Bad Girl. by E Z (classic novels to read .TXT) 📕

He pressed his lips into a thin line, before leaning down and pressing his face into her neck. His father's words repeated in his mind, and he shook his head against her skin. If she knew who he really was...she'd hate him. "I can't...please, Libia...just be with me tonight," He mumbled.

For a few seconds, she stared down at his blond head. The man was in pain - that much was clear. It killed Libia to think of what his parents had done to him. Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered, "Let's go sit on the couch, okay?"

He didn't say anything, but he let her pull his face from her neck, and slide from his lap. She took his hands, helping him up from the stool and leading him into the living room. She flipped on a lamp so a small bit of light illuminated the room, and sat him down on the couch, which she'd covered with comforters. He pulled her into his lap again, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her scent. 

"You're not a low life," She murmured, playing with the strands of his blond hair.

He didn't answer, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"To have your parents call you that...is an indication that they have no idea who you really are." She whispered, her other hand lying limply on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.

His eyes squeezed tighter, as he wanted to flinch at her words. Why did he think he ever deserved this girl? 

Still, he stayed there, holding her tight to his chest, breathing her scent, knowing that this would probably be the last night he was going to do it...for tomorrow...he'd tell her. Tell her everything. And she would cast him away, just as his parents had done.

He held her closer, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her neck. "Baby," He whispered.

He pulled his head back to look into her eyes, as she brought her hand up from his chest to cup his cheek. He melded his lips to hers, pulling her closer. Tears filled his closed eyes, at the thought of losing her, but he didn't let them fall, pressing his lips harder to hers as she turned in his lap until her legs were on either side of his. His tongue ran the length of her bottom lip, and Libia willingly opened her mouth. Damon groped his hands down her sides, taking the hem of her shirt and lifting it. She groaned softly when his fingertips trailed back up, circling around to the small of her back and tracing tantalizing circles there. 

Libia had never been this intimite with a man. She'd read about it hundreds of times, and wondered what it would be like, but she never expected the effect it had on her. Her stomach was bubbling with butterflies, her hands had a mind of their own as they slid around his torso, clutching at his muscular shoulders with need and the unmistakable feeling of lust. 

One of Damon's hands slid into her hair, before carefully combing his fingers down the black locks, causing sparks to ignite inside Libia and tingles to race down her back. She shivered almost violently as she moaned in pleasure.

All the while, Damon held her almost desperately, clinging onto every sound, every sweet movement of her body against his. The way her hands clutched fistfuls of his shirt, or the loving, slightly clumsy way she moved her lips against his, inciting tender love and overpowering desire all at once. 

How could he let her go after this?

 When he pulled away, Libia panted for breath, her eyes fluttering open to stare into his, but he pressed his face into her neck again, as if ashamed to look at her. "I'm sorry, Libia," He suddenly mumbled.

She was so confused. Was he doing this because he was drunk? Or was there something else he wasn't telling her? 

Never the less, she didn't ask him about it, only whispered words of comfort, shifting so she sat comfortably in his lap and running her fingers through his hair. She knew the alcahol had something to do with it. He wouldn't be showing this side of him if he were sober. He'd be hiding it. Protecting her from a side of him he didn't want her to see. But a big part of it had to do with his family - his past. Just what happened to him?

***

She couldn't remember how his head had ended up in her lap, as he laid stretched out on the couch, sleeping peacefully. She only remembered humming softly to him as he buried his face in her stomach, running her fingers through his hair. Now, her eyes fluttered open, staring up at the ceiling. She shifted, sitting up, realizing that she was still on the couch, but Damon's head was no longer in her lap. She began to look for him, but found him sitting with his forehead in his hand, at the end of the couch.

"Hey," She yawned.

He didn't answer her, his eyes closing at the sound of her voice.

She paused in the act of stretching when he didn't move, nor aknowledge her. "Damon?"

He took in a shaky breath, gathering himself. "I...have to tell you something, Libia."

She hesitated, before sliding onto the cushion next to him, settling on her knees. "What is it?"

He clenched his other hand into a fist at his side, his lips pressing into a thin line. He took in a deep breath in through his nose, his fist squeezing tighter as he opened his mouth...and something completely different than he had intended passed his lips.

"I can't see you anymore, Libia."

Even he had to flinch at the words. Where had that come from? 

Libia blinked, and then laughed slightly. "What?"

Still, he decided that his brain knew better than his mouth. 

"I said I can't see you anymore. So...," His fist squeezed so hard that he could have sworn he drew blood, "Don't look at me...," Tighter still, "Don't talk to me...," Tighter, "And don't...try to help me again!"

Veins in his hand burst he squeezed so hard.

Libia sat, dumbfounded, as he abruptly stood. "This will be the last time we speak. Ever." He tried desperately to hide the rough edge in his voice.

"Damon...," Libia whispered, dread filling her heart.

Had this all been some game, just like Johnson? Had she really been played - again? Although this time, instead of feeling humiliation, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Damon...had been special to her. She'd...she'd fallen in love with him!

Damon made the mistake of glancing back at her face as he strode from the living room. She clutched her hand to her chest, eyes filled with tears, face...crumbled.

His breath caught, and he strode from the room.

Libia flinched hard as the front door slammed, signaling that he'd left...without another word.

A sob bubbled up, and she stood, running to her room.

Dear Libs, I'll be at work all day today and possibly all night. There is a virus going around that is putting people in the hospital, and most of my coworkers have gotten it. You had it when you were young, so you're immune, but keep an eye on your brother for me, he's like me and susceptible to everything.

Love, Mom.

PS: You know you can talk to me about anything, right?

Libia sighed heavily as she read through the letter. Her brother was on his way home from college now. She knew they'd heard her crying in her room, but her mother and her brother knew her. She'd come to them if she needed their comfort. She refused it otherwise. They knew she wouldn't tell them what was wrong until she was ready, either. Still, her mother liked to remind her that she could tell her anything.

Her heart still beat, surprisingly, but she still felt the pain with every thump. She always thought that when people said that they were heartbroken, it was just an expression. It was very literal. Her heart felt like it had been stabbed with a jagged knife, and then had been left to bleed. It'd been a week since the incident with Damon, and she'd sent one of the girls in her dance class up with a letter to her teacher, explaining that she wouldn't be able to make it to class that week. She didn't feel like facing him.

She jumped, pulled from her thoughts as the phone let out a shrill ring throughout the house. Who was calling her home number?

Still, she set down the letter and picked up the phone, checking the ID. 

Her manager's number?

"Hello."

"Libia, thank God. Your brother's here!" Vivi said frantically.

"Vivi? Why are you calling from my work? What do you mean my brother's there?"

"I was buyin' milk for my mom and I was gettin' it checked out and suddenly your brother comes stumblin' in and throws up all over the place and he's lookin' for you and he looks like Death himself!" Vivi finished her ramble.

Libia's heart sank to the floor. "Oh god. Stay right there, I'm on my way!"

Libia disconnected with Vivi, and began to panic. She didn't have a car. Her brother had taken his to college, and her mother had taken hers. "Shit!" She cried.

She paced, knowing that it would most likely give her an anxiety attack to walk there alone. The first time she'd tried after that night, she got to the end of the street and screamed bloody murder when a car went zooming by and startled her. Not to mention, it was raining again, and the ground was partially freezing because of the cold.

But she had to try. This was her brother, and he was severely sick.

She threw on a heavy coat, and grabbed her house key. Her worry for her brother was overpowering her worry for herself ten fold, as she threw open the door. She jogged out into the weather, trying to comfort herself with the fact that it was raining, and she had less of a chance of being attacked.

She ran as fast as she could, despite that, already shivering. She reached the end of the street, crossing the road without looking, and suddenly heard the screetching of tires. Instinctually, a scream left her lips as she threw up her arms as if to protect herself, falling backwards onto her bottom.

She waited for the impact, but nothing came. She opened her eyes to see a familiar BMW. Her eyes trailed up the hood, looking through the windsheild to find an achingly familiar face.

He got out of the car, as she sat there trembling.

"Libia, what the hell?" He shouted over the noise of the rain.

He kneeled down in front of her, his hair already getting soaked from the rain, falling in his eyes. Libia bit her lip hard, and then a sob burst from her lips.

"I-I-I was trying to...to get to the g-grocery st-store because my brother is-is there and-and I have to get him to the ho-hospital be-because he's sick. And I don't have a car and-and-and-and-"

"Libia...," Damon whispered, pained.

"He's sick...I-I have to-to-to-"

"Shh, come on. He's at the grocery store right? I'll take you there."

Libia sniffled pathetically, her breath hitching. She