Casual Encounter Vol. 4

by M. S. Parker

  When the door slammed behind her, my stomach lurched. She was gone.

  I'd never fought with anyone before. Not like this. Whenever women got too attached, I cut them free and whatever protests they made, I ignored. I didn't care what they thought of me. But, Aubree's final words, the expression on her face when she'd called me a bastard... I'd never been cut so deeply. Not that she wasn’t right, I knew.

  I was a bastard. A bastard for breaking my own rules, a bastard for thinking I deserved anything more. A bastard for setting my sights too high.

  That's what I got for letting someone close, I told myself as I stomped to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I had known better than to fall for her, but after nine years, she'd been the only one who'd tempted me to break my own rule. I stepped under the water without waiting for it to warm. I shivered as the cold hit my overheated skin. I hated cold showers, but at the moment, it was the wake-up call I needed.

  I closed my eyes as the temperature started to rise but all I could see was her face. The hurt in those beautiful violet eyes.

  “Fuck!” I yelled and slapped my hands against the wall. I rested my forehead between my hands. What the hell had I done?

  Actually, I knew the answer.

  I sabotaged myself on purpose. As I'd told Aubree before, I always knew what to say. Sure, I had a hard time telling her how I felt, and it had been difficult to share details of my past, but only an idiot wouldn't have known my little announcement wouldn't be taken well. And I wasn't an idiot. I'd known before I spoke that if I told Aubree I was planning on continuing my work as an escort, it'd drive her away.

  Pain laced through my chest and I went to my knees. I never should have told her how I felt. Never should have acted on it. I should have just told her she was ready and cut her loose. Free to pursue relationships with whoever she wanted. I buried my hands in my hair as water poured down my face. The thought of her being with anyone else made me sick to my stomach.

  But it had needed to be done. I'd gotten caught up in the moment, in the idea that she and I could have a life together. The moment we were done, however, real life had come crashing back down and I'd known it wouldn't work. Not because I didn't feel anything for her, but because I felt too much. She deserved better than me.

  “...piece of ass... all you're good for...”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, as if it would keep me from hearing the thoughts from my past. I was in enough pain. I didn't need those memories coming forward, reminding me of exactly how little I was worth.

  “...pretty skin... tight ass...”

  I moaned as the memories came flooding forward. I couldn't help it. I'd been telling the truth about my mother's murder, but that wasn't my only dark memory. As horrible as that had been, these memories were almost worse.

  I could hear myself screaming, begging. I heard the laughter, that deep masculine laughter that promised pain. And, as always, I could hear his voice. It had been nearly ten years, but I still remembered every word, every action.

  ***

  “What do you think gives you the right to say no to me, you worthless piece of shit?”

  Pain exploded across my face and I cried out. The second blow came so fast I didn't have the chance to defend myself. I dropped to the floor, my head ringing. A third punch and I whited out. As hands tore my shirt from my body, I wished for darkness to take me. I knew what was coming, and I didn't want to be awake when it did.

  “You're just a piece of ass. That's all you're good for.”

  I could feel his hands on me, pulling off my pants and boxers. I tried to hit away his hands as he wrapped his fingers around my soft cock, but he laughed and squeezed. A flare of pain went through me and I cried out, even as the pain started to clear my head.

  He released me and manhandled me onto my stomach. His knee pressed against my spine, keeping me in place as he bound my wrists above my head, then tied them to something I couldn't pull free from. He moved off of me and ran his hand down my back and over my ass.

  “Pretty skin and a tight ass.”

  I tried to get away, pulling against my restraints until I felt them cutting into my wrists. He kicked my side and I gasped, losing my breath. Another kick, and I screamed as something cracked. I pulled my legs up, trying to protect myself, but the gesture only pulled and twisted my shoulders. He laughed again and pulled my legs down, tying both of them apart.

  The gravel scraped and tore at my chest, my stomach, my cock, sending pain shooting through me, but still, I struggled. I screamed for someone to help, anyone, and he didn't care. My head knew that meant no one would hear me, but I screamed just the same.

  He slammed his fist against my temple and I saw stars. He slapped my ass, then dropped his hands to squeeze my balls until I whimpered, unable to make a louder sound.

  “Did you really think you were so special that you could just waltz out of here because you don't swing this way? I don't give a fuck if you're straight. Just means I get to be the first one to take that cherry.”

  He released my balls and slid his hand between my cheeks, his finger pressing against my asshole. I began to beg, my pride shredded away. My only thought was to stop the inevitable.

  “And when I'm done with you, I'm going to leave you here, let whoever wants have a crack at you. Maybe then you'll realize that no one gives a fuck what you want or who you are.”

  I began to pray that he'd just kill me and get it over with.

  ***

  I rubbed my wrists as if I could still feel the ropes around them. I stood, shivering. I turned the cold water almost all the way off, scalding my skin. It still couldn't chase away the ice inside me. With the cold came the hopelessness and worthlessness I worked so hard to keep at bay. When I blocked out my past, I could almost pretend I was as confident as everyone thought I was. But when it hit me, it was a struggle to beat it.

  As I felt the hot water starting to cool down, I turned off the shower and reached for a towel. I turned my face away from the mirror as I dried off, not wanting to see my reflection. In my head, I knew I'd see the same thing I'd seen for years. Hair that might've changed style according to current trends, but was still basically the same. Skin that was still smooth and tanned. A body unmarked with the exception of the tattoo I'd gotten for my mom with my first real paycheck.

  But a part of me was afraid I'd see that same scared seventeen boy who'd gotten the shit beaten out of him on the streets. The boy who'd had everything his father had ever told him solidified in a brutal fashion.

  And that's why I couldn't be with Aubree, why I'd had to pretend to want to keep being an escort. This was the only thing I was good at. I hadn't been lying about that. But it wasn't just because there wasn't anything else I could do. It was also because she deserved someone who wasn't broken, someone who was worthy of her. And that wasn't me.

  I wrapped the towel around my waist and headed to the main area. I quickly turned away as I saw the bed. Fuck. Now I was looking at the center of the room where the cushion, blanket and lights were still set up. That wasn't any better. My stomach knotted at the thought of Aubree stretched out on the cushion, following my every direction. The toys we used were still on the blanket.

  “Dammit,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, flicking droplets of water onto my bare shoulders and chest. I needed to get out of here. I couldn't stay, not with reminders of her everywhere. My safe haven wasn't here anymore.

  A knock at the door pulled me away before I could get lost in my head. I walked across the room, not caring that I wore only a towel. Most people thought that nudity didn't bother me because I was confident in my body. The simple truth was that I didn't care who saw me naked. It didn't matter.

  “Who is it?” I asked as I reached for the doorknob.

  “Open up, Cade.”

  The voice sounded vaguely familiar but I couldn't quite place it. Still, I wasn't stupid enough to just open the door because someone knew my name. It hadn't happened often, but I had, on oc
casion, had a client's husband get pissed at me. How they would've found me here, I didn't know, but it wasn't impossible.

  I put my foot against the base of the door and opened it a crack.

  The shadows kept me from seeing much more than a profile, but it was enough for me to see the scar on the side of his cheek.

  “Sammy?” I could barely breathe.

  He turned toward me and I could see that it was him. Samuel Lehane. Sandy brown hair. Hazel eyes. Slim body that was thinner than I remembered. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been being shoved into the back of a cop car, his clothes covered with blood. Then I'd passed out and hadn't heard from him or seen him again.

  “Hey, Cade.” He gave me a ghost of a smile. “Good to see you again. Can I come in?”

  I was frozen to the spot. This wasn't possible. How could Sammy be here when I'd just been thinking about that time? It was too strange. I had to be imagining him, right?

  Sammy's smile tightened. “Come on, Cade. You gonna make your old buddy stand out in the cold?”

  I took a step back and he walked inside.

  “Nice place,” he said. “Looks like you've done well for yourself in my absence.” He turned toward me and gave me a once over. He reached out and brushed the back of his knuckles across my chest, running from my nipple down to my stomach. “And now you're going to repay me what you owe.”

  To be concluded in the final Casual Encounter Vol. 5, coming December 15th. Click here to get an email as soon the book is available.

  Connect with me on Facebook: http://Facebook.com/MsParkerAuthor

  FREE BOOKS: Don’t forget to check out my other book series, Chasing Perfection and Club Prive, featuring Carrie and Krissy from when they lived in New York City. Right now book 1 of both books is free at most vendors online.

  Acknowledgement First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.

  A big “thanks” goes out to all my Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of my series.

  I have to thank my PA, Shannon Hunt. Without you my life would be a complete and utter mess. Also a big thank you goes out to my editor Lynette and my wonderful cover designer, Sinisa. You make my ideas and writing look so good.

  About The Author

  M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privè and Chasing Perfection.

  Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.

  Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing With The Stars.

  When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing. ☺