Deflower

Chapitre Six, La Deuxième Partie

Fingers skimmed across bare flesh, sore lips hardly maintained to be pressed against each other; she wanted soft, she wanted perfect, she wanted delicate, but he hadn't told her that he was the opposite of all three. It was momentary pleasure, one that lurked, jerked, cried and died, even as their skins were pressed so tightly together, there was no true warmth like she had expected (or rather, hoped) to be beaming from his eyes; as she looked into them ever so deeply, they gave shelter to a cold numbness that the girl couldn't shake.

She'd hoped on a hopelessly romantic rendezvous but instead there she was, amidst of the vast walls of the bathroom belonging to a priest; inviting the wild in, devouring the poisoned apple until there was no fiber left, in the home of the untainted. The fact made him smile deviously— part of him wanted so badly to inform priest Guerrero of his wicked escapade, in fine detail, Allistair wished to describe to his divine persona how he'd fucked his godchild. She was a pretty thing, with blonde hair, voluptuous breasts, and flawless skin, but she meant no competition to Lourdes in any way, and he knew it, too.

A kaleidoscope of images of her flashed through his mind as his sticky fingers were in the blondes mouth—whose name he'd already lost elsewhere in the back of his brain: was it Ella? Ellen?—, warps of brown and pink and the face he truly wanted under him corrupting his mind. The blonde girl let out the sweetest moans of intimacy whilst Allistairs expression was too obvious (yet she was too flustered to have noticed); he found their little encounter rather blasé. She'd seared and roared as if she had witnessed the return of the messiah, and Allistair had found it rather complex to not allow his eyes to enclose and fall asleep.

But, she wasn't insatiable; and after a good twenty minutes, she as though fainted, collapsed atop his vast chest—to say that he was relieved would be a blatant understatement. He deftly got dressed once again, reluctant to the obvious stain upon his designer pair of jeans— one his mother would scold him to hell and beyond for—, and per he wished to exit the bathroom, his eyes caught sight of Kyle and the latter of his. Kyle arose one of his brows, and smirked upon his friend; he was no fool, and if Allistair was caught with untamed hair and an unbuttoned blouse, he was very well aware that it could only mean one thing.

"It seems you've had your fair share of entertainment," Kyle began, voice low and tone taunting. Of course, Allistair knew, a snarky remark of some sort would follow closely upon his—barely— polite entrée, "fucking the pain away, already, aren't you— if I were you, I'd give up, now, you know, to spare yourself from the embarrassment." Allistair only scoffed in return. Some French profanity voluntarily escaped from his swollen lips; rightfully proving Kyles suspicion.

"Well, then, if you've got little Lo wound around your finger, why don't you ask her to accompany you to the movies next week? I'll bring a girl of my own and so will Tommy— hell, if I'm lucky, I'll have them both on the way back to my house," Allistair chuckled, Kyle rolled his eyes inwardly— he couldn't believe that his comrade was so full of himself when he hadn't once been able to fully satisfy a girl, and so he knew. Kyle served as the one who had a taste after Allistair did, and although they were often upon cloud nine after sleeping with the alluring Frenchman, they could hardly walk or speak when Kyle was done with them.

"You're on, Allistair," Kyle stated as he began to walk again; eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, as though a predator hunting upon his prey, his eyes searched for the beautiful figure of young, beautiful, but poor Lourdes. His eyes sought every inch of the garden, but no luck. As one of his costly shoes had become untied, he hugged, not because he was tired— because he was lazy. A soft-spoken voice made him turn upon his heels. The pretty babe orchestrated shivers to run down his spine; something that used to always happen to others at his hands— everyone seemed intently intrigued by him and his intelligence, arrogance, and looks— but it seemed the tables had turned. Sometimes, he practically felt immortal, for his dark eyes, his lustful smirks, and his intellect made her out to be the perfect villain— but at moments like these, he doubted his own adequacy and, most importantly, he doubted Lourdes' innocence.

Somehow, her voice was filled with poison— his beauty reminded him of rage, of venom, and sometimes, he imagined her as a very violent person amidst those four walls; two sides of the same coin, not glue but poetical pain held her together so well you wouldn't even notice she was broken if you did not look twice. Two sides of the damn same coin, if Kyle would let a girl pretty like she was hurt him, he was sure it'd still feel like a kiss.

Before he knew it, Lourdes had gotten on her knees— not for the reason he urged very badly that she was, but still: on those pretty little knees. She looked up at him from under her thick eyelashes whilst her dainty fingers were occupied with tying the shoelaces to his expensive pair of shoes, and her lips parted, as though wishing to speak, but then enclosed, something Kyle wasn't too content with.

"Speak, woman," he hummed, and she gaped up at him with mischievous eyes and a wide grin painted on her lips.

"Why do you always wear that expression on your face?" Lourdes required, focusing tightly on the shoes before her— her teeth biting down on her bottom lip, eyes narrowed, and Kyle found it hard to focus, but he chuckled.

"What expression?"

"Like you hate everyone and everything you encounter," Lourdes added, a delicate smile on her plump lips. Kyle shrugged.

"Maybe I do hate everyone and everything I encounter in this shitty town, you know," he laughed, though he weren't even stating any fallacies; once he was old enough, he'd flee to Italy, to meet his grandparents, and live with them, on spaghetti, knowledge, and sex. He would study criminology and stay as far away from his family—besides his sister, he could not bare missing her for much longer than a day— as were possible.

"I understand," Lo agreed, much to his own surprise— he wondered what her papa would say if he heard his daughter badmouth the town he loved so dearly. Every time he spoke about her, rather than to her, for that was how truly intimidating she was, he was startled at how intently she defied hearsay. There was much to her he was unaware of: she liked disco music, like him, and her favorite food was tagliatelle, too, even if he supposed she only had salads under the strict eye of her mother.

Of course, she still was the dutiful daughter, but not in the fashion he ought her to be. Kyle thought so avidly that he knew her, that he knew girls like her. But, God, poor Kyle Garçia didn't know hell until he's messed with an angry, teenage, beauty queen. He didn't know that Lo was truly as troubled as she was divine, unable to decipher where precisely the thin red line between good and bad is.

Lourdes got up from where she was seated and threw her hair up in a loose updo as he watched her. "My friends and I are going to the movies next week, Lourdes, and I was just wondering— wouldn't ya' like to come? You can bring a few of your friends if you want to, it's not a date," Lie. "Just something between friends; what do you say?"

Supposing Kyle would not take no for an answer, Lourdes' reply was the contrary; and Kyle thought of the beginning of the long awaited dream he was to face. Or was it the beginning of a nightmare?

DEFLOWER.                             authors note

hi! hi! a new chapter! eat, my children! psa: wanted to tell y'all that allistair may be a bit infatuated with lo but a snarky comment and pretty girls don't startle him so easily,, he's a bad boy, yes he is 🌺😘  and at least kyle gets shit done smh allistair and tommy need to step up there game /: anyway lol thank you for reading! leave feedback if you want to! and also: what do y'all think about the new cover?

(ps: i have an idea for a new story, it's still a rough draft but it's about a girl who goes to a very notorious boarding school and begins a very odd relationship with her arts teacher that borders obsession. would y'all be interested in reading it? probably not but i'd rather just ask!)