Chapter Ten
My alarm blasts off at the crack of dawn and my eye lids fly up. Thanks to years of training, I don’t awaken slowly. It’s abrupt, and I’m already cognizant of my surroundings. I exist on very little sleep.
Swinging my legs over the bed, I rub the back of my neck, and yawn. Raine is curled up in the sleeping bag I gave her a few hours ago. Not protesting, she set it up in the corner of the room and crashed immediately. Sniffles and a small, girlish prayer begging for her brother’s safety reached me a little while later. She’d thought me asleep, just as I’d mistakenly believed she was.
Now, however, I dismiss the notion that she cried or prayed. Raine isn’t sentimental or weak. Tears are for babies, pussies, and whiners. Besides, she cried enough tears last night.
I meant it when I said I didn’t want her tears. I can’t deal with one more overly emotional woman. My hands are full with my mother.
Scratching my chest, I get to my feet and squeeze the tip of my hard cock. The thought to take a piss crosses my mind. That’s too easy. Raine’s pussy is too good not to use again, so I head to her. Her hair covers the side of her face visible to me.
“Wake up,” I order. She bolts to a sitting position, like someone yanked her up.
She blinks up at me. Her grogginess makes her vulnerable. I almost soften again, as I did last night in the wake of our fucking. But she wants to turn me into a sap-sucker. She wants me vulnerable.
One reason I refused to allow her to sleep next to me. Somehow, she convinced me to pity her and ease off the cooked meal I wanted. As I’d lead her back to my room with every intention of fucking her again, it dawned on me what she’d managed to weasel from me, so I clipped my chivalry and came back to my senses.
She isn’t going to fucking use me or play me.
Stepping onto the sleeping bag, I move close enough to her mouth to tap my dick against her lips. She doesn’t protest. She opens to me, and I shove my cock past her teeth, warning her, with a look, to not bite me.
I’d never raise my hand to a woman. Even when Dietrech fucked over me, I walked away, crushed and humiliated. I’d always prided myself on tormenting Sloane. To me, he’s the pretty, spoiled motherfucker who did no wrong in our father’s eyes because of who gave birth to him.
Our father ended up detesting my mother, so Jaeger, Steffie, and I were persona non-grata until Sloane’s mother decided her little prince should have a relationship with us. Our father covered up Steffie’s…
No, our father murdered our sister. Not Sloane, as I always believed.
No, fuck. Our father took the rap for Sloane. Like my mother says.
“Kiln, I can’t make you cum if you’re so tense.”
Raine’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“What?” I growl, cranky because I’m trying to work out my family’s bullshit in my head.
“Your dick is in my mouth, but you’re not focused on coming.” Raine’s analysis makes her sound like a blow-job expert. “I have to pee,” she goes on. “Obviously, you do, too. Instead of taking a leak, you’re making me suck you off, so concentrate on my tongue swirling around your fat cockhead and then licking the big vein down to the base of your balls. I’ll bet you didn’t feel me give your sac a tongue massage.”
She’s good with fuck-talk. Her words knock away whatever the fuck I’d been thinking about. Her lashes lower and I grin at her, dropping down next to her and guiding her back.
“Fuck, doll.”
Cock in one hand, I shove her nightgown above her waist with the other. She spreads her legs wide, and I breathe in the scent of her pussy. Seeing her hairy cunt makes me hesitate.
STD and crabs cross my mind. I’ve dodged bullets my entire sexual life. Of course, condom protects from STDs but crabs live in pubic hair.
Fuck, am I itching?
My cock is so precious to me. It’s provided me with hours of entertainment. I’d hate for it to catch something that would make it look like a witch doctor’s hatchet job.
“I swear on my brother’s life I’m clean,” she whispers. Her chin wobbles. “I m-mean on his soul.”
“No tears.” Fuck, I meant my words to sound harsh, not husky. I scowl at her. “But your point is taken.” Though I settle between her legs, I don’t impale her yet. A thought occurs to me. “Where are your pills?”
She glances away. “I go to Planned Parenthood every month for a checkup, too.”
“We settled whether or not you’re clean.”
Once again, she nods. “Are you?”
Her question startles me. Though she has every right to be concerned about her own safety, resentment stirs in my gut. Once again, she’s gotten me to let my guard down. “Do you always ask your johns if their dicks are clean? Or do you think I’m some sucker you can bend to your will?”
Her eyes narrow and she shoves my shoulder. “Get off me,” she yells. “Whatever has you so pissy, don’t take it out on me.”
I get to my feet, fuming when my cock bobs up. It’s straining and angry. Her words worked me up. Now, she’s pushing me away because she didn’t like my statement. Or so she pretends. Hurt feelings supposedly yield expensive presents. In my estimation, she’s committing another female crime.
She stands, too, and the white silk nightgown swirls to her feet. Her toes are unpolished, her ankles slender.
“You told me you’re on the pill. Where are they? When did you last take them? I haven’t seen any packets on you. Condoms or pills.”
“Look, Kiln. I know what I’m doing. I don’t have condoms with me because of everything that’s going on. And, I’ve missed my pills here and there. It doesn’t hurt anything. All I do is douche with vinegar to get the cum out of me and then double up.”
I’m so fucking appalled, I can’t say a goddamn word. “Who the fuck…” My voice trails off. “Let me guess, your brother told you that bullshit?”
Folding her arms, she offers me a slow nod.
If that he was still alive, I’d beat him to a pulp. What kind of brother was he? He put his little sister at risk in so many different ways. No matter how fucked up our family, the one thing Jaeger and I did was protect our sister, aunt, and mother. Sloane, too. I think.
Her eyes are big and earnest. She’s fucking clueless. Georgiana serves as a mentor to disenfranchised girls at a local shelter. It’s fucking shocking when I hear her stories of how naïve these girls are. What they don’t know about sex and health and things I take for granted is a crime against humanity.
Raine is one of those girls. She doesn’t know anything. I wonder if she’s ever owned a computer. A tablet. Any of the electronic devices that I don’t give a second thought about.
Her lips are pink, begging for a kiss. Begging for me.
I turn away from her, determined to resist her. “You’re a fucking idiot,” I growl. “You’re lucky you haven’t gotten knocked up. I can’t believe you’re that ignorant. I thought you were smarter than that. How often do you go without…Ow!”
Something hit the back of my head and then plunked to the floor. I have no hair as protection, so the impact is felt in my fucking balls.
Holding my hand to the injury, I spin around, just in time to dodge a shoe. Another show, I amend when I see the first weapon on the floor next to me.
“I’m not fucking stupid, asshole, or an idiot. I trusted my brother not to steer me wrong.”
“Hence, the idiocy. Obviously, he wasn’t doing it. First of all, you’re a whore. Second, your pussy’s hit and miss. One day, a bullet might be dodged and the next, you may end up with a baby in your belly.”
Anger washes over her face and she searches for another missile.
“Don’t,” I warn her. “Not if you want to stay under this roof.”
“Not even a safe place to live is worth your fucking insults and degradation.”
“As if you’ve never been subjected to either.”
Her nostrils flare. For a fleeting instant, mortification gleams in her e
yes, then she flips me off.
“I’m your boss. Don’t make a habit of forgetting that.”
She salutes me. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“How often do you fuck your customers without dick covers?”
“Random customers never. Chambers when he makes me do it.”
“Chambers? The motherfucker you owe money to?”
“I don’t owe money. Montana does…did.” She rubs her head. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me. I’m not as dumb as some people in this room.”
She stiffens.
“How are you involved with Chambers?” I press. “How did you meet him?”
In a brief explanation, she gives me the story. Of course, I should’ve known it was her brother’s doing. Motherfucker sold her virginity, then kept her on her back, or stealing, or being Chambers’ fuck buddy.
Her brother deserves to be right the fuck where he’s at. In hell.
I turn away from her again, annoyed to no end. “I’m getting dressed. I want food. Have it ready by the time I come in the kitchen.”
I stomp toward my private bathroom.
“M-may I eat, too?”
The question, in a tone I don’t recognize from Raine, stops me cold. Instead of slamming the bathroom door, I face her. She’s standing across the room, ringing her hands, wearing an expression I’ve never seen in her beautiful features.
My heart twists. Despite myself, the ice in my veins melt. Just for a moment. Just for her.
“You can eat anything you’d like, sweetheart,” I say gruffly. “I meant that when I said it last night.”
She stares at me, as if she doesn’t believe me. “You won’t hit me, will you? I-I mean Montana…” Her voice trails off, then she shrugs. “My brother always protected me.”
“Not enough,” I bite out, “if he allowed you to become a fucking slut.”
“Slut’s a relative word. I see myself as a working woman. You see me as a slut because I’m paid, yet what do you call the women who fuck you because you’re you?”
“Sluts.”
Surprise etches her face, then she shakes her head. “Misogynistic motherfucker.”
“Here we go. I give you a small bit of kindness and you run away with it by calling me names.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” she charges. “You hate women.”
“And this evidence is based on?”
“Having no regard for Sloane Mason’s wife,” she starts, ticking off the statement on a finger. “Allowing me to steal her clothes. Ravaging her wardrobe.”
“That’s not proof of anything. Georgiana isn’t my concern. I can do what the fuck I want to her. At least, I’ve never fucked her as Sloane fucked my wife. Ex-wife,” I add bitterly.
Her eyes widen in an otherwise emotionless face.
“I was a good man,” I continue, infused with outrage. “Dietrech ruined me. I’ll never trust another woman again.”
Instead of soothing me or refuting me, the little wench bursts into fits of laughter.
“Shut up!”
My demand increases her chuckles to gut-bursting guffaws. She doubles over.
“Nothing I’ve revealed is funny,” I yell. “This is my life you find so hilarious.”
Wiping her eyes, she straightens up. Her face is pink from the exertion of her humor. At my fucking expense. “I’m not laughing at your life,” she clarifies, unable to fully curtail her giggles. “I’m laughing at your delusional belief that you were ever a good man.”
“I resent that.”
“I give zero fucks if you do.”
She sobers up and straightens to her full height, staring directly at me. There’s a vividness about her eyes, a lifeforce that consumes me.
“Not all rich boys are bad. Most of them aren’t. But you? You’re full of self-importance and self-pity. I can only imagine what you were before your wife cheated on you. Which, by the way, was shitty on her part and quite low on Sloane Mason’s part. I’m surprised you have it in you to work for him. You don’t seem to be the forgiving type.”
“I’m not. That’s why I don’t trust women and hate him. He killed my sister.”
“She was his sister, too, and your father confessed to the crime,” she says, revealing she knows a lot about Sloane’s life. Likely, she is one of his groupies. “Rand Mason wouldn’t have pled guilty to rot away in jail for the rest of his life for your brother if he wasn’t.”
I grit my teeth. “Rand Mason will go to any lengths for Sloane. He was a snotty cumbag when I met him and he’s even worse now.”
“Then save your soul and don’t work for him. Hatred does no one any good, least of all the carrier. It’s poison. An infection.” Mischief twinkles in her eyes. “Like an STD.”
“Something I’m sure you’re well-acquainted with.”
“Not,” she snaps and raises her fist. “But I swear to fuck, I’m going to punch the fuck out of you and then leave if you throw a bogus STD in my face one more time. We’ve established my profession, so accept your label. Douche canoe.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that you’re a whore?”
Her anger deflates and she shrugs. “Should it?” she asks without inflection. “Can I change it? I’m sure you’d say I could. But you don’t know me, so, the one thing you aren’t doing, is bringing me down to your level by trying to make me ashamed of myself. Do I wish things were different? Of course, I do. My brother…never mind. Things aren’t different. This is where I’m at. Until I can do better, I’ve accepted it. Either you do, too, or I’ll walk the fuck away. It’s as simple as that, Kiln.” She sighs. “I really thought we’d worked all this out.”
I rub the back of my neck. Tension bunches the muscles in my shoulders, so taut they are hurting. Now that I have a deflated dick, my bladder feels as if it’s about to burst.
“Frankly, my life isn’t up for discussion any more. I’m not going to apologize to you every few hours for living on the streets. I’m not going to reassure you that you don’t need a HazMat suit to come near my pussy.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
She grins at me. “I’m on the pill. I’m disease-free. I need your help. It’s up to you to believe me and it’s up to you to help me.”
She’s laying it on the line for me. No bullshit. No frills and fanfare. It’s either-or, in my face, leaving me without words.
I nod, turn on my heel, head for the bathroom, and slam the door shut.
Still in Georgie Mason’s pretty nightgown, I rummage through the state-of-the-art refrigerator, gathering eggs, butter, a can of biscuits, bacon, cheese, onions, fresh fruit, and mushrooms.
I haven’t had an omelet in years. Whenever Mom and Riquo went out in the mornings, Montana cooked breakfast for me. Or woke me up to give me cooking lessons. One of my absolute favorite things my brother whipped up…
Pain slashes through me and I stare at a kitchen counter, my arms overflowing with food.
“Montana, you can’t be gone,” I whisper, trembling. The same urge to cry hits me again. “What am I going to do without you? Who will I love?”
Dropping the stuff on the counter, I lean over and cover my face with my hands. Tears warm my fingers. I know I don’t have a lot of time to cry. The moment Kiln closed the bathroom door, about twenty minutes ago, I hightailed it across the house to the kitchen. At any moment, the lug head will appear.
I need to get this bout of grief out, and behind me, before he walks in. If my tears flow too freely, they’ll never stop. They must remain contained, so I can keep a semblance of calm.
“My breakfast isn’t ready yet?”
The growled question rises behind me. He’s close to me. The scent of his soap tantalizes my nostrils. His breath fans my neck, raising goosebumps on my skin. His body heat invades me, traveling right to my nipples and pussy.
I shiver from Kiln’s nearness. My lower lip trembles from my pain.
To cover up how he affects me and mask my hurt over Montana, I turn to Kiln, raise up
on my tiptoes, and attack his mouth, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Sex wasn’t always a weapon, a tool. A means of survival. At one time, I cherished my body. Looked forward to the day a knight-in-shining-armor rescued me from my home life. In turn, I’d help my brother, who sacrificed so much for me.
That never happened, nor will it ever, whether Montana’s miraculously alive or truly dead. There are no knights.
There’s only resilience.
Kiln kisses me with hunger, taking over. I want to wrestle control back. He’s the sexual partner who’s confident enough to give me a measure of power. Unlike forty-five minutes ago, he’s all in, fully focused on me, and tasting my mouth.
His stomach growls and he chuckles against my lips, pulling back after stealing one, final kiss. “I was perilously close to licking your cunt,” he tells me, and fire shoots through my entire body, pooling in my pussy.
He rubs his nose against mine. “I would’ve run my tongue along your slit, spread you open with my fingers and sucked your clit.”
My body flushes and a small noise escapes the back of my throat. “I’ve never had that done to me,” I confess, breathless and lightheaded.
As if he doesn’t believe me, he studies my eyes. His expression closes, even as he kisses me again.
“Stop fucking around with me,” he whispers, running his tongue along the seam of my lips.
“I’m not,” I swear. “I give pleasure. I don’t get it.”
He studies me again, kisses me one last time, then pushes me away. “Cook,” he demands.
Disappointment crashes into me. I really wanted to experience what he offered. “If you change your mind, you know where to find my pussy,” I say lightly.
He starts to smile, then turns it into a scowl. I’ve never seen any man work to be an asshole as much as Kiln.
“Feed me.”
“I’d prefer to fuck you.”
“You don’t want me to bring up who you are, yet you make comments like that.”
“Because it’s the truth,” I argue. “You think I tell all my customers that?”
The jackass nods. “You’re in the customer service industry.”
Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series Page 86
