her do all those years and use what God gave me.
“Get the hell out of here.” He nods to the closed bedroom door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DEKE
SHE STANDS THERE, back still against the wall, looking every bit of pissed and turned on all at once. Ignoring her, I go to my walk-in closet and grab a shirt off the hanger. I feel like going out for the evening, and there’s a party on campus that I can hit up. I need to get drunk and hook up with some stranger ’cause all this pent-up aggression I have for Demi is giving me a headache. Not to mention blue balls.
When I walk out, she’s still standing there, blue eyes glaring into mine and arms now crossed over her chest.
“I’m better than her.”
The bitch is convincing. I’ll give her that. A part of me wants to believe her, but I know the truth. She’s just another spoiled Holt who thinks she deserves every little fucking thing she wants.
I snort.
She lifts her chin. “At everything.”
I toss my shirt onto my unmade bed and smirk, looking her up and down. Wanting to really look at her. Is there a difference? She wore a pair of skinny jeans, cuffed at the ankles with a plain black T-shirt that’s just short enough to show me a little sliver of her tan stomach and a pair of black heels, giving her every bit of an extra five inches. Just as Becky would. But it doesn’t suit her. I found her much more attractive in the oversized shirt and underwear she had on last night. With Demi, less is better. But her words don’t match her actions. She looks identical to Becky in every way.
Her eyes go to my shirt on my bed and then back to mine. I watch her anger toward me build in them for every second I just stand here, letting the silence linger between us. She hates me so fucking much. I wanna wrap my hand around her elegant neck and demand she tell me why she’s here in my room. Is she trying to prove to me that she isn’t Becky?
What is it that she wants from me? Whatever it is, she isn’t going to get it.
I walk over to her, and she squares her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever I’m about to throw at her. “How are you better?” I press my body into hers again, and of course, my cock is hard. But it’s not her, it’s the game. I get off on fucking with people. The challenge.
Right.
I lower my lips to her ear. She stands perfectly still with her hands hanging down by her side. “Can you lie on your back longer?” My right hand grips her hair and yanks her head back. It hits the wall with a thud. Becky was made to be loved. She may have been a whore, but she needed to feel like she meant something—cherished. She didn’t like a hand around her throat or to be spoken to like a cheap fuck. Demi is gonna be the same way.
Little Miss Priss wants a prince to save her, but this monster will rip her apart. It’s hard to smile when you no longer have a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying beauty is only skin deep? Rip Demi of her expensive name-brand makeup and fake tan, and she’ll shatter every mirror she comes into contact with because she won’t be able to stand the sight of herself.
Her eyes fall closed. Long, dark lashes fanning her cheeks. When they open, she looks up at me and sighs my name. “Deke …”
I hate how it makes my hard cock twitch with longing. Just as it does when her sister says it. “Can you spread your fucking legs farther?” My left hand comes up, and I run a finger over her parted lips, and I lick my own, still tasting our kiss. She tasted sweet like honey. I wonder if her pussy tastes as good. Her breath quickens. “Can you suck my dick harder?”
Her eyes narrow on mine. “Yes.”
Fuck, I’d love to shove her to her knees right here and now and have her show me. But I don’t plan on touching Demi. Ever.
I smirk and pull away from her. “Go home.” I reach over and open my bedroom door. “I don’t play with little girls.” Her hands fist, and I don’t miss the marks that the zip tie left from me binding her wrists behind her back. I