Lustful Hearts
Chapter 2: Six Years On- P2

I wanted to rip him limb from limb until he was nothing but a heap of dismembered body parts piled up on the floor.

He laughed, openly mocking me. "How are you going to kill me when you can't even move?" He emphasised his point further by slowly running his nose along mine. I immediately stopped breathing. Every part of my body reacted to the soft sensation. I focused on the fact his lips were barely inches from mine.

Despite my many death threats, he was the one killing me. Every look and every touch was pure torture. I wanted him so bad, but I knew that to him this was only a game. I had to fight against it, despite the fact every part of my body was willing to surrender.

I thrashed my head to the side, screwing my eyes shut. I felt his soft lips brush up against my ear. "Iz, give me the charger, and I'll let you go."

"No, never," I growled, screwing my eyes tighter.

I would never back down.

Not while there was still breath left in my body.

"Well, you're giving me no other choice but to get, it myself then."

My eyes wrenched open at his words. My head snapped round to catch his wicked grin. I knew he was about to take great enjoyment in what he was about to do, and a rush of excitement ran through me at that very thought.

He grabbed both hands together and gripped them tight in his large, overly strong ones. I tried in vain to twist them free, but his vise-like grip was too much. I flinched slightly in surprise as his other hand slowly slipped down my body, brushing against my ribs, resting on the bottom of my T-shirt. He held it there for several moments, and we both panted together, staring deep into each other's eyes.

Oh god.

My heart rate accelerated, and I trembled in anticipation, holding my breath, waiting for his next move. My eyes grew wider, feeling the material shift up, slightly exposing my skin. I gasped lightly when his hand softly grazed against my belly button, sending shivers through me. The plug began to uncoil out of the safe confines of my bra. The sensation of the metal prongs drove me over the edge as he painstakingly dragged the charger slowly along my skin.

I could tell I was affecting him too. His lust filled eyes continued staring deep into mine, igniting the flames inside even more. He parted his lips slightly, flicking his tongue over his lower lip, teasing me. I wanted those lips on me right now.

As if reading my thoughts, his face moved achingly closer to mine. I closed my eyes, willing him to give me the moment I had dreamt about so long. I literally stopped breathing, waiting for his sweet, soft lips to finally touch mine.

For a few moments, he hesitated.

Then a huge wave of rejection slammed against my body when his lips brushed against my forehead. My eyes fluttered open in surprise. I tried desperately not to express the look of bitter disappointment I knew was about to cross my face.

"See that wasn't so bad, was it? I think you may have even enjoyed it," he said grinning, his eyes filled with amusement.

His words were like cold water against my skin. They quickly extinguished the strong, intense flames I was feeling only moments before.

"Go to hell," I snapped, no longer wanting to be part of his cruel game. I tried my hardest to appear unaffected even though I wanted to scream until my throat bled. He chuckled, slowly pushing himself off me. I closed my eyes, breathing deep, to try to gain some kind of composure.

When the door creaked, my eyes wrenched open and he shot me a cheeky wink before closing the door. I screamed with frustration, despising myself for the hold he had over me. I heard his laughter all the way back to Mike's room, rubbing more salt into the gaping wound that was my heart.

But this was nothing new, the years of constant teasing and ridicule had taken their toll. I had to change, to grow a thicker skin. It was no fun living with these two idiots. I kept out their way most of the time, it was the simplest solution to escape the torment.

I never let my guard down or expressed my feelings, especially the ones I had for Joel. I kept those locked away. What started out as a silly first crush had developed into something deeper. It consumed me, but as it was not reciprocated, I guarded that secret with my life, knowing it was one I'd never tell.

As predicted, Joel had become a huge hit with the ladies, attracting attention wherever he went. No matter his reputation, the girls made it their mission to get with him. It became unbearable to watch and as it happened on a regular basis, it became my own personal hell.

I'd go crazy hearing all the stories, the detailed conversations about I guy I would never have. The tears and the all too familiar tight pain in my chest became my routine. I had my own coping mechanism, never giving into it until I was safe in the confines of my room.

Only then, I'd allow myself to grieve before locking it away again. It was how I dealt with it. I had to turn my feelings off before it swallowed me whole; dragging me into a world of darkness I would never escape from.

After finishing school, Joel began working in a pub called The Cock and Bull. Which was ever so ironic considering he was so full of bullshit himself. It was the perfect pulling ground for him to practice his technique, packed with eagerly willing gorgeous girls all after a slice of Joel. He never failed to go home empty handed. Mike was just the same. He had the looks and the body that enabled him to attract his fair share of attention from the ladies.

Joel would spend the majority of his time at our house, almost from the time he and Mike met. He looked on it as more of a home than his own, but that wasn't hard considering his circumstances.

We lived in a four-bedroom house in Camden, London. My mother, Helen, had gotten divorced from my dad, Geoff, when I was ten. He had the typical cliché affair with the secretary in his office, which had totally devastated my mother, and so they separated.

Shortly after, my dad took a position in Sydney, Australia. His firm was expanding at the time, so he was given the role to manage the company there. I was never the same with my dad after the affair. I saw the irreparable damage it did to my mother.

Despite several attempts at contact we drifted apart, the devastation was too much to bear. Once he moved to Australia, it was like we didn't exist anymore. We'd receive birthday and Christmas cards with a cheque inside, but his life had changed and we no longer factored into it.

Up until the affair, my dad was the closest person to me. He was the one I would confide in; he was my rock. My mother had always been jealous of our relationship, never accepting the fact I was a Daddy's girl from the moment I was born. I loved my mother, but she had a way of getting under my skin.

She was constantly overbearing and high-strung, always wanting to know every detail of my life. I resented how intrusive she could be at times. I liked my privacy, not welcoming her interference in parts of my life that I tried desperately to keep hidden.

I missed my dad's laid-back attitude, his patience and kindness. He had nurtured my book obsession, taking me to book fairs, instilling in me from a young age the joy of escapism through the pages of a book. He was the one who bought me all the classics, taking the time to learn and understand the real me. He never pressured me to be something I wasn't. He was my entire world, until he ripped it to shreds, until it was broken and beyond repair.

Joel lived not far from us, only a couple of streets away with his dad, who to put it bluntly, was an arsehole. His mother had died in a hit and run accident when he was four. and since then his dad had raised him alongside his uncle. Well I use the term 'raised' loosely, for the best part of his life after his uncle relocated for work, Joel had basically brought himself up.

Joel's dad never praised or gave him any credit for any of his achievements, always taking great delight in enlightening him on his many failures. I came to the conclusion that nothing Joel did would ever impress him. The amount of alcohol he drank didn't help with his anger issues, and being of the whiskey variety that was enough to stir up trouble.

I would often overhear snippets of conversations between Joel and Mike about their arguments, but then there was the obvious signs, a black eye, a split lip, the number of times unexplained bruises would appear on his body.

My mother had tried to intervene, but Joel had asked her not to say anything, which in the end she had relented, much to her own displeasure. So she did the next best thing in opening our home to him, so he'd always have somewhere to escape to when things got bad.

After an hour of escapism with my Kindle, I headed downstairs in need of a caffeine fix. Joel was busy making coffee too, but he was too distracted by the music to notice me enter.

I stood mesmerised in the doorway, watching him hum and tap the spoon along to the beat as his muscles flexed with each movement. Everything about him was just so captivating. I would often find myself lost in the moment as I took him all in. The majority of the time I managed to get away with it, but on the odd occasion he would catch me, the smile he wore told me he knew it.

But I was not even close to forgiving him for his earlier stunt, so I breezed through into the kitchen, purposely giving him the cold shoulder.

Joel spun around grinning, but I'd had enough of his cruel games. He didn't deserve my attention. I secretly took great delight in knowing my deathly silence would get to him.

His lips curled up into a grin, clearly enjoying my little act. His eyes surveyed my every move as he waited patiently for me to look at him.

But I refused. I would not break.

"Do you want a cuppa, Iz? I'm making one for us." His eyes burned into me, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement. I carried on ignoring him, grabbing a cup before reaching into the cutlery draw for a teaspoon.

I leaned past him to get the coffee jar, but he grabbed it, quickly holding it aloft out of my reach. I blew out some air in frustration. It was all just one stupid joke to him. He always did get such enjoyment from torturing me. You would think he'd be bored by now, but still the games continued.

I jumped up to grab it, but he stepped back, much to my dismay.

"If you want the coffee you have to speak to me, Iz."

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

I made several more attempts to leap up to grab it, but it was beyond useless.

I squealed in frustration. "Just give me the coffee, Joel." I stood back and crossed my arms over my chest. I was not in the slightest bit amused, I was about to blow.

"Say please and I will," he answered smirking.

Ugh, I wanted to knock that smug smile off his face so bad. Here we were back to playing these childish little games he so easily got a thrill from.

"Please," I muttered, hoping it would end my torment.

"Please what?" he asked chuckling.

I glared at him as I knew exactly where this was heading. "Please, Joel, can I have the coffee." I moved towards him, but he stepped back, holding the coffee in the air.

"Uh huh, please, Joel, you are the king and the master, and maybe I'll think about it."

What a complete idiot.

I shoved him back hard, and he let out a small groan when he hit the counter. "Get stuffed, I'll go out and get a coffee. I'm not stroking your ego you're big headed enough as it is."

"I know what I would like you to stroke," he remarked grinning. He suggestively raised his eyebrows, emphasising the point further.

Oh god.

His words had the intended impact, and I instantly felt my face flush. "Fuck you, Joel."

I needed to get out of here, Like Now!.

I spun around to storm off, but he grabbed me, pulling me back into his hard chest. With one arm holding me in place, his other hand tucked the loose strand of hair behind my ear. I groaned softly when his fingers brushed lightly against my skin, gently stroking my cheek.

"Only joking, Iz," he whispered.

I felt his hot breath tickle against my face, sending shivers down my spine. He breathed deeply, pressing his nose against my hair, then placed a soft kiss there.

I gasped lightly in shock, it was such a sweet move that it threw me. It was so completely out of character, and I needed a minute to process it all. I stood clutching his arm and he held me for a few more moments longer.

He slowly released me, and I stumbled a little, shaken by the fact I'd been wrapped in his arms only seconds before.

I quickly grabbed the coffee to keep myself occupied, turning my back to him. I needed to regain some kind of composure.

After a minute I heard him start whistling, and he headed back upstairs, acting like nothing had happened. Which was typical Joel, and unfortunately, for me the story of my life.☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐

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