Wrecking Beauty

by Celia Loren

  “I got it a few years ago, when I was still in my old club. We were working with this Mexican cartel, helping them run guns in Nevada. A rival gang took out our supply, and the Mexicans hit us when we couldn’t repay them. We lost a couple, and I got the shit kicked out of me. Got this scar to remember it all by. Never saw that knife coming. Still don’t have my full peripheral vision in this eye.”

  Addison studied his face as he spoke. Their lives had been so different; though she’d known her share of violence too, she supposed.

  “I thought I had killed Owen, at first. He was choking me, and I hit him in the head with my laptop. There was a lot of blood. Maybe it would have been good if I did.”

  He kissed her forehead gently. “Do you think you can sleep?”

  Addison nodded. She felt safe in his embrace, and she was exhausted. She quickly drifted off to sleep.

  In her dreams, she was pulling Salem out of a pit of blood. Salem was looking up at her with brown eyes so similar to her father’s, and they were filled with fear. The blood was so slippery, and Addison couldn’t hold on. She felt a kick to her stomach, and Salem dropped from her grasp and disappeared under the blood. She turned upward and saw Owen standing over her. His eyes were completely black, and he kicked her again and again in the stomach. She screamed, but no sound came out. Owen opened his mouth as if to mimic her, and beetles poured out of the black orifice, running down his body and storming over hers.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I thought we were going to have a little more fun than this bullshit,” Owen said, drumming his fingers on the passenger side door.

  “Maybe if you ease off the coke a little, you wouldn’t find it so tedious,” Viktor murmured from the driver’s seat. They were parked in a black SUV on a street of rundown houses. Two of Viktor’s Russian thugs sat in the backseat, their eyes unreadable behind black sunglasses.

  “Fuck off, Viktor,” Owen shot back, leaning forward to do another line off the dashboard. They’d been watching a house on the opposite side of the street since late last night, when they’d learned through one of Viktor’s contacts that a Reaper’s girlfriend lived in the upstairs apartment. All of the bikers had been laying low, so they were hoping this one couldn’t stay away from his girl for too long.

  “What about you two, want a hit?” Owen asked, turning toward the two large men in the backseat. They both glanced toward Viktor’s face in the rearview. He met their eyes. “Hey! Don’t look at him. He works for me. I’m his boss, so that makes me your boss, and I’m asking if you want a fucking hit.”

  “No, sir,” the one seated behind Viktor said in a thick Russian accent.

  “Christ,” Owen said turning back to the front and drumming his hands on his legs. “You guys carrying?”

  “Yes, sir,” the same man repeated.

  “You got a knife?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Give it to me.” The man started to glance toward Viktor, but just stopped himself. He slowly reached toward his waist, and pulling his black trench coat open, he revealed a handgun holstered over his right side, and a knife in a black sheath on his left. He unbuckled the sheath from his belt and handed it to Owen. Owen took it and pulled out the knife. It had a black handle, tipped on the end with silver. The blade was about five inches long, flat on one side, and curved to a thin, sharp point. “Nice,” Owen said, and drew it across the dashboard, leaving a deep cut.

  “Viktor,” the man on the other side of the car said, nodding toward the end of the street. They all turned to see a man in a black leather jacket turning right onto the street. He slowed, and pulled up to the house. It was Dallas. He glanced around, then guided his bike to the alley next to the house, where it couldn’t be seen from the street.

  The men in the car watched as he walked up the rusted outside stairwell to the second floor, and a woman in a pink satin bathrobe opened the door and threw her arms around him.

  “Let’s go!” cried Owen, glancing around at the unmoving men.

  “Let him get comfortable. He’ll take off his gun to fuck her.”

  Owen frowned, looking back toward Dallas, who disappeared into the house with his girlfriend. Staring tensely at the clock, he watched as ten minutes went by.

  “Good enough,” said Viktor, “he didn’t look like one for much foreplay.” Quickly, but without rushing, the men got out of the car and made their way to the house. Owen was hopped up on adrenaline and coke, but the Russians moved with an eerie calmness. With Viktor in the lead, they stealthily climbed the outside stairwell and made their way up to the landing. Viktor nodded at one of his men, and he walked up to the door. With one mighty kick at the keyhole, the door splintered inward, and Viktor rushed in, followed by his men and then Owen.

  Guns drawn, they quickly made their way through the empty living room. Viktor pushed through a slightly open door, and they found Dallas and his girlfriend in the bedroom. They were both completely naked, and Dallas was scrambling to reach his gun, which was with his clothes in a pile across the room. As the men burst in, Dallas’s girlfriend started screaming. Viktor pointed his gun at Dallas, and he froze. One of his men quickly pulled Dallas’s hands behind his back and yanked him up to standing. The other pointed his gun at Dallas’s girlfriend, who continued to scream.

  “Shut up,” Viktor commanded, holstering his gun. She softly whimpered and did her best to cover her breasts with her hands. Viktor pulled a shitty orange chair from the corner and pushed it to the center of the room. “Sit,” he ordered Dallas. His man pushed Dallas into the chair, picked up Dallas’ gun from the floor, and held it to his head.

  “Fuck, yes,” said Owen, leaning in the doorway. Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, facing Dallas, and his girlfriend inched away from him.

  “Your name?” Viktor asked, his voice low and calm.

  “Dallas.”

  “I assume you know who I am?” Dallas nodded. “And why I’m here?” Dallas nodded again. “Good. I’ll make this very simple for you. Tell me where I can find Addison and the one who killed my men, and you live. If not, you die. Slowly.”

  “I don’t know where they are. I swear to god, I don’t,” Dallas said. Viktor stood and removed a knife from his side holster. He leaned over Dallas and smoothly cut a three inch line across his chest, just over his right nipple. A line of red appeared as the wound spilled over with blood. His girlfriend began sobbing on the bed. Dallas grit his teeth, and began to breathe hard through the pain. Owen stood motionless in the doorway, his eyes glittering with excitement.

  “I don’t know,” he said again. Viktor sliced a matching cut on the left side of his chest, a little deeper this time. Dallas cried out.

  “Stop! Stop! Please!” his girlfriend screamed.

  “Maybe she knows,” Owen said, grinning. From the foot of the bed, he grabbed the girl’s leg and pulled her down to him. She clawed desperately at the sheets. Grabbing her neck, he pinned her to the bed, then began unbuttoning his pants.

  “No!” she screamed. Owen’s pants dropped to the ground.

  “Wait! Wait,” Dallas yelled desperately. “I don’t know where they are now, but I can… arrange something… draw them out.” Owen paused.

  “Go on,” Viktor said.

  “I’ll arrange a meeting or something, where you can take them. Please, just leave her out of this. I can make it happen, I swear to you,” Dallas begged.

  “How could we ensure it’s not a trap?” Viktor asked.

  “You name the place,” Dallas countered. Viktor considered.

  “King’s Casino. Tonight.”

  “What? But, how…” Dallas sputtered.

  “I’ll have men watching this place until it’s done. If you fail, she dies. Page this number when you arrive at the casino.” He took a card out of his pocket and tossed it on the bed. With a nod at his men, he walked out of the apartment.

  “Next time, sweetheart,” Owen said, leaning down to kiss the woman on the mouth. She squirmed underneath him. He pulled up
his pants and followed Viktor out.

  They made their way down the stairs and out to the car in silence. Viktor beckoned to one of his men.

  “Call Anton. Have him bring another car. You two sit on the apartment. Make sure she doesn’t leave, but keep a low profile. We don’t want the other Reapers to get wind of it.”

  His man nodded and pulled out his cell to make the call, with his eyes already trained on the apartment. Suddenly Viktor crossed in front of Owen, and with a shove, threw him against the side of the car.

  “What the fuck, Viktor?” Owen yelled, scrambling back at him. Viktor was quickly on top of him, pinning him with his forearm against his neck to the passenger side door. “Hey, you!” Owen gurgled at the other thug, “get him off me!” The man didn’t move. “You work for me! Get him off!” The man stared at Owen impassively.

  “Maybe now you understand how things work. You are nothing but a complication to me,” Viktor hissed.

  “I’ll tell my father!”

  “And I will tell him that you are high on coke and just tried to rape a woman.”

  “Well, it worked, didn’t it?!” Owen could barely get the words out, and his face was turning bright red.

  “It’s not how I operate. I get in, get out. No mess. You, Owen, like to create messes. That’s all you do. For the rest of your time here, you will stay out of my way. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Owen sputtered. Viktor released him, and Owen gasped for air and rubbed his neck. Owen glared up at Viktor as he bent over, struggling to regain his breath. He had never hated anyone more. He hated Viktor for his strength, his discipline, and mostly for his father. His father who had more respect for Viktor than for his own son, even though he was some stupid inbred Russian, who didn’t even deserve to clean up after him. He would get him one day. One day Viktor Malitzka would regret crossing Owen Devlin.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Addison woke up with a start. She was covered in sweat, and the sheets were tangled around her waist.

  “You OK?” Cutler asked, rolling over to her and placing one arm above her head on the pillow, propping himself up on his arm. “You were tossing and turning some last night, but I wasn’t sure if I should wake you.”

  “I hope I didn’t keep you up.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I just had some bad dreams, that’s all.”

  Cutler dropped down off his elbow and lay his head on the pillow next to hers. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were both naked. The sunlight was streaming in through the tops of the windows, and she let her eyes trail down his chest to his sinewy abdominal muscles.

  He was lean and ripped in a way that came from using his strength to make a living, not by pushing reps in a gym. She subconsciously licked her lips as he shifted slightly and his muscles rippled under his tanned skin. He smiled slightly, realizing she wanted him again.

  He let his top leg drape over hers, pinning them to the bed. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide, and felt her breath already speeding up. She couldn’t believe how quickly he could turn her on. He propped himself back up on his elbow, and let his other hand delicately trace the skin on her opposite forearm. She felt her skin tingling where he touched it, and goose bumps cascaded up her arm.

  His hand lingered on her arm, made its way up to her shoulder, then across her collarbone. With his foot, he pulled down the sheets so that she was exposed, completely naked in front of him, but he was still covered up to his waist. His eyes traveled over her tight young body, drinking her in. She felt herself light up with desire at his appreciative gaze.

  He leaned into her ear and whispered, “You can do anything with me—I don’t care about you being a ‘lady.’”

  She looked up at him and held eye contact. His eyes glinted dark brown and amber in the sunlight. Fuck it, what do I have to lose at this point? she thought. Still holding his gaze, she reached under the sheet and took his cock in her hand. He was already rock-hard, and he groaned as she wrapped her hand around the base of his dick.

  She stroked him gently from base to tip, still watching his eyes. With her other hand, she grasped the sheet, and tossed it off the bed, exposing him in his entirety. Shaking off his leg, she pushed him over onto his back, then moved her head down to his chest and circled his nipple with her tongue. Pressing down harder, she took his nipple in her mouth and nibbled gently. He closed his eyes and grinned, loving the sensation.

  Taking her hand off his dick, she straddled him across the waist, and was surprised when he slipped his hands around her butt and massaged each cheek. Then he quickly lifted her up and scooted her towards his head while bringing his own body toward the foot of the bed, so that she was now straddling him just above his shoulders. His eyes glittering, he tilted his head up and blew softly on her clit. Addison bit her lip, trying not to move. She watched as he nestled his nose between her lips, and quickly flicked his tongue out across her. She gasped.

  He leaned back and slid his hands to her thighs, pulling her down on top of his mouth. Addison cried out as he opened his mouth and slid his tongue inside her, then licked her up to her clit. He took his right hand and slid it under her leg then up inside her with two fingers, circling her inside as he played with her clit with his tongue. Addison groaned and let her back arch and her head fall backward, her eyes closed.

  “Oh, Cutler,” she cried out, as she came hard. He circled his fingers within her slowly as she finished spasming around him. She tilted her head back up, and with a smile at him, reached behind him and took his balls in her hand and began massaging them. Cutler grabbed the sheet over the mattress, clutching it in his hands as he fought to control himself. He reached over and grabbed a condom from a drawer in the nightstand and ripped the foil off with his teeth. He handed it to her, and she turned her head slightly to unroll it down his dick.

  Addison walked herself backward on her knees, then hovered over him, watching his face. Then she sank down over him, and Cutler cried out. As she sank to the base of his cock, she circled her hips, then rose back up. Again she sank down and circled her hips, over and over again. Cutler reached up and began massaging her clit with his thumb, and Addison gasped, feeling waves of pleasure wash over her again. She rode him harder and harder, feeling the exquisite pleasureful-pain of his cock stretching her to her limit. He bucked his hips, matching her rhythm.

  “Oh, fuck!” he cried out as he came inside her. Addison came just an instant later, crying out his name. She collapsed on top of him, their sweat mixing on their chests. They lay there for a while until their breathing began to slow, Addison enjoying the feeling of him being inside her. With a sigh, finally picked herself up and dropped into a heap on the bed next to him. He turned into her wrapping his arm around her waist and burying his face into her neck. He kissed her softly on the cheek, then pulled himself up and out of bed.

  She watched him pull a pair of boxers out of the bureau, then walk into the bathroom and shut the door. He came out a moment later wearing them.

  “Breakfast?” he asked.

  “Mmmm,” Addison replied, stretching.

  He walked out of the bedroom, and she heard him messing around with pots in the kitchen. She rolled to the side, and saw her clothes in a pile on the floor, but didn’t feel like putting them on. She stood up and saw one of Cutler’s t-shirts slung over a chair in the corner. Walking over, she picked it up and smelled it. Not bad. She pulled it on, and it hung almost to the middle of her thighs.

  She walked out into the living room, and saw Cutler over the stove. He glanced up at her.

  “Wow, so this is a full-service establishment,” she said.

  “Just eggs,” he said. “I don’t keep much here.”

  “Sounds great,” she said, sitting on the bar stool at the counter. She watched him as he pushed the eggs around in a pan with a spatula. She felt oddly at home here. She felt like Cutler didn’t want her to be anybody but herself, and the sex had been…freeing, eye-opening, and so, so satisfying
. She twisted slightly in her seat, realizing how sore she was.

  He scooped some scrambled eggs onto two plates, and slid one over to her, then grabbed a couple forks from a drawer. Addison hungrily dug in. She realized she hadn’t eaten since some peanuts on the plane ride. She finished eating and looked up to see Cutler smiling at her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that I live with a bunch of huge men and I’ve never seen anyone eat that fast. Guess I pictured you being a little more British and proper.”

  “I wasn’t so proper last night.”

  “Or this morning,” Cutler said, with a glint in his eye. He walked around the counter and up to Addison’s bar stool. She swung her legs around so that she was facing him. He pulled open her legs and stepped in between them. Addison’s butt rested just on the edge of the stool. He lightly traced his fingers along her knee. Addison could see his erection through his thin cotton boxers. “You know what I think?”

  “What do you think?” Addison asked.

  “I think that you aren’t wearing any underwear right now.”

  “That’s a good guess,” Addison replied. Cutler swept her hair away from her neck and kissed below her ear, then teasingly ran his tongue across her skin. Addison reached into his boxers and pulled out his dick, gently running her hand along its base to its tip.

  A cell phone sitting on the countertop rang, and Cutler groaned.

  “Sorry, it’s the prepaid. I have to answer.” Addison smiled, and Cutler walked over to the counter and picked up.

  “Cutler,” he said. He glanced up at Addison, then walked over to the door to his studio. “Go ahead,” Addison heard him say as he closed the door behind him. She swung her legs on the stool as she waited for him to come back. Maybe she could just stay with him, and Owen would get tired of looking for her. And then…who knows? It’s not like she had made any close friends at Vanderbilt anyway. Cutler reentered from the studio with the phone in his hand, frowning.