Page 4 of Mortala
If anyone here finds out about my life back home, I may never get the chance to move forward. If that means I need to be closed off, then that’s what I’ll do.
2.Miles
I shouldn’t keep puttingmyself in these fucking situations. Last night, Izzi called me drunk as fuck again, going on and on about how she still loves me and wants me back. Every single time she does this shit, I find myself in the same situation.
I go to her room and she pulls me in, sitting me on the edge of her bed. She straddles my lap and kisses me until I’m stripping her naked and fucking her. The next morning, it’s like the night before never happened, or she treats it like it was all just a huge mistake. I know exactly what will happen, and yet I still find myself getting pulled into this same routine, walking my happy ass to her dorm as if I didn’t just deal with this shit the last time.
I just can’t seem to help myself when it comes to her, which would make sense seeing as she’s the first girl I ever slept with. Diving back into her sweet pussy is like eating a fresh meal after being starved for weeks, and I’ll happily devour her again. Because honestly, who wouldn’t?
Izzi and I have a long history. We started dating when we were kids, maybe about twelve years old. I barely hit puberty when I realized how good it felt to have someone rub up against the front of my jeans. It didn’t take long after that until we were exploring each other's bodies when our parents weren’t around.
My parents were super close to Izzi’s, and would often go on double dates, usually dinner or a movie. They made the mistake of trusting a couple of horny teenagers to be alone together with a bed knowing damn well what would eventually happen. Maybe they just didn’t care, because they always talked about the future Izzi and I would have. Our mothers were best friends in college and loved planning the future wedding they swore we would have, gushing over becoming grandparents together. Our lives were all planned out before we were even born.
Unfortunately for them, we broke up right before our freshman year of college. Izzi said she wanted to ‘experience all that college had to offer’, and how it would be better for both of us if we went into it single. Bull-fucking-shit. I knew that meant she just wanted to fuck other guys and blow as many dicks as she could. It’s been two years now, and since then, she continues to prove me right.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt at first. I truly thought Izzi was the love of my life. It took some time, but after seeing her straddling some other guy's lap with her tongue down his throat, and his hands full of her ass at a party freshman year, I stopped giving a fuck about whatextracurricular activesshe took up in her free time.
It was also the night I fucked her best friend.
Sucks to fucking suck, brother.
Rolling over on my side, I stretch out, a guttural groan leaving my throat.
“You need to leave,” Izzi says in her no nonsense voice, whacking me with what I assume is the TV remote.Ugh, not this shit again.I don't know why I expected anything differently this morning, but fuck, it’d be nice to sleep in for once and not be beaten awake.
“Damn, good morning to you too,” I growl, already fed up with her bullshit.
“I’m serious, Miles.”
Something in her tone makes me pause. She’s not looking at me, her eyes focused on the clock that hangs above her desk. She looks tense, like her nerves are eating her alive.
What the fuck is her problem?
A knock sounds at the door and her entire body goes rigid. That’s weird.
“I’ve got it,” I say, pushing to my feet.
“No!”
The word flies out of her mouth so fast, it almost startles me. I raise an eyebrow, looking at her as if she grew another head. She just smiles at me, and I swear I see a bead of sweat glisten on her forehead.
“I mean…don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.”
Before I can question her, she’s already crossing the room and opening the door. Standing in the doorway is Chase, a smooth grin plastered on his face before his eyes land on me, his expression faltering almost instantly.
“Jesus Christ,” he laughs. “Didn’t realize I’d be interrupting.”
Alright, that’s definitely weird. Why do they both look like they’re hiding something?
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He gestures at the backpack hanging over his shoulder and smirks. “Making a delivery, brother.”
What the hell?
“Since when do you take shit, Iz?” I ask, looking between the two of them.
Izzi’s face goes pale for half a second before she recovers.
