Heart Broke (Broken Home Book 1) Page 5

  A wave of nausea washes over me and for a second, I think I’m gonna be sick. I swallow hard and am relieved when the feeling subsides. Raucous laughter and screams come from down the hallway and the door flies open. A girl with her shirt in her hand and one breast hanging out her bra falls inside our bathroom and a second later, a guy stumbles in behind her. They both reek of alcohol and they end up on the floor. The dude is groping the girl’s breast with one hand while the other rummages beneath her skirt. Mysty—with a Y—who I know from history class is laughing, but it’s a fake laugh and there are tears in her eyes.

  “Get the fuck off her.” Rick grabs the guy—who I’m pretty sure is on the wrestling team and is built like he could grapple with the hulk—and gets in his face. “Can’t you see she’s drunk?”

  Before the wrestler can reply, Rick has launched him through the door and the guy can’t get enough purchase with his feet on the floor to stay upright. There’s a loud thud and more laughing outside. Rick helps Mysty to her feet and he pulls the shirt over her head, covering her up. “Go home,” he commands and she bursts into tears.

  As Mysty nods and flees the bathroom, Rick grabs my hand and I’m happy to follow him this time because he is right. My life just flashed before my eyes and I know, if Rick hadn’t arrived when he did, then what I just witnessed could have been me.

  Rick picks his way through the people collected on the stairs but his hand never leaves mine and I hold on tight. At the bottom, he pulls me in front of him and his hand moves to the small of my back as he guides me through the crowd. Once outside, the cooler air assaults my senses and a wave of dizziness catches me off guard. I sway a little, catching hold of his arm to steady myself.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” He mutters and his arm grabs me around my waist. “I saw you with beer earlier, what else were you drinking, Franny?”

  He looks concerned, his brows are knitted together and those gorgeous blue eyes are staring at me. I shrug. “Wine while we were getting dressed and then something clear, vodka, I think. Krystal poured me a cup full when we arrived.”

  “A whole cup? Shit. Anything else?”

  My head is swimming and it’s hard to think straight. “I dunno. Some weird stuff in a big glass jar. It was disgusting and burned my throat but Lance said he wouldn’t invite me to his party again if I didn’t drink it down in one.”

  “Moonshine?”

  I look up at the sky, but it’s pretty cloudy. Staring at the starless heavens makes me even dizzier. “I can’t see the moon,” I say and stumble again.

  “No, the drink in the jar, it was moonshine. Fuck, tell me you didn’t drink a full cup of that?”

  I try to coordinate my thumb and forefinger and make like an inch or two and I get another eye roll from him. It makes me giggle because he looks so darn cute when he’s behaving so stern.

  “This way.” He’s leading me down a dark road with no streetlights and I’m teetering on my heels behind him again. My feet are killing me in these stupid shoes and I stop and try to take them off, but it’s not easy because I seem to be standing on a tilt-a-whirl and every time I bend my knee to reach my shoe, I wobble over.

  “Can I help you with that?” He’s looking at me with that smirk on his face—the one that makes his dimple appear. I nod and he kneels in front of me, slides his hand down my calf, and then slips off my shoe. He hands it to me and repeats the gesture with the other.

  “Th-thank you.” For some reason, Rick kneeling at my feet is leaving me breathless.

  Now his hands are on my waist and he is looking down at me. His mouth turns up in a sexy grin and he shakes his head. “What the fuck am I gonna do with you?”

  “Kiss me?” I’m holding a shoe in each hand and I know if he lets go of me, this ground is gonna start rolling and I’ll end up on my butt, but I tip forward a little hoping our mouths will connect. The next thing I know, I’m flying through the air and find myself hanging over his shoulder. His hand is on my ass supporting me and my arms are swinging by the backs of his thighs. “Rick, what the…” But then I notice the view I have from up here.

  Rick’s jeans are pulled tight across his ass and his butt cheeks are round and lush. I can’t resist reaching out and squeezing. He chuckles loudly as I run my hands over his pert buttocks and sigh.

  Minutes later, I am the right way up once again and he holds me against a car with one hand on my breast bone preventing me from falling forward, while he digs in his pocket with the other. I look down and notice the ride I am propped against. It’s a cool Thunderbird and I’m immediately smitten by its sweet, sweet lines. Her paintwork is a little rusty and dull in parts but if she got a shiny new coat, this baby would be beautiful.

  One thing about being the heir to the Spin Motors’ empire is that, since I was knee high, my Daddy educated me about cars. Unlike most girls my age, I know a Cobra from a Corvette and this pretty automobile my backside is pressed against, is just about the sexiest car I’ve seen.

  “You drive a Thunderbird?” I slur.

  “I do.” Rick fastens the seatbelt across my lap and he’s so close I can smell the soap he uses and see down the front of his shirt when he leans across me. My eyes are out on stalks because those smooth pecs are calling my name and they’re demanding to be licked. I don’t know why I do it, but just as he is about to straighten up I stick out my tongue and flick it across my lips.

  “Fuck, not the lip-lick!” He’s staring at me, his face only a couple inches away.

  “Kiss me,” I repeat and close my eyes and pucker up, but he leaves me hanging and when I open my eyes again, Rick has backed away a couple of inches.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

  I frown. “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” I say and drop my shoes into the footwell so I can grab his collar and yank him closer.

  He takes my hands and pries them off his shirt then places them gently in my lap. “Behave,” he says and jogs around to the driver’s side.

  When he starts the engine, it purrs and its low thrum resonates through my body. The vibrations are doing unmentionable things between my legs and I so desperately want Rick to touch me. I slide my hand across his thigh and my fingers brush his junk. Lord it is hot and hard! He grabs my hand and moves it away from his groin, but this time he doesn’t give it back to me, he just holds it there on his knee and I tremble.

  We drive in silence for a few blocks then he clears his throat. “What’s your address, Franny.”

  “Huh?” I’ve been studying our fingers entwined on his long leg and his question takes me by surprise.

  “I need your address to take you home, sweet lips.”

  It’s then I realize I can’t go home. Daddy thinks I’m studying at Krystal’s and I’m supposed to sleep over. “Stop the car.”

  My hand clamps over my mouth as vomit rushes up my throat. The next moment the passenger door is open and Rick’s helping me onto the grass. My guts empty in three heaves but I can’t stop retching and the alcohol coming back up is ten times worse tasting than when it went down.

  I must look a fright. My dress is hitched up far too short and Rick is holding my hair and rubbing my back. “Get rid of it Franny, you’ll feel better.”

  After I’m done, I do feel better, but now I am a little more sober and feel ashamed.

  Rick disappears to the car and returns, handing me a bottle of water. I rinse my mouth and give him a shaky smile. “I-I can’t go home, Daddy will kill me.”

  He seems conflicted. “I have to take you, Franny. You’re ridiculously drunk, they need to watch you, make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m not drunk anymore,” I say and the next minute a dizzy spell has me tipping forward into his arms.

  “You can’t even stand up straight.”

  “I can.” I fling my arms around his neck. “But it’s more fun here in your arms. Why won’t you kiss me, Rick?”

  My mouth is on his jaw line, working my way over to his lips and my hand
s have a mind of their own. They are intent on checking out his junk to see if he is still hard. I have never touched a penis before, never seen one either, but right now all I can think about is how much I want to hold his pecker in my hand. As I find what I’m looking for a hiss escapes his mouth.

  His lips find my ear and he is whispering, his voice hoarse and deep. “What the fuck are you doing to me, baby?”

  “I’m feeling your p—” but I stop talking because that word sounds juvenile and I can’t bring myself to use a cruder term. “Junk.” I splutter out.

  He laughs and the sound goes in my ear and vibrates through my whole body. “Perhaps you better stop that.” He grasps my hand but doesn’t pull it away and I get the feeling he doesn’t want me to stop at all.

  “No. I wanna know what it feels like.” I hesitate and lower my voice. “I’ve never touched a guy’s junk before.” My brain now thinks this is a brilliant idea and I fumble around for Rick’s zipper.

  “Franny.” His voice is firm but from what I can feel through his pants, he wants me to touch him, too.

  “It’s okay.” I have his button undone, but the zipper is stuck. “I wanna have sex with you.”

  Now my wrist is clamped in his and it’s behind my back. His body is flush against mine and that hard length is pressed against my privates. God, it feels good. He nibbles my lip and as I open my mouth his tongue pushes inside, plundering my mouth and making my temperature soar. Then a moment later his mouth is gone and my lips feel bruised.

  I’m nervous now and I look around. “Um, where will we do it? In the back of your car?” He shakes his head but I can’t stop rambling. “It’s my first time. Krystal says the first-time hurts, is that right? I don’t want it to hurt. Will you be gentle?” He is still staring at me, his hand rubbing against his chin. “Um, will we need a thingy? Um, to put over your you-know-what? Because I don’t want you to get me pregnant and even though Krystal says you can’t get pregnant from your first time, I know this girl who did and she—”

  “We are not having sex, Franny.”

  I’m stunned into silence and he grabs my hand, tugging me back to the car. Against my protests, he straps me in again and a few seconds later, he starts the engine. “Address.”

  Ticked off, I mumble the street address and he drives off. We are traveling fast and the cool breeze is sobering me up even faster. By the time Rick pulls into my driveway I am mortified by my behavior. “S-sorry about back there. I don’t usually do stuff like that, I think it’s the alcohol.”

  He kills the engine and reaches out to me. Cupping the back of my head, he pulls me towards him. “You reckon?”

  This time when we kiss it is long and slow and it feels like he is claiming me. Panting, we pull apart and he shakes his head again.

  “Th-thank you for being a gentleman and refusing me.”

  He winks and lets out a throaty chuckle. “Don’t thank me, sweet lips, because the next time you beg me, I have no intention of being a gentleman and you better be sober so you can enjoy it.”

  I’m flabbergasted but there is no time to reply because the security lights in my yard go on and Daddy is barreling down the driveway.

  “What the fuck are you doing to my daughter?” Daddy is spitting and cussing as he yanks me out the car. I’m not ready for him and stumble as I try to find my feet.

  He tugs my arm hard and pain lances through my shoulder. “Ow, Daddy, you’re hurting me,” I cry.

  “Hurting you? You’ll know what pain is as soon as I get you inside, young lady. Look at you, you’re off your face, dressed like a slut, and turning up at my house with a fucking dirty Prank…”

  Daddy drags me away from the car and I’m balling like I’m five years old. I know he’s gonna thrash me and take away my car and my phone but all I can think of is, he called Rick a dirty Prank. The gorgeous man who brought me home may be a Prank, but he is far from dirty. I want to tell Daddy how Rick saved me—how he stopped me from snorting coke, how he held my hair when I puked on the side of the road. I wanna tell my daddy Rick is good and kind and respectful. That he refused to have sex with me when I was ready to climb into the back of his car and do it then and there. I want Daddy to know all of this, but I can’t tell him any of it because Rick is now at my side, yelling, “Take your fucking hands off her!”

  Chapter 7

  RICK

  What the fuck does he think he’s doing? He’s hurting her!

  I try to come between them. The tips of the man’s fingers are white—he’s gripping Franny’s wrist so tight. I grab them both—Franny and her father—each by their joined arms in an attempt to pull them apart, to separate them, when I feel a stiff hard knock at my mouth. My head flies back uncontrollably and I’m suddenly on my ass.

  The rich Prick just hit me!

  I’m in shock as to what just happened but reality sets in when Franny’s father hovers over me, still holding his daughter painfully by the arm. “Get lost you little Prank. Go back to the gutters where you came from. Look at what you did to my little girl.”

  The familiar taste of salty warm wet copper pools at the tip of my tongue. A throb beats at my mouth, pumping my lower lip to swell and more liquid copper—blood—leaks towards the back of my throat.

  I spit and get to my feet.

  Franny’s eyes widen in horror as I charge at her father. “You mother-fucking Prick!”

  “Rick, no!” Franny cries, coming between us and I nearly knock her over as I take down her dad, pushing him to the ground, burying his head into the lawn with my open palm, and getting on top of him.

  I raise my fist to take a punch at his face, but my arm won’t move. I can’t bring my fist down because Franny’s hooked her hands at my elbow. “Fuck, Franny, let go!”

  “No, stop!” she screams. “Stop, please.” She’s fucking crying as she hugs me then pushes me, of all things. It’s as if she still can’t make up her mind whether she’s into me or not.

  Her father coughs and mutters, “I told you these Pranks were no good, Francesca. Go in the house. Tell your mother to call the police.”

  Franny’s face is upside down. She’s wrecked as she falls to her knees, “Rick, I need you to go. Please,” she sobs. Her shoulders shudder as she cries and begs, “Please, Rick. Just go.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” chortles Franny’s father looking me square in the eyes. “Take a swing, kid. We both know you want to. Show her the worthless Prank you are. Go ahead. Hit me.”

  I can’t believe this rich Prick—tempting me to kick his ass, which I totally could. I shove him before I get up.

  I’m a Prank, but I’m not worthless. I’m proud to be from the wrong side of town. I’d rather be a Prank than a Prick. Pricks care nothing about their family. Obviously! Just look at Franny—crying out of fear because her father won’t listen.

  Marching backward, I take one last look at Franny, the girl I had seconds ago tangled in my arms. Then turn to face my Thunderbird and skip towards my car, jumping, and swinging my legs over the driver’s door. Sliding my ass down smoothly to land on the torn black and white upholstered seat, I start up the engine and reverse. I’m tempted to take one more look at the girl I probably should have never batted an eye for. So, I don’t look. If I do, my heart will bleed out. Instead, I just drive. I’ve already had my fill of blood in my mouth for one evening.

  Pulling between our broken chain-link fence and into the driveway, I hear Zane singing. His baritone voice is louder than the television he’s got turned up to maximum volume, which would be alright with me and the neighbors if he wasn’t watching reruns of Backstreet Boys on the big screen via YouTube. Is he ever going to grow out of this wanna-be-a-pop-sensation phase?

  I keep my chin down, hanging my head low as I enter, but there’s no avoiding being seen.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Zane stands up, turning off the TV with the remote, silencing the room, and walking over.

  “Nothing,” I try to avoid him but he gets
in my way, grabbing my jaw with one hand and flicking his hair back with the other so he can get a good look at my fat lip.

  “Who the fuck did this?” His eyes narrow as his brow knits. Zane is a bit taller than me though he’s not as big as Teddy in bulk.

  I push him, pulling his grip off my face. “Nobody.”

  “Nothing? Nobody?” he repeats. “Bullshit! Tell me where the fuck we need to go. We’re going to kick their fucking asses. Right now. Hey, Teddy!”

  Ah, shit. Teddy’s home?

  Teddy comes out from beyond the kitchen and marches right to me, focusing his gaze on my mouth painted with dried blood. “What the hell? Did those Pricks do that to you? How did this happen? I’m going to kill ‘em.” Teddy grabs my face with both hands to examine my lip. “Fuck, when your Ma sees you like this—”

  “My Ma?” I feel like Teddy is choking me, so I elbow him in the chest and manage to pry his hands from me. “Why the fuck are you so worried about my Ma, lately?”

  Teddy pushes with a hard tap to my chest. “Don’t change the subject. Did those Pricks do this or not? Did they give you the money?”

  “Yeah,” I got the money. What does Teddy think I am? Worthless? That Prick just called me worthless, but Teddy should know better.

  My hand digs into the front pocket of my jeans to clamp down on a wad of rolled cash. I pull it out and throw it.

  “Damn, Rick,” blurts Zane. “Why are you so pissed off at us? We didn’t fuck with your face.”

  Zane walks around to collect the bills sprawled across the ratty living room as Teddy eyeballs me. “What happened?” he sighs as if he’s disappointed.

  My eyes get wet. I fucking hate it. There’s this weird burn in my gut blowing steam up my throat that is making my head hot and my eyes watery. I wipe my eyes with my palm.

  I can’t fucking believe it! I’m about to fucking cry and I don’t know why.

  Because I might be a disappointment to a guy I feel a need to answer to even though he’s not my real brother?