fuck, Landon!”
She goes to kneel down beside me, but I stand up at the same time Landon lurches up from the couch, tucking his dick back in his pants. That's all he has time to do, though, because I throw a punch and he tumbles back.
Less than a second later he comes toward me, but I'm already prepared for him. Breslin's screaming her head off, shouting at us to stop, but I send my fist flying into his face again.
Landon's stronger than I give him credit for, or maybe it's the indignation coursing through him because he yanks me by my collar and head butts me. Given it wasn't that long ago that I suffered a severe concussion, pain radiates throughout my skull and I close my eyes and shove him the hell away. Only I don't connect with the hard planes and muscle of his body. I connect with Breslin's soft curves right before she slams against the floor and my heart jumps to my throat.
“Fuck,” Landon says before he takes a step forward and points to the front door. “Get the fuck out.”
I ignore him and look at Breslin who's huddled up on the floor, drawing her knees to her chest. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean—”
“I know you didn't,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “But I think you need to leave.”