by R. J. Lewis
“So, what happened?”
His smile curved up. “You happened.”
My heart slowed and then squeezed. I felt my skin burning under his gaze.
“All these lines,” I murmured, shaking my head. “You’re good, Conor Thames.”
“It’s funny,” he replied, “because they’re not lines.”
“Everything you said tonight was real?”
“Everything.” He found my hand and traced his finger down my palm, still watching me, entranced. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful girl. I’ve never been damned like that. I’ve been glared at, but they don’t hold a candle next to you. You’re vicious.”
I smiled. “You’re not very nice.”
“Fuck nice. If it means you staring at me like that, I’ll be your villain. Honestly, Charlotte, you have a fucking softness about you and it’s doing my head in. Everything about you. The way you scolded me at the door when I closed it. The way you stood in front of it, pushing your limits. The way you breathed in the car, tormenting yourself with lust. You wanted me, but you tried to talk sense into yourself, and you lost to a dark voice. You’re not black and white. You broke the rules tonight, and I like a rule-breaker, dove.”
Conor said that without realizing he was fucking all men for me. Who would ever say words like that to me? The best compliment Reid had ever given me was, “You’re really pretty with your hair like that.”
Malcolm in the fourth grade also said once, “You have nice boobs.” And I actually felt good about that! What in the fuck? I was such a pathetic soul if things like that made my day – I mean, I still carried that memory into my eighteenth year of life, so Malcolm obviously did something right.
Later, Conor made out with me again. I went on my knees for him, and he took me from behind. I expected punishing strokes, and hair pulling. But he was slow about it. Moving in and out so I felt every inch of him. He played with my clit for an eternity, and when I came into his hand, he finished inside me. He looked so content, dropping to the mattress and bringing me down with him. His eyes were glazed. His mouth was parted, and he looked positively satiated.
We talked until I fell asleep in his arms, and the last thing I remembered was his kiss on my shoulder.
Chapter Four
Charlotte
Conor got up early. I felt him stir and remove his arm around my waist. When I cracked an eye open, I glanced at the time. It was six in the morning and my head felt like it was about to blow up.
“Keep sleeping, dove,” he murmured to me, slipping out. His warmth left me, but he threw the covers where my skin was exposed. He walked totally nude to the bathroom, shutting it quietly.
Considerate asshole.
I shut my eyes again, drifting in and out of sleep. When I opened them again, I didn’t know how much time had passed, but he’d just left the bathroom, dripping from his shower. No towel, nothing. Still totally naked. I pretended to be asleep, but I watched him move to his drawers, leafing through them like he hadn’t been in them in a while. My eyes ran over his tattoos, covering most of his back and arms. Fiery skulls and shaded images I didn’t know the meaning of. He was ripped. The muscles I felt last night looked bigger in the morning light. His dick swayed with his movements. He wasn’t even hard, and it looked like a damn third leg. He didn’t give a fuck how exposed he was. Who would care looking like that? Meanwhile, I wanted to disappear under the covers so he’d never see my skin in the light. Typical insecurities, yet he hadn’t minded my curves at all last night when he fucked me to oblivion and back.
I resisted squirming my legs together to feel the ache he’d left behind between them.
He slipped on some jogging pants. The expensive brand type. The kind that hugged his ass just right. Then a plain white tee followed. He wasn’t the dressy type. He would always look like he was going to the gym. Grabbing another pair of sweats and a plain tee, he walked over to the bed and threw them down by my feet.
“I know you’re awake, babe. Here’s some after-fuck clothes. I can run your skimpy little uniform to the dryer. Come out when you’re ready to show that sinful as fuck face.” Without waiting for a response, he smacked my ass through the covers and left the room.
Oh, God.
My cheeks burned. I buried my face in the pillow. I was totally out of my depth here. This sleeping around with a man I’d just met shit was brand spanking new, and when I thought of that, my heart ached. He seemed so blasé about having someone in his bed. He must have done this countless times. Was I just a fuck that was going to wear his after-fuck clothes until my uniform dried and be sent on my way?
What I’d just done had consequences. I’d pretty much fucked my entire life over in one night. Good-bye, Reid and our one-year anniversary. Good-bye popular clique at school because there was no way he would want to be associated with me, and they would follow suit. I’d only been embraced because he’d saw something in me. Good-bye social life and car rides and a bed I could sleep in that wasn’t my own in that dreaded house. Where was I going to find refuge now?
I would have to go home regularly after this.
There would be no saving me from the devil.
And did Conor care? Were his words just fake lies wrapped in cotton candy and sinful lips?
I tried to hush that stupid voice in my head. He’d cradled me all night, kissed the spot behind my ear after he’d taken me and had given me more affection in one night than probably my whole life. No way was I just a quick fuck. He proved that countless times last night. The Conor Thames everybody knew was absent in this bedroom. He was real and he wanted me.
I had to be chill about this.
“Hi, Uncle Conor!” a little girl squealed, bringing me back to earth.
My head immediately shot up. Dear God, no. I forgot about his sister living here. She had a kid? Oh, fuck. Was I quiet last night? Did she hear us? I groaned into the pillow. Could I hide out here? Glancing at the time, I felt dread at the pit of my stomach. I had work in a little over an hour. I had to get up some point soon.
I forced myself out of the comfiest bed I’d ever slept in. Fuck, I didn’t just ache between my legs. I felt aches in places I didn’t know existed. My ass felt raw from his squeezes and deep grips. My spine only felt better when I curved it. I felt like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I avoided looking at myself in the dresser mirror. I didn’t need to have that memory. I grabbed his clothes and threw them on. Then I tip-toed to the bathroom just in case the floors were creaky, and I could be heard.
The bathroom was bigger than my bedroom. The shower stall looked tempting, and I probably stunk of sex, but because I was a traumatized little pup in need of constant fucking reassurance, I felt like I needed permission using it, so I didn’t. I peed and washed my hands. Then I stood in the bathroom for, like, twenty fucking minutes.
“Just get it over with,” I whispered to myself, chewing my thumbnail – another nervous habit.
It took me another five minutes to get to the door, and then another few minutes standing behind the door, anxiety a ball inside my belly.
Then I just did it.
I opened the door and stepped out. I walked, barefoot, to the end of the long corridor, wincing when I entered the living room. The light in the apartment was oppressive. Every window’s blinds were pulled up. The sun poured in and brought out the albino spirit animal inside me. I squinted and my head throbbed like I’d had a hangover – can you get that way after sex?
And because the entire apartment was open concept, I had a small audience at the dining table waiting for me. There was a blonde woman that looked like Conor sitting at the table. She was dolled up. Red long nails, blonde hair in an impeccable updo, pink lipstick, tanned skin, make-up that was way out of my price range. To top it off, she was dressed finely in a grey autumn long-sleeve dress.
And I looked like a skater boy from the trailer park.
She spotted me straight away. Her mouth dropped in shock as her eyes looked me over. It was that c
ringy three second judgmental evaluation. Like, who is this girl? What is she wearing? What in God’s name did he bring home? And what is she wearing, seriously?
Then she openly looked to her right where a man sat and waited for him to follow her line of sight. The man, in question, looked like your typical Blackwater delinquent. He sported that buzzed do, had a hat on backwards, and a sleeve tattoo that extended past the wrist and snaked along his fingers. None of that bothered me – after all, Conor was a Blackwater boy. No, what bothered me was the smug look on his face as he turned and looked me over. Pure judgment. Pure distaste. I was something to laugh at.
“Isn’t she too young for Conor?” he mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.
I searched the apartment quickly for Conor. He wasn’t around. This smug asshole wouldn’t be saying that in front of him.
“He’s putting your clothes in the dryer in the laundromat on the first floor,” the sister said, making me look back at her. “You can sit here if you’d like. He’ll be back, and there’s food on the table if you’re interested.”
With that invitation, I didn’t think I had a choice. Despite being a joke to the wanna-be rapper sitting at the table still judging me, I went there, nonetheless. He was sitting at the head of the table – of course he was – so I sat in the middle, across from Conor’s ridiculously pretty sister.
I glanced at the food in front of me. There was toast, some cheese, butter, a jug of orange juice, and berries. How long they’d been sitting there was questionable. Okay, then. I wasn’t that hungry.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
I clasped my hands together in my lap. “Charlotte. What’s yours?”
The man guffawed. “You must be living under a fucking rock if you don’t know Conor’s sister.”
I deadpanned. “I don’t know her.”
“Beauty Queen of Blackwater three years straight. Miss Ember Thames.”
Beauty Queen of Blackwater. People seriously wanted that title?
“Five foot nine,” he continued, staring at her intently. “One hundred and fifteen pounds of toned goodness. Her talent’s her angelic singing voice. Sang a Beyonce song this year, didn’t you, babe? It was called Hollow or some shit, right?”
I was pretty sure he meant Halo.
Looking at her, I smiled sweetly. “Congratulations.”
She saw straight through my bullshit. Her eyes narrowed curiously. “It ain’t a big deal. I got a full set of teeth, quick win.”
“You’re very beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“You shouldn’t undermine that shit, Em,” the rapper grated out. He looked genuinely offended. “No one’s got your beauty. No one.”
She shrugged with one shoulder and that was that. What followed was a moment of painful silence. He ate two more bits of toast, crunching loudly, and she knocked back a few berries.
I stared down at the toast in the middle of the table and let out a long sigh. The clock was ticking. When was Conor coming back?
Right on cue, the front door swung open and he strolled in with a little girl hot on his heels. His eyes immediately found mine and then they swung over to his sister and her beau. His eyes darkened.
“In your room, Lily,” he said. “And close the door.”
He approached the table but didn’t sit down. Instead, he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. Walking past me, he squeezed my shoulder once and took out a bowl from the cabinet.
“Hope you ain’t letting strange men into my apartment, Ember,” he then said, without looking at her.
Ember shook her head. “No, Conor, it’s just my boyfriend.”
“How long’s Dan been around?”
Her beau turned his head back to look at Conor. “I’m right here, man. You can just ask.”
“I’m fucking asking, aren’t I?” Conor retorted. “How. Long. Has. Danny. Boy. Been. Around.”
“A few months,” Ember quickly answered.
Her beau by the name of Dan ground his teeth, looking shitty at her. “Been longer than that, Em. Get your timing right.”
“Well, jeez, Dan, I’m not counting the days.”
“Guess it matters more to me then.”
As Conor rummaged around, I watched the strange shit show in front of me. Why was he talking like that to her, and why did she look so used to it?
A bowl of Raisin Bran was placed in front of me. “Eat something, dove.”
Surprised I looked up at Conor as he stared hard at Dan. “You better watch your mouth around my sister, Danny boy.”
Dan turned his gaze to Conor and let out a strange laugh. “I watch my mouth just fine, Conor. Is she complaining to you?”
“My sister tends to pick shitty partners,” Conor returned. “She doesn’t know any better.”
Ember’s face fell. “Conor, that isn’t true.”
“I get out of prison and you’re with this fucking goof, Ember. He was a fucking idiot back in high school. Treated girls like they were fucking prey.”
Dan gritted his teeth. “With all due respect, Conor, the last person she should take advice from is you. Like you just said, you got out of prison fucking yesterday.”
“Want to know why I was in there the first place?” Conor said simply, a chilling smile spreading on his lips. “Want to tell him, Ember?”
Ember scowled at him. “Fuck sake, Conor, just let that be, will you?”
“What did I do that scummy dickhead that laid his fingers on you? Tell your Danny boy how many fingers Garrett Port has left. Did the hospital put them back on right?”
“Goddammit, Conor.”
“So, you’re a violent sadist,” Dan interjected with a shrug. “Good for you, Conor. I work at the Pharmacy, did you know that?”
“I don’t fucking care.”
“I make good money. I didn’t throw my life away getting locked up a thousand times since I was fifteen years old.”
“Good for you, Dan,” Conor repeated back to him.
That only served to piss Dan off. “I thought of my future, Conor, while you were too busy taking speed or whatever trip you were into at the time.”
Conor chuckled wryly. “Is that right? Because I thought you were preoccupied in being a Peeping Tom. Isn’t that the real story? Gina sure squealed loud about that underwear you stole at her graduation party.”
Dan played it off with a smile. “She gave those to me.”
“Gina was with me that night, you fucking idiot. Keep smirking, buddy, but that smug look on your face won’t be there in a few minutes.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m telling you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means enjoy that smug smile while it lasts.”
Dan’s face went red. “You know, I heard you’re on parole. And you know what that means, yeah? You can’t lay a finger on me.”
Conor didn’t respond. He just stared at Dan with that look. The look that meant something bad was coming.
“Eat up, dove,” he then said, squeezing my shoulder again.
I picked up the spoon and slowly took a bite. I felt like I had an audience. Everyone’s eyes except Conor’s bounced from person to person. The tension was painful. Ember leaned toward Dan and rubbed his arm affectionately. She smiled at him with reassurance, but it didn’t meet her eyes. At the same time, she hesitantly flickered her gaze at Conor, who stood there, stoic still. Dan looked smug as fuck as he grabbed the last bit of toast and took a huge mouthful. He must have felt safe from Conor because he was right. Conor was on parole and wouldn’t risk going back to prison.
“When’s work start?” Conor asked me, finally looking away from Dan.
“Forty minutes,” I answered, downing the last bite of my cereal. “I can get there just fine, Conor.”
“No. I’ll take you into work in twenty.”
Conor took the bowl from the table and began walking toward the sink.
“Work?” Da
n said, chuckling as he gave me a once over. “I didn’t know twelve-year-olds went to work.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m eighteen.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Six years is a big difference.”
“Doesn’t feel like it. We’re twenty-six and that’s a fucking weird age difference going on.” He spoke over his shoulder, smirking. “I thought you liked them older, Conor. Thought young pussy wasn’t your thing –”
Everything happened so quickly and all at once. Conor swung around and slammed the bowl against the back of Dan’s head. Ember screamed, and I jumped out of my chair in shock. The bowl smashed when it hit the ground and Dan fell off his chair in a heap. Conor went at him, grabbing him by his popped collar and belting him with his fist.
“Stop it, Conor!” Ember screamed. “Stop it!”
He paused his punches and pointed a bloody finger at his sister. “Don’t you fucking start with me, Ember!”
“Then fucking stop!”
“Stop? Don’t think I haven’t seen the fucking bruises on the back of your arms! Lily told me everything! You’ve been fucking irresponsible!”
Conor preaching responsibility was an irony not lost on me. I stood still, gawking in awe as Conor resumed his beating. Ember jumped to his side, trying to pull him off Dan, but it was absolutely useless. Conor was huge and she looked like a tiny insect. She kept screaming he was going to go back to prison. To stop. But I watched every hit that landed on Dan’s face and hated Ember’s pleas. Conor had come to her rescue. Had beaten a man that had hurt her. He loved her enough to do that, and she was screaming how much she hated him.
After a few minutes, Conor dragged Dan out of the apartment with one hand, barely breaking a sweat. He literally kicked him out of the front door and slammed it shut so loud the entire apartment shook. Then he strode back into the kitchen, past a sobbing Ember on the floor and began washing his bloody hands at the sink.
“I hate you, I hate you,” she cried, burying her face in her hands.
“Good,” Conor retorted. “Keep hating me, but if I catch you with another one of these fucking losers, I will make sure Lily grows up with Mom.”
