It’s normal that I want Lexi as much as I do, you know? She’s always been one of the nerds; no living, breathing guy with a functioning dick gives a fuck.
Lexi chose early on in the sixth grade to alienate herself from the popular kids in school. Back then, we’d called them every infantile name in the book. Nerds. Losers.
I say “we”, because thanks to my father’s social circle, I’d been drafted into the popular crew the moment I stepped foot in school.
Even back then, Lexi had been adorable. Round, blue-gray eyes. Full pink lips. Those big blond curls falling over her shoulders.
No wonder she grew up into what most guys at school have dubbed “the Destroyer.” Adorable isn’t the only adjective she can proudly claim. Her style isn’t particularly In-Your-Face sexy—something Kaylee and her clique love to tease Lexi about relentlessly—but nothing in the world can hide that type of attractiveness.
It’s blatant. Wild. Leaks into every part of her personality, so that just the sound of her breathing leaves you panting in response.
Watching her walk leaves you a throbbing, pre-coming mess.
Hearing her voice keeps you up all night, jacking off back to back, because you can’t stop imagining what it’d be like to hear her moan your name.
I’m sure you can guess the real reason Kaylee and all her friends despise Lexi. They know damn well that all the guys at school walk around in a haze of sexual fantasies, all thinking about the one girl that doesn’t even try to get their attention.
Nerds, emo-fucks, and jocks alike are ready to prostrate themselves at Lexi’s feet, sans clothing, if she would so much as smile in their direction.
Anger sparks at the thought. As always. I can’t deal with that reality. Hate ruminating on how all the other guys want her as much as I do. That shit drives me crazy in ways even my father can’t.
Pushing it all aside, I glance at the purple gift bag I’m holding as I walk into the gym.
It’s Lexi’s eighteenth birthday today.
I never forgot the day her birthday falls on. Not even after we were seperated at ten.
I’m early, so I get busy turning on the lights in the back office. I place my book bag on the side table by the couch. Last second, I decide to hide the giftbag on the floor, behind the couch.
I want to surprise her.
Unzipping my bag, I pull out my advanced computer science textbook. Lexi thinks I’m failing that class.
I’m not.
Yes, I lied to her about that. Don’t think I’m not aware that I have more of my father in me than is healthy. Unlike my father, however, I am capable of feeling guilt.
And I do. Every day that she sneaks out of her house to come meet me, because she thinks I’m failing a subject that I’m actually passing.
With honors.
Why did I lie to her?
Why does anyone ever lie? Either because they’re trying desperately to get out of a situation, or because they want something so bad they’re willing to risk that age old threat of eternal hell to get it.
The opportunity presented itself, longing choked the ever-living fuck out of me, and I couldn’t fight the impulse to take it.
For years, I’d watched my old friend from afar, missing her. Knowing what my father had done to her family. I’d just wanted to have the right to talk to her again.
When that aforementioned opportunity popped up, no preternatural, Zeus-gifted willpower could have stopped me from taking it.
The door creaks open out in the hall. “Andrew?”
God—Nature—whatever the fuck is out there—what the hell did you do when you allowed that girl to come into existence?
Ungh, that voice. I freeze on the spot, eyes closing. Hating and savoring the heat that drums through my veins, pounding its way straight to my cock.
Her voice is how I imagine an ancient sex goddess’ voice would’ve been. If this is how the ancient Sumerians imagined that Inanna’s voice sounded, no wonder man eventually rose up and obliterated her legend.
No female, even a mythical one, should be allowed to have so much control over man.
It’s not an exaggeration, either. Every fucker at school goes glossy-eyed whenever Lexi so much as hums near them.
The perfect soft rasp; the epitome of the term “sex voice”. Every time she says my name, I die a little more inside.
“Andrew?”
Shit. I need to hear her moan for me—don’t care if it ends up being the death of me—and I can’t fucking have it.
One day I’m going to snap and take it anyway.
“Andrew, are you here?”
I clear my throat, sitting down on the sofa as fast as I can. My text book gets positioned just right, so that it covers my aching hard-on. “Yeah. I’m in here.”
Jesus, talk about rasps. My voice is straight up laden with sex.
I clear my throat again.
Three deep breaths, and I convince myself that I’m ready to face her. That, although my dick still throbs to the beat of her name, I’m well on my way to getting my reaction under control.
She stops in front of the door.
My entire world grinds to a halt.
Jesus.
Air . . . Can’t breathe . . . Motherfuck, this hurts.
My.
Fucking.
God.
Son of a bitch.
Shit, I think I’m wheezing.
Legs.
Those breasts.
That hair.
The eyes.
Red lips.
Lexi all dolled-up—no, fuck that, sexed-up.
Like I’ve never seen her before.
It’s the hardest blow of my life.
And, it’s the exact moment in time I realize that girl has to be mine.
Whatever it takes.
Whatever it ends up costing me.
Mine.