by Jessa Kane
POUND OF FLESH
Jessa Kane
Copyright © 2016 Jessa Kane
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
Delilah
So. He’s not how I pictured Prince Charming.
Oh no. The terrifying giant who just kicked in the door of my house is more like the Prince of Death. Or an ogre escaped from a dungeon. His head is shaved, giving the world a perfect view of the scars bisecting his cheek, the crooked angle of his nose. There he stands, ducked below the splintered doorjamb, his lips peeled back in a snarl. Hulk fists curled and shaking. His eyelids are hooded, but the twin slivers of glittering green that zero in on me start my knees knocking.
My brother and his current girlfriend dove behind the couch when the Prince of Death entered the house by incredible force, but I froze. The closest hiding place is the laundry room behind me, but it’s too late. He’s seen me. And I doubt there’s a lock on the planet that could keep this man out.
What does he want?
Very aware that I’m the center of the giant’s intense focus, I cut my gaze toward Roger, my brother. As he peeks over the top of the couch, recognition dawns in his expression, and now I’m really scared. This isn’t just some random robbery; this is yet another person my brother has screwed over. When is he going to learn?
Judging the situation, he might not get the chance. Because we’re all about to be savagely murdered by someone who usually only exists inside nightmares. How unfair is that when I just graduated high school last month? I’ve recently been made a manager at the frozen yogurt shop, guaranteeing I’ll be able to pay for community college classes come fall. My life has barely begun, and now I’m going to be eaten alive.
Figures.
“Are you going to stand up and face me like a man?” The giant roars the question at my brother, but he’s still staring at me. “Or leave this little girl to fight your battles?”
Roger winces, looking to his girlfriend for guidance. She shakes her head and motions for my brother to stay down behind the couch, earning a scowl from me. Oh, real nice. Shows up whenever she pleases, runs up the water bill and eats the food I buy, but now that I’m fixing to get slaughtered, I’m no longer useful.
Resigned to an early death, I figure I might as well go out with some dignity.
“Are you going to pay to fix that door or what?” My voice is shaking, so I lift my chin to compensate. “Our security deposit on this place probably could have covered some cheap funeral expenses. Now the landlord is going to keep the whole darn thing to cover the damage you did.”
Prince of Death’s head tilts so slowly, I swear I hear his neck joints groan. “You’re so sure I’m going to kill you?”
“Well I don’t think you’re here to make me a sandwich.”
Is it my imagination or does the corner of his mouth twitch? “I don’t kill little girls.” He grunts and rests a hand on the broken jamb. Apparently, this is going to be a casual triple murder. “Speaking of which, why are you dressed like a boy?”
Is he trying to make me drop my guard? Seems like a futile exercise since he could snap me like a twig. Glancing down at my navy-blue Dickies work pants and hoodie, I shrug, wishing the ball cap hiding my long, blonde hair was pulled lower so he couldn’t see my self-consciousness. “It’s easier when men come into the shop. They don’t look as much.”
Oh Lord. His frown is so thunderous, my knees start knocking again. In a swift movement, he rips off a chunk of the doorframe, crushing it in his enormous fist, forcing me to trap a scream in my throat. “What. Shop.”
“I’m the manager at Swirly Betty.” Out with some dignity. Out with some dignity. “Best frozen yogurt in the county.”
Nice one, stupid.
“Roger!” the giant shouts. “Why is she working when you stole enough money from me to live comfortably for a fucking decade?”
My brother is now pale as Casper. His girl is definitely contemplating a sprint for the back door. Neither one of them speaks up, though, so once again I fill the silence. “Roger isn’t very good with money management.”
With a look of disgust on his scarred face, the giant scans the living room, taking in the giant flat screen, the collection of gaming consoles, three fish tanks, the lines of cocaine on the coffee table. “I can see that.”
“How do you know I stole your money, Raider?” Roger calls. Finally. “Could be I was just waiting for you to get out of the pen.”
A convict named Raider. Well at least I know the identity of my murderer. Sure, he claims he doesn’t kill “little girls,” but forgive me for being a little distrustful of the devil’s henchman.
“If you had my money,” Raider intones quietly, still watching me under heavy brows. “You wouldn’t be hiding behind a couch right now like a bitch-ass. You’d be handing it over.”
“Look, man. I just need some time—”
“Fine. Two days.”
My brother laughs shakily. “Shit. That was easier than I thought.” Cautiously, he gets to his feet. “Prison has been good for you, Raider. Made you a lot more reasonable.”
“Wrong.” The giant advances into the living room, the floor creaking violently as he approaches me, his muddy boots leaving tracks. My stomach has twisted around in a full three-sixty, my neck already sore from tilting back to keep him in my line of sight. And he’s still ten feet away. Maybe he’ll spare me if I show respect. Bowing down isn’t my usual MO, but this monster is a far cry from the rowdy teenagers I kick out of the shop sometimes.
No, I’m way out of my league, so I bow my head, clasping my hands together and whispering the word please on an endless loop.
When the Cowboys hat is ripped off my head, allowing my hair to spill out, all the way down to mid-thigh, I beg harder. “You said…please, you said two days. I have a savings account, and you can have it all. Just don’t hurt me or my brother.” I pause. “Do whatever you want with his girlfriend.”
“Hey!” the person in question says across the room. “You little c—”
“Watch it,” Raider growls, whipping his head in the couch’s direction, thus taking his attention off me for the first time since kicking down the door, giving me time to run eyes over his at least seven-and-a-half-foot frame. His black, short-sleeved shirt looks ready to burst open from the pressure of keeping his bulk contained. Tattoos rip down his deeply tanned biceps and forearms, culminating on his bashed-up knuckles. He smells like sweat, cold metal and leather. But none of those details make me whimper.
No, it’s the wicked hard-on jutting against the fly of his jeans that makes me stumble back, a mixture of curiosity and fear tumbling in my belly. The walls in my room are thin, and since I can remember, I’ve been listening to my brother and his friends moaning in the other rooms, especially during parties. Springs squeaking. Women crying out. Headboards rebounding.
Roger and his buddies might be drug dealers with broken moral compasses, but they look out for me. They’re protective and caring toward their �
�little sis,” even if I’ve caught Roger’s friends watching me with open speculation lately. That protectiveness, and my busy work schedule, mean I don’t date. Fantasies have been springing to my consciousness more and more, however. My first sexual experience is something I’m looking forward to. A lot.
I thought my first partner would be sweet, though. Prince Charming with a respectably sized penis. Raider’s manhood is almost inhumanly large. Oh God. Oh God. Is he going to…use it on me?
My question is answered when Raider pinches a strand of my blonde hair between two dirty fingers, lifting it to his nose for a long, groaning inhale. Then, with a gruff, desperate sound, he fists a large section of the golden mass and rubs my overly long locks against his crotch, daring me with green eyes to make him stop. That barrel chest shudders like a storming ocean, and I swear, for a second, I think he’s going to drag me down onto the kitchen floor. Going to have his way with me, then and there.
“Come on, Raider.” Roger takes a few steps our way, bristling but still cautious. “I know you just got out and…you probably need a woman. But she’s my little sister.”
“Not right now, she ain’t.” His upper lip curls, dark promises moving behind his glazed eyes. “For the next two days, she’s my collateral.”
CHAPTER TWO
Raider
The beautiful doll grew up while I was locked away.
It’s stupid to be hurt that she doesn’t remember me, considering the single time I laid eyes on her, I was hidden behind the tinted windows of my car. I’m a big, scary-ass motherfucker, so if we’d met, she’d remember. No way in hell she’s going to forget me now that I’ve rubbed her pretty hair on my cock. Yeah, that’s definitely an introduction that sticks.
Another man might be embarrassed over that kind of behavior, but I’m just glad we got my intention to fuck her silly out of the way. I’m going on three years without a woman, and this doll had the nerve to grow up into a living, breathing wet dream. The fates were laughing when they put her in my path tonight, because neither one of us ever had a chance.
I’m standing in the doorway of her bedroom, barely checking the impulse to lock us both inside, rip off those baggy pants and ride her rotten. Believe me, I don’t give a fuck if her brother hears the whole damn show. The only thing holding me back is her tiny, cramped twin bed. Cut myself in half and I still wouldn’t fit. I suppose I could bang her standing up or bent over, but…maybe, just maybe I’ve got a thread of decency left inside me, because I’d hurt her that way.
And no one hurts the doll.
Before I went away, I made sure to put the fear of God into Roger and all his shithead pals, warning them that touching her equaled death. Made sure they knew I wasn’t taking the fall for any of them, too. Nope. One look at Delilah through those tinted car windows and I was affected enough to take every ounce of blame when my job with her brother went south. Leaving her alone on the outside without family was out of the question. So I spent three years behind bars, waiting for my chance to come collect on the favor I did for her brother.
Consider it collected, because whether or not he coughs up the cash he owes me for the last job we did, ain’t no way in hell I’m giving her back. I am a gentleman, though, so I’m giving her two days to make that decision herself. To stay with me.
Delilah bends over to fish something out of her bottom dresser drawer, pulling the starchy material taut over her sweet tush. A hint of white panties peeks out over the waistband. My low growl makes her jump and spin around, falling back against the furniture with a loud rattle. I amend my earlier statement that I’m some kind of gentleman. I’m the furthest thing from one. I’m a horny, pissed off, criminal bastard, and she’s got the misfortune of tending to my neglected dick tonight.
“You finished packing or what, doll?” I run my tongue along my bottom lip. “We’ve got a date, you and me. And we’re three years late for it.”
Her light brows, just a couple shades darker than her hair, dip in confusion, but she doesn’t question what I said. “Where are you taking me?”
“The first time? On your back.”
She flinches, pink sliding into her cheeks, but she doesn’t exactly look horrified. Her light brown eyes drop to my zipper, her lips moving as if she’s doing math equations in her head. Or praying. “Can I bring my alligator?”
“You have an alligator.”
“It’s stuffed,” she murmurs, pointing to her bed, where sure enough, a giant, green, stuffed alligator sits, stitched lips lifted in a smile. “My mom won it for me at a carnival before she died. It’s…it’s comforting for me. And I’m probably going to need comfort after you squash me to death.”
Thinking of Delilah lying here every night, holding a stuffed alligator for comfort, is making my chest feel weird. Right in the middle. I’ve only experienced this weird wrenching feeling once before—the day I took the fall for her brother. Something about the doll being alone and sad drives me insane, makes me want to rip at the flesh covering my heart. “Stop implying I’m going to kill you.” She picks up the alligator and presses her face into the green cushiness, watching me over the top of it. Reassuring words claw the insides of my throat—I wouldn’t harm a single hair on your head—but I swallow them down. She wouldn’t believe me. Her visible terror when I walked into the house confirmed she looks at me and sees a freak, same as everyone else. “For now, anyway, you’re safe. Bring your fucking toy. Let’s go.”
I wait for her at the door, taking the backpack off her hands, stuffing the alligator under my other arm. We head into the living room, where her brother is waiting, head in his hands. His mouthy girl is long gone, and I half-expected Roger to bail, too, while his sister was packing. But it’s clear he’s worried as hell for Delilah. Worried and guilty. “I’m going to get the cash for him, sis. It’ll all be over in two days. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Roger goes to hug her, but I block his path, my blood going hot. “Mine.”
“Temporarily,” he says through clenched teeth. “Don’t forget that.”
This punk blew all his money on cocaine and tricked his house out, forcing his sister to get a job. Now he has the nerve to put a claim on her? Just thinking of her coming home tired from standing on her feet or being vulnerable at night in some shop makes me want to break his jaw. I drop the backpack and rear back with my fist, but when I go to throw the punch, Delilah is there, dangling from my arm.
“Please, don’t. Please.” Slowly, she lets go of my arm, dropping several inches to the floor. I hold my breath as she comes closer, hands lifted in peace. “We have a date, remember?” Oh. Oh shit. Her fingers glide up my chest, and I can’t—c-can’t believe she’s touching me voluntarily. It’s such a shock to the system, my breath shudders out and I sway closer, dropping my cheek to the top of her head, staring out at nothing.
“Ho-lee shit,” Roger whispers. “You tamed the beast, sis.”
“Now would be a good time to shut up, Roger,” Delilah says, a catch in her voice. Her fingertips reach the bare skin of my neck, curling into the collar. My dick jerks against the fly of my jeans, blood rushing south fast enough to make me dizzy. I groan. My pulse pounds, my mouth going dry.
I lift my head, but my neck barely works. This isn’t good. I’m in enemy territory and someone could come up behind me right now, hit me over the head with a heavy enough object and I’d be defenseless, as long as Delilah’s hands are on me. No one has ever touched me without payment first. Or some kind of leverage in place. No one but this tiny doll who’s watching me curiously from beneath curly black eyelashes. “Please don’t hurt my brother,” she says for my ears alone, dampness shining in her eyes. “He’s harmless.”
The presence of those tears makes me hunger to sacrifice myself at her feet. Maybe she doesn’t think I’m a freak. “No.” The word rumbles free. “Won’t hurt him.”
“Just take me with you.” I hear her swallow, see the nerves return to her expression. Have they been there all along? “You’r
e going to hurt me instead, remember?”
My raging lust is cut with bitterness and disappointment. A wounded sound tries to escape from my mouth, but I clamp my teeth down around it until my gums ache. “You think I could forget our date?” I laugh, ignoring how unnatural it sounds. Ignoring the new speculation in Roger’s eyes. There’s even some relief there, as if I’ve shown my true colors and revealed Delilah as my weakness. That won’t work. Not at all. If I don’t have fear on my side, men take advantage too easily. I wasn’t always this big. I know too well how others can prey on a man when they don’t have a healthy enough fear. That lesson was only strengthened itself in prison.
I won’t be taken advantage of with the doll in my possession. If they see me as weak, they might try to steal her back from me. No. No, I won’t allow that.
Retrieving Delilah’s backpack, I steer her toward the door, pausing to speak in her brother’s ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” With a low laugh, I slide my fingers into the soft strands of Delilah’s hair and rub them on my stomach. “Well. My version of gentle, anyway.”
“Fuck you, Raider.”
I hear the words, but I’m too distracted by Delilah’s shoulders stiffening. Too distracted by my self-disgust. This is how I repay her for being brave enough to touch me? For being loyal toward her family?
Resolve stiffens my back, and I march her out the door. There’s no help for how I am, how I look. How she sees me. The sooner she gets accustomed to an ugly bastard between her sweet virgin thighs, the better.
CHAPTER THREE
Delilah
I have now voluntarily climbed into a shitty white van with blacked-out windows, in case you’re wondering how my night is going. Before we left the house, I could have sworn Raider showed a softer side, but I must have gotten a contact high from whatever my brother has been smoking, because he’s back to resembling a deranged psycho killer, driving the chugging van like a bat out of hell.
