𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 (𝟏𝟖+)

0. BILLBOARDS

Be successful. Be fit. Be outgoing.

Be anything but yourself.

Billboards are societies way of constantly telling you to go and get bent. I blow out a smoke-filled breath as I stare at the endless sea of suggestive advertisements on either side of the highway. You'd think I'd already had enough of this manipulative bullshit growing up. I ash my cigarette out the car window as I continue to sit in this city traffic with irritating reminders of my shitty past on either side of the road.

Be smarter. Be nicer. Be perfect.

Be anything but yourself.

Essentially, everything you are is not and never will be good enough. It's a lesson that was taught to me, taught? I laugh to myself. More like repetitively drilled into my skull at a very young age. Throw better, Malyssa. Have better aim, Malyssa. Do better. Be better. You're not good enough.

Once I got older, grew tits and an ass, I was just seen as a play thing. A play thing that could make more money. Be sexy, Malyssa. Sell yourself, Malyssa. My body is a reminder that sex sells. I've always been ogled and flirted with by men and women alike. I will say it didn't, and it still doesn't, matter to me because I see people like play things too. People are just a means to an end of my sexual frustration.

Speaking of sexual frustration...

I grab my phone out of the cup holder and begin scrolling through it. Who do I want plowing into me later this evening? Evan? Marcus? Denver? One perk of not being committed is I have several options. I hover over the last name with a smirk. Denver. There was never anyone quite as sadistic and playful as Denver. He can deliver a deliciously hard fuck then make you laugh at the end of it all. The man is truly a mood booster.

I had met all the man that is Denver at the gym I box at. He is all alpha-male from head to toe, stereotypical really. He's a big, buff tattooed bad boy with an arrogant demeanor that can rival my own. Honestly, he comes off as a complete asshole which is much like myself. He is also quite fucked in the head, which is also just like me. A broken asshole who fucks good, he's truly right up the Malyssa alley.

I remember watching him box an opponent. Just the thought of the memory makes me clench my thighs. Denver had a very angry, raging ball of fire inside of him. The meticulous concentration he used while delivering each and every single malicious blow to his opponent had made me salivate. He made the twisted she-devil inside of me rear her insane little head. I saw myself inside of him. And if there were ever two things I know how to do spectacularly it's fuck and fuck people up.

I once had a therapist tell me I'm a sadomasochist. I'm a switch as the BDSM community would care to refer to me. Although my past experience has kind of thrown a giant don't go there zone into that particular brand of kink. Whatever. I'm completely fine. The only problem with being the aforementioned is liking it rougher than I should. When you're someone who bruises rather easily it doesn't look as nice the next day as it had felt the night before.

Every time Denver and I get together I always look like I got into a brawl and ended up fucking afterward. Which, come to think of it, is essentially what happens. My body is always littered with hickies, bruises, handprints, but I love every fucking minute of it. He makes the bad thoughts go away, even if it's just for a night. Denver had a very particular way of making me forget.

Spank me. Choke me. Fuck me so hard I forget my name. Let me do the same to you. That was the way it always was with him.

Side note: Some people spend the majority of their life being verbally and physically abused. Interestingly enough, sometimes those same people thoroughly enjoy others doing the same to them in the bedroom. Also, sometimes we enjoy being the ones delivering said deviant abuse.

I click on Denver's name and only have to wait a few seconds before he picks up the phone. "Hey there, beautiful."

I roll my eyes at the endearment, "don't pretend to be nice, Den." We both know he's not.

"Only one guess as to why you're calling me then." I can practically see the egotistical look plastered all over his face. "You want to meet up? You want to fu-"

"See, there's nothing to guess about," I said, cutting him off. "What time will you be off?"

"I suppose that's whenever you want me to get off." A smirk plays on my lips as I think about what he's implying. "Where are you?"

"Stuck in a fuckton of inner-city traffic. I'll call you when I get home." I hang up the phone not waiting for him to answer me back.

I look around me, hitting the steering wheel in frustration as I do. I hate city traffic but it's not really optional when one chooses to drive here. I should just get a city pass and take the... I look to the passenger seat where I'd tossed my phone. The thing is vibrating all over the damn place. I reach over and pick it up.

"Jesus, Denver, calm your horny ass down. I told you I'd call you when I'm-"

"Mal!? Malyssa, it's me Marina! Mal, they have me! They took me!" Her voice is hysterically sobbing into the phone. "Mal, they think I'm you! They think I'm..." the line goes dead.

They have her. They took my twin sister.

✭✭✭✭✭
A/N:
This is a spinoff story containing characters from what is currently an ongoing series. It can be read as a standalone novel but there are some spoilers. It takes place sometime during the second book in The Dark & Light Series.