Stain (Stain #1)(12)

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“This is it, Maddox. After today you don’t get any more chances.” She turned and said as we came out of the court house. The expression on her face was supposed to be serious. But she couldn’t really pull it off when she looked like a twelve-year-old year rather than the thirty-three-year-old she was supposed to be. “I had to call in a lot of favors to get Judge Sims to go easy on you."

I scoffed, raking a hand through my hair in agitation. “You call a thousand hours of community service and anger management classes getting off easy?”

“Yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth that looked flawlessly white against her chocolate complexion. “If it’d been another judge, he would’ve thrown the book at you.”

“Well good thing we had your buddy here to save my ass from the pen. I’m curious as to the sort of favors you had to call in though. Maybe you’re letting good ole Judge Sims get in a few good billable hours?”

“You’re such a f*cking little ingrate. Alan and I have tried to do the best we can for you, but I guess there’s no helping someone who doesn’t want it. I don’t know how you and Noah can be related, let alone be twins. You’re lucky he cares about you so much, otherwise...”

“Save it. I don’t need the goddamn lecture. But thanks for bailing my ass out, you’ve been a real doll.”

“You better show up for that outpatient group therapy, Maddox. You miss one and you end up in prison. And I won’t be there to represent you.”

She was saying all this to my back as I walked away. “Say hello to Carle for me.”

“Stay the hell away from my daughter!” The smirk on my face grew a little wider as I heard her curse the hell out of me.





Chapter 5


Maddox


As expected, Dro was pissed about the loss of his money and drugs. But I quickly figured out a way to repay him every last penny of the three grand the cops confiscated. Seeing as I learned to f*ck in front of cameras from a very young age, I figured why not capitalize on what Daddy Dearest taught me. A few months into eighteen, I bought a domain name and Two-4-One was born. Two snatches. One dick. I didn’t date girls. I f*cked them in front of a camera in pairs. After that, I wanted nothing to do with them.

I’m not the flowers and candy type of guy. I don’t take girls out on dates with the hopes of getting a chaste goodnight kiss at the end of the night. Girls—women, are a means to an end. Always have been. I get off. They get off. That’s the scope of my generosity. *, money, drugs, and Noah. Not particularly in that order but that’s what it’s come down to for me. I’m as shallow as they come. Some girls think I’m emotionally stunted. So they go out of their way to try and ‘fix’ me, try to make me dateable. The boyfriend that’ll give a f*ck about the tedious shit in their lives. But that’s their problem, not mine. My main concerns are how far they’ll allow me to push their sexual limits and how good they looked on camera sprayed with my cum. Two-4-One was about the ‘Sluts of Brigham High.’

I know, I know. One would probably be thinking right about now that I’m a piece of shit. Well shame on them for actually thinking I give a f*ck about their opinion. I’ve embraced each and every one of my faults. Besides, if it helps them sleep better at night, the girls are all consenting adults and all over the age of eighteen. The ones I f*cked were desperate for a little camera time and were all as horny as I was. Case in point, Bria Daniels and Grace Logan. I wasn’t a one-girl sort of guy. It didn’t take much to convince them to participate in my little movies. Of course, there was the money, but Bria and Grace had been on my dick since the better part of our sophomore year. Last night, I finally gave them the opportunity to ride it together. They both weren’t much to look at, but the fact they had nice bodies made f*cking them tolerable.

It’s now three A.M. “Maddox,” I hear Grace call. She’s lounging across my bed, her left arm propping her head up as she looks at me with gleaming brown eyes. She’s a genuine redhead. None of that god-awful rainbow-bright shit that comes in a bottle and makes it look like a girl’s done a stint in a f*cking B-rated horror movie. The carpet matches the drapes. Not typically a redhead sort of guy, but like I said, she’s easy *. Her hair is mussed, tumbles around her face in that disheveled way that makes it look like she just had the best lay of her life. And seeing as she was a virgin, I’m thinking I was. Not bragging here, but I’m f*cking confident in f*cking. I know my shit. I know * and I know how to f*ck. Grace is another notch. Bria I’ve had before. Two more flags, among dozens of others, I’ve stake in the glorious South Seas. She’s still flush in the face, red cheeks, kiss-bruised mouth, and the faintest hint of my handprint around her pale throat. Not my idea. Completely hers. That surprised me. The virgin is into erotic asphyxiation. I’m telling you, it’s always the quiet ones. Shy and sweet but freaks in bed. I wasn’t complaining.

“Max.” There’s a breathy quality to her voice now that I’m guessing is supposed to sound sexy. It’s not. It’s f*cking irritating. In fact, the moon-eyed way she’s looking at me now is making me nauseated. The sheets rustle around her as she comes to a sitting position. There’s a smile on her mouth. “Come back to bed.” She pats the bed invitingly.