Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 12 (Kylie)

My breathing picks up as I inhale the strong scent of his cologne and the brandy on his breath. The rush of heat beating between my legs, a familiar wanton of sinful lust my body possessed when Vincent was in a close proximity.

On one side of the bridge I hate these unrequited predilections. It haunts me with what I could never have. The other side, that disturbed part of me thrives in the knowledge that I want this man, who is so unattainable.

I'm like a Lioness who wants, needs the chase.

If everyone could have it,

I don't want it and no one can have Vincent Stone because Vincent Stone is a man bound in blood and honor, born with death on his hands and a target on his back.

Vincent Stone is a made man and nobody owned a made man besides God, the mafia and himself.

“Jesus fuck Kylie, do you honestly think they want you here.”

Those words do what his cologne and brandy scented body couldn’t. They finish me.

“What?” I don’t recognize that soft note as it leaves my mouth.

Who is this weak girl?

Who is she, this girl that’s talking? Where am I, Kylie Bray, the vivacious girl from Liston Hills?

Where is she gone? I scream inside my head.

'Stop, you hurting yourself, please just STOP'. Except I can't, there is something wrong with my head. There is something not right inside me.

I am standing in front of this man, who I continue to love even though he has time and time again hurt me.

but they still cut deeper than a puncture to the gut and I

wrong with me?!

do I have these feeling for this man?! I

is going to

funeral. I'm going to tell you ONE time, I. Don’t. Fuck. Little girls! , So stay the fuck away from me Kylie, I don't NEED your brand of fucked up, I already have

flinch at the grit and harshness of his tone and the proximity of his suit covered body. His words, it is too

spill silently as my mind and body cripple on the

he opens his mouth. He fractures me with his harsh intent. His demeaning words that is poetry

that he understands it very well, but just doesn't give a fuck, because I

This is it.

longer love this man. I would learn to move on

when it is obvious he loathes

man and I

at his chest wordlessly. Leaving him as he stumbles back in shock. My

friend isn't lying in that coffin anyway, he's dead and hopefully his ghost is beating

faster as my throat clogs tighter. I will not

me gone, I'm going. And I

words. Not knowing if they are meaningless, not knowing whether

say there is so much a person can take

were serious problems to attend to than getting ripped to shreds

to shit drugs and I

a huge asshole and I know , I so know that

needs a taste

your

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