“That’s not fair. I’m sorry for how everything went down. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”
“Well, it did.”
“You’re not innocent in all this. I didn’t force you to fuck me.”
“You tempted me. I told you to stay away, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m not a fucking saint. How long did you expect me to resist your invitation? You might as well have had ‘fuck me’ tattooed on your forehead.”
“If you believe I’m a cheater, then let me go. We’re toxic to each other.” Her voice wavers. “I can’t take this shit anymore.”
“I can’t let you go!” I punch the steering wheel.
I’m going to make it so there’s no mistaking whom she belongs to.
Art follows behind me with his hands on my hips as I walk up the stairs. The fact that he took me to his penthouse speaks volumes. We’re back where we started almost three months ago. He guides me into his bedroom.
“Take off your clothes,” he whispers in my ear.
“Are you going to beat me?”
He grasps my chin and turns my head until his mesmerizing green eyes collide with mine. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
I raise my hand, rubbing my fingertips across his face because I can’t help myself. He’s a beautiful man.
“Eu te amo,” I say.
He closes his eyes as tremors overtake his body. No one will ever experience what we have—love, hate, and unrestrained passion tied together with a bloody red bow. We’re constantly on edge. One wrong move and we’ll plummet to our deaths, but what a sweet death it’ll be.
I wince when he seizes my wrist in a bruising hold.
“Witch,” he accuses.
“If I’m a witch, you’re a sorcerer.”
“If that were true, I’d be able to break the spell you have over me.”
“There’s no spell. You just don’t want to admit the truth.”
“Which is?”
“You don’t know whether to love or hate me.”
“I’m perfectly capable of doing both. I’m a multi-tasker. Now take off your fucking clothes.”
Art stands so close to me, the rapid rise and fall of his chest brushes against my back as I undress. His warm breath caresses my neck like the touch of a gentle lover and sends shivers coursing through me. A low moan full of need escapes my mouth when he takes hold of my breasts and circles his thumbs over my nipples until they form hard peaks. His tongue languidly laps at my neck as his hands move down my quivering belly. He plucks and pinches my engorged clit while his other hand descends farther to penetrate my clenching pussy with long fingers. My trembling legs give out. The only thing that stops me from dropping to the floor is Art’s hands between my legs. My orgasm is just in reach.
“Eu nunca vou ter o suficiente de você,” he says in a tormented voice.
“Nosso destino foi selado no dia em que nos conhecemos. Um não pode ficar sem o outro,” I murmur.
He abruptly steps away, causing me to fall to the floor. “You don’t get to come.”
“Fucking asshole.” I glare up at him.
“Someone’s grumpy.”
“Bite me,” I say.
“Get your ass up and go lie in the middle of the bed on your stomach.”
I struggle to walk to the bed on shaky legs.
“Hurry the fuck up. I don’t have all day.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” I snap.
He kicks me in the ass, sending me crashing onto the bed. I throw a pillow at him, but he easily catches it and hits me in the face. Pain explodes in my nose. The soft cotton turns into a dangerous weapon when wielded with force.
“Ouch!”
“Well you started it.” He raises the pillow, preparing to strike again.
“Wait!” I say, wrapping my arms around my head.
“I suggest you do what you were told.”
“Okay.” I hurriedly crawl to the center of the bed.
Once I’m in place, Art cuffs my wrist and ankles. “I’ll be back,” he says.
“What? Where are you going?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“You can’t leave me like this.”
“I’ll be back soon and I’ll have a special surprise for you.”
“Don’t leave me like this! Uncuff me!”
“No can do.”
“I’m going to bite your dick off.”
He roars with laughter. “Damn, babe, that’s violent. I’m rubbing off on you.”
“This isn’t funny!”
He blows me a kiss before crossing through the doorway. I swear to God I’m going to kill him.
“How’s sleeping beauty?”
My eyes open to a smiling Art peering down at me.
Darkness greets me beyond the window. The sun was still out when I fell asleep.
“I can’t believe you left me like this for hours!” I shout, seething inside.
“Calm down. You aren’t dead.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“My mom must be worried sick.”
“I sent her a text.”
“She probably thinks you murdered me.”
“I sent it from your phone.”
“You know my passcode?”
“Yep.”
“You can’t just pry your way into every aspect of my life.”
“Sure I can.”
God, he’s so infuriating.
“I have to pee.”
“Too bad.”
“My bladder is about to burst.”
“I’ll get a cup.”
“Excuse me? I’m not peeing in a cup!”
“Then pee on yourself.”
My blood is boiling. “Fine.”
He leaves the bedroom and actually returns with a damn cup. I can’t believe him!
“Okay, are you ready?”
I have just enough slack to lift up a little. Once I’m done relieving myself, he puts the cup on the nightstand.
“Can you at least wipe me?”
“It’ll air dry.” He swats me on the ass.
He better sleep with one eye open after this.
“Are you ready for your surprise?” he asks ominously.
A sense of foreboding washes over me at his tone. Whatever he has planned can’t be good.
“During my destructive years, after you ripped my heart out and stomped all over it, I became a tattoo artist for a while.” He picks a bag up from the floor.
“What’s in there?”
“Everything I need to give you a tattoo.”
“Art, you’re taking this too fucking far!”
“Trust me, this is nothing compared to what I could do.” He pulls items from the bag and positions them across the bed in a straight line.
I thrash against the handcuffs, attempting to get my hands free.
“I’m about to start, so you better stop moving. It’ll be your fault if I fuck up.”
He puts on a pair of black gloves, then sprays antiseptic on my left butt cheek before wiping the area with a napkin. Next, he draws something on my ass with a sharpie. From this angle I can’t tell what it is. I go perfectly still when I hear the buzzing sound. I don’t want to end up with a black blob on my ass.
I cringe in pain as he moves the tattoo gun along my skin. “That hurts.”
“Stop being a baby. This isn’t your first tattoo.”
“Well, it’s more painful this time.”
“I’m almost done.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
After twenty minutes, I’m on the verge of hysterics wondering what new ink Art is giving me.
“There. It’s even better than I imagined.” He puts all the materials back in the bag and takes off the gloves before snapping a picture of the tattoo with his cell phone and showing it to me.
Property of Arthur King
“I can’t believe you tattooed your name on my ass!” I yell.
“Well
it’s the truth. It is my ass.” He chuckles, uncuffing me from the bed posts.
Once free, I attack him. We roll across the bed and fall onto the floor.
He quickly subdues me. “When are you going to learn that fighting me gets you fucked?”
He grabs me by the throat and jerks me to my feet before throwing me into the window and pinning my body against the glass. “Place your hands flat on the fucking window and keep them there.”
“Fuck you!” I scream, refusing to follow his demand.
He slams my face into the glass. Pain erupts in my head as blood seeps from my mouth.
“Now be a good girl and do what you’re told.”
I comply, realizing he’ll always have the upper hand between us.
“I love seeing you bleed.” He licks my cheek. “Be defiant again so I can make you bleed some more.” He kicks my feet apart.
The sound of his zipper fills my ears.
“What are you thinking right now as my dick opens you up?” he asks, slowly penetrating me.
The exquisiteness of this moment will be burned in my memories forever.
“Tell me,” he murmurs.
“I’m afraid.”
“Why?”
“You take a little piece of my soul every time you enter my body. Eventually you’ll leave me soulless. But what really scares me is that I prefer to be soulless over being without you.”
“Welcome to my world.” He fully impales me but stays still.
“Please, fuck me,” I say in desperation.
“Not yet.”
His hardness throbs inside me.
“You feel that?” He covers my hands with his.
I nod, moaning.
“Don’t think for one second you can recreate what we have with another man. It can never be done,” he says as he begins pumping his hips.
The rolling waves of the ocean model my current emotions. No word in existence is capable of describing the intensity he brings to life inside me. This man could wreck me, hurt me, leave me for dead, but I’ll always come back to him because I’d rather stay in hell with the devil than live the rest of my life in paradise. How fucked up is that?
He grinds and rotates his hips wildly as he kisses my neck. Energy builds in my core until I’m completely consumed. My pussy spasms down on his dick as I reach orgasm.
“Você me intoxica,” he groans, overfilling my cunt with his semen.
Another piece of my soul is gone, but I don’t give a fuck. Art drops to his knees and rests his head against my lower back.
“Why am I so weak when it comes to you?” he asks in a confused voice, more to himself than to me.
Some people are meant to pass through your life while others are destined to stay. Art and I, we’re fated to be together. There’s nothing I could’ve done to avoid him. This is meant to be. I am his property.
My cell phone rings as I pull into a parking space at work. By the time Art took me home last night, my car had already been delivered.
“Hello.”
“The video of Art punching that guy is all over the internet!” Anneli exclaims.
“Oh no.”
“It’s going to be on the gossip news show What’s Poppin? tonight.
“This is a nightmare.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“Art saw us walking together.”
“That’s it?”
“And we were talking.”
“So what? Is that why the fight started?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you not allowed to talk to other men?”
“It’s a stipulation of our agreement.”
“That’s absurd!”
“Try telling Art that.”
“Are you at work?”
“I just got here. I’m totally going to get fired.”
“Maybe not. You can’t control the actions of another person.”
“But it never would’ve happened if it wasn’t for me.”
“Denise is an understanding person. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll talk to you later. It’s time to face the music.”
“It’ll be okay.”
I end the call, hoping Anneli is right.
My eyes roam over my surroundings. “Is it me or does this parking lot seem more crowded than it usually is?” I ask myself.
I take a deep breath before getting out of the car. My colleagues give me the side-eye, and students whisper as I walk towards the school. I’m transported back to Central High again—a memory that instantly increases my trepidation. The principal is waiting by my classroom.
“Good morning, Principal Joyner.”
“Ms. Belo,” she greets. “I would like to have a word with you in my office.”
“Absolutely.” Here we go.
I enter the office behind her and take a seat in front of the desk.
“I’m sure you’re not clueless as to what the topic of discussion will be.”
I clear my throat. “I truly apologize for the incident that occurred yesterday. It’s inexcusable. I’m devastated it was witnessed by students.”
“Are you aware Mr. Skinner is currently in the hospital with a concussion? He also received several stitches to close a gash at the back of his head.”
“No.”
I went straight to sleep when I got in last night without a thought to calling Jerry to check on him. Guilt and my sore ass make it impossible to sit still.
“Right now, we’re not supervisor and employee. I’m a woman speaking candidly to another.”
“All right.”
“You’re a fool for choosing him over Adrian.”
If this bitch wants to take it there, that’s fine by me. “My personal life is none of your fucking business.”
“It became my business when you brought your bullshit on school grounds.”
“I assure you there won’t be a recurrence.”
“You’re one of those stupid women who prefer a bad boy over a good man. Your employment is terminated effective immediately.”
“Then this discussion is over. I’ll leave right away.”
After Adrian and I stopped dating, her attitude shifted towards me, but it didn’t bother me because she remained professional. Well, I guess that’s over now. Goddamn it. How will I explain this to my mom?
Art and I are destined to destroy each other’s lives.
The music blasting through my ears as I complete overhead presses is interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone. I sit up, pulling the hand towel from around my neck to wipe my sweaty face, and pick my phone up from the floor. Josh’s name flashes across the screen. Instead of declining the call, which is my first instinct, I answer knowing exactly why he’s calling.
“Yeah.”
“Have you watched TV this morning?”
“I have not.”
“You’re in a heap of trouble.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.”
“The video clip of you punching that guy is showing everywhere. By now, he knows who you are. A lawsuit is coming for sure.”
“I don’t give a damn.”
“I knew Cin would cause trouble.”
“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”
“You’ve stayed out of the public’s eye since being awarded custody of Mason, but you’re back to making the same mistakes because of her.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“She makes you batshit crazy!”
“I need her.”
“She brings out the worst in you!”
“I don’t care!” I shout.
“She makes you so damn weak.”
“I know that, goddamn it!”
“Why can’t you just leave her the fuck alone? Jesus, Art. Mason should come first, not her.”
“Of course he comes first. But Cin is in my life for good. Accept it.”
“It seems to me that your dick comes first.”
“I’m done with this topic.”
“Have you
forgiven her?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“But still you refuse to let her go.”
I look at my cell phone when I hear a beep. Great, it’s the old man. “I have to go.” I click over. “What do you want?”
“Arthur, are you trying to ruin your life again?”
“I want you and Josh off my case. She’s mine, so get used to it.”
“I will not have you making a mockery of this family!”
“Oh, you don’t need me for that. You accomplish it all on your own.”
“You ingrate—”
“Focus on your own life old man.” I end the call.
He immediately calls back, but I press decline.
The ringing starts again. He’s a persistent bastard, and he’s sorely testing my fucking patience. “Give it a fucking rest!” I answer, shouting into the phone.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I should be the one pissed! I just got terminated because of you!” Cin yells.
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“I want an advance on the money you owe me.”
“No.”
“No? How is my family supposed to survive?”
“I’ll pay all your bills and give you money when you need it.”
“Do you know how difficult it’ll be to find another teaching position a quarter into the school year?
“It’s not a big deal. I’ll take care of you.”
“You just don’t get it. You can’t take care of me forever. Sitting home and doing nothing all day isn’t for me. I love teaching. The video floating around isn’t going to help in my job search.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you followed the rules.”
“No, it happened because you’re a crazed Neanderthal.”
“I’ll give you a job.”
“What?”
“You can be my assistant.”
“Don’t you already have one?”
“I’ll fire her.”
“I’m not going to be the reason some poor woman loses her job.”
“I’ll give her a decent severance package, so she’ll be good for a few years.”
“I don’t want to work for you. I want to teach.”
“Trust me, you’ll be teaching again by next school year. In the meantime, work for me.”
“Working for you would be a conflict of interest.”
“Stop making this more complicated than it has to be.”
“Do you agree to keep things strictly professional at work?”
When Art Falls Page 10
