Chapter 11 - I hate you

When my eyes opened, the first thing I felt was the soreness of my bones. I was barely able to stretch. Well, that was mostly because there was a heavy weight behind me, spooning me. I smiled when I recalled what we did last night, and that that could only be Byron.

His muscled arm was draped over me, and he held me so close to him that I could feel not only his chest, but also the steady beat of his heart against my back, and I won't deny it felt nice.

I mean, the last time I had sex with someone and we actually slept together was years ago. With ... Tom, obviously.

I mean, as soon as we're over, I slip out of Jerkface's bed while he watches me with that grin that's so typical of a man whose needs have just been satisfied, cuddling closely, spooning me like Byron was doing and did all night would never even cross Jerkface's mind, I think he's actually pretty happy when I leave.1

Now, Byron's grip on me was pretty tight, and he was pretty heavy, therefore moving wasn't easy, so I settled for just glancing over at his nightstand to see what time was it. 7.45 am. I ought to be at work by 9 am, which is when both Mr. and Mrs. Coleman leave for their respective jobs, leaving 4-years-old Jackson with me.

Starting from this week I'll also cover more shifts at the ice cream parlor, seeing as the other girl left, and I offered, just to get some extra money, and given what I did last night and how sore I am, I wonder how will I able to stand today. Hopefully Jackson was worn out by the weekend with his cousins, so he'll be calm, opposite to the usual.

Slowly, I started moving, trying to sneak out of bed without waking Byron, and after something like ... 20 attempts, I made it. My ... my bones were so crispy when I stretched. But recalling that the sex god now sleeping peacefully had me pass out for the intensity of the orgasm only brought a naughtily satisfied, happy smile on my face. I guess there is a good competitor for Jerkface.2

Not that Al is bad, hell, no, he's freaking good too, but ... had I to make a chart, I'd say he comes third, while the other two kind of even out each other, maybe Byron wins on intensity, while Jerkface wins on number.

Either way, all three of them are more than up to the expectations. I'm afraid poor Rebecca will barely be able to move after a night with all three of them together. Somehow that's no deterrent. If anything, it only makes me more eager.

Seeing as I'd discarded my blouse in the living room, I grabbed one of Byron's t-shirts from his wardrobe, and that was enough to cover me till my knees. No surprise, he's so massive compared to me. I grabbed my panties and shorts, and got ready for the walk of shame towards my bedroom. Hopefully the other two weren't awake yet.

Of course, luck wasn't on my side. Because when I had the brilliant idea of slipping into the kitchen to grab some water - my throat was so dry, I felt like I'd been in a desert for weeks – I found the familiar sight of a dark-haired head focused on the stoves. Of course, how could I forget? He wakes up before all of us every morning to cook breakfast.

Trying to be nonchalant, despite my predicament, I cleared my throat, and greeted: "Good morning, Will." I even tried a small smile. He only grunted in response, of course. I swear, I don't even know why do I bother this much.

Why do I even try to be kind with him? He's done nothing but treat me like garbage ever since I came here, the sole moments he's appreciative is when we're in bed. I should probably quit giving in. Be it only for a matter of pride.

Then I think of how damn good he is, and of the eventuality of all four of us together and ... meh, I can put up with his moronic attitude for the sake of great sex.

I went ahead, and grabbed my water from the fridge. The aroma waffling in the air was delicious, my mouth watered already, but before eating I ought to take a shower. I'd have wanted to thank him for yesterday's kind gesture, but hardly would he accept my gratitude, he'd probably spit it back in my face, saying some rude comment about how he did it only because he hates whiny chicks. He can be so mean sometimes. With me, mostly.

I moved to live the kitchen, yet his voice froze me in my spot: "Enjoyed your night?"

There was annoyance in his tone. I bit my lip, recalling how loud I've been, despite my best intentions. "Uh ... sorry if we um ... kept you awake."

His back tensed. Almost imperceptibly, but it did, even if he concealed it by flipping the pancakes. "You keep me awake every night. What's the difference in this one?"1

Son of a ... that was a fucking low blow. Remind me, why the hell do I put up with his shit? Right, he's fucking good at fucking my brains out. Well, it just so happens that his best friend might be better – ugh, what am saying?

Even though Byron gives me the chills – positively – I'm still fucking addicted to this jerk's touch. No matter what, Jerkface just got me addicted to his fingertips on my skin. Damn.

Okay, I shouldn't be cursing so early in the morning, but it was in my head, so it was fine, right? Hey, living with three guys, one of whom cusses like a sailor, these things tend to rub off on you, you know.

"The difference is, this time I was screaming your best friend's name. Does that bother you?" I just couldn't bite my tongue.

Will's back tensed even more, I could see it even if he was fully clothed, hell, I could even hear the sound of his teeth gritting. Yet he went on flipping the pancakes, almost nonchalantly, as he spat: "Who you fuck or not is none of my concern, Rebecca. I'd just rather if you kept it on silent mode. You scream like a deafening siren when you come, did you know that? I think even dogs complain."

Is it right that I wanted to strangle him already in the early morning? You have no idea how hard was it, but I did keep my cool. "And you grunt like a dying gorilla when you come, did you know that?"

Will merely shrugged. Why does he have to be always so nasty with me? He barely ever acknowledges my existence, unless it's for the sex, and 8 times out of 10, he's a nasty son of a bitch. What the hell have I done for him to hate me so much?

I glared at his back for a good minute, till I got tired and turned around, ready to stalk my way to my room, yet his words froze me once more: "Next time you wanna fuck my best friend, make sure you're gagged first."1

Fucking son of a bitch. Who does he think he is? I gritted my teeth, my nails digging in my palms as I clenched my fists. "Next time you need a fix, go fuck a hooker. This bitch's legs are closed for you, William Foster."

He snorted. "As if I even cared."

I glared, so much that, if looks could kill, by now he'd be in ashes. But then, I realized, why should I let him spoil my mood? I just woke up from such a heavenly night, why should I let Jerkface here ruin it for me?

Hence, I merely smirked. "Last time you said you were, and I'm quoting, 'addicted to my pussy'."

Will didn't reply instantly, clear sign I'd just burned him, I thought I'd won, but ... the comeback came a few moments later: "A man would say anything for a good fuck, you should know that."

"Yeah? Well, you're at least admitting you like it."

He snorted. "I'm a man, Rebecca. Even if you fucked like a broken sail, I'd still fuck you."

"Because I'm as hot as a fucking goddess?" I taunted, a smug smirk on my lips as I left my hand on my hip.

Will snorted. "Because I'm too busy working and studying to get another doll."1

I was gonna get violent. I abhor violence, considering I've been submitted to it more than a few times, but this prick here was begging for my knuckles to collide with his jaw. He's always been a jerk with me, but never like this. There was always a word limit.

"Tell me, Willy, what got your panties in a twist? Did your Barbie break? Don't worry, we're gonna get you another one, no need to be all pouty in the early morning." I sneered, unable to retain myself.

I never spit such venom, and tha, honestly, came from that time when one of my sisters fought with her boyfriend, she said that to him, so it's not mine, but I needed to find something sharp to say, not to let him win.

Will snorted. "I don't know, you tell me, doll face, are you broken?"

Ughhhh! Damn him and his quick intelligence. He always has a sharp comeback. But I wasn't going to lose this. No, no. "Then what is it? Are your panties too tight?"

Will lost his cool for a moment, but he concealed it well by switching off the gas. "It is that I've got lectures and work, and your high-pitched screams of cat in heat kept me awake. It is that seeing you in the early morning puts me off. It is that I'd rather you hadn't even entered this fucking house. That's all."1

My blood was boiling, and his last words cut deep, I can't deny it, but more than hurt, I was furious. That's why, other than run away in tears, I stormed to him, and stamped five fingers on his face. "You do not talk to me like that, William Foster!" I nearly yelled at his face while he rubbed his reddened cheek. "If you're pissed because I fucked your best friend, just fucking say it out loud! Do not play games."

Will glared at me, but I did the same at him. "I am not pissed. You could fuck the whole fucking world for what concerns me. Just don't be so fucking loud! You scream like a fucking whore, and it annoys the hell out of me! You, Rebecca, your whole being, annoys the hell out of me!"1

I think my jaw was nearly smashing for how much I was clenching it, my eyes shooting daggers at him, as if could murder him just with those. "I hate you, William Foster." I spat, as venomously as I've never spoken to anyone but my family members – receiving a painful punishment right after.

Will merely shrugged. "Good, the feeling is mutual. Now get the hell out of my face, you –" I slapped him again, this time more furiously, so much that his face whipped to the side, and when he touched it, there was a tiny drop of blood on his lip. That only had his glare get deadly, but I didn't waver.1

"If you dare call me a whore again, I swear to God, I will grab my fucking knife and cut your balls off, William Foster." I hissed darkly, not even recognizing myself. "Do not dare disrespect me again!" I yelled.

He didn't even blink, but neither replied. I remained there shooting daggers for second only, then I stormed off. That jerk. Who the hell does he think he is? Having fucked me more than a dozen times doesn't allow him to disrespect me like that. And I was starting to think good of him. How wrong I was.