The Token 4 (New Adult Dark Romance)

by Marata Eros

  The Token

  Volume Four

  Copyright © 2014 Marata Eros

  Kindle Edition

  http://marataeroseroticaauthor.blogspot.com/

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to a legitimate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication:

  Crystal

  You got my back~

  “Love sears the heart immortal

  The embers burnt down to the token which remains ....”

  Music that inspired me:

  A Fuoco

  Ludovico Einaudi

  ~ 1 ~

  Tears cool on my face as Jay tries to move on the floor. The toes of Thorn’s shoes fill my wavering vision.

  A shaky inhale later, I take his hands. He hauls me up, and we face each other.

  I jerk down my ruined dress.

  “Well that sucked balls,” he says.

  A hysterical laugh bubbles from me. “Yeah...” I agree through a fresh wash of tears.

  “Faren…” Thorn says in a warning tone. God, he's a tough bastard.

  Onward and fucking upward.

  “What?” I seethe, moving back a pace.

  Thorn shrugs as Jay moves to his hands and knees, struggling to stand. But Thorn and I only have eyes for each other.

  Orbital hate flows.

  “You had to know that Mick might wonder where you were taking off to—wearing those outfits,” he says.

  Actually, I hadn't given his curiosity much thought. Getting by day to day, paying my mom's debt, and ignoring my short time left had been my concerns.

  They’re still my concerns.

  I sigh, popping my hands onto my hips, the left hand jumping. I let it fall and do its routine. I know from experience it'll be useless for minutes.

  I shake my head and answer Thorn, half-sobbing. “No, I had more important things to worry about than Mick going into stalker mode.”

  He certainly won’t be stalking me anymore.

  I cry harder, his face etched into my memory. The betrayal, the misery, the hate.

  Thorn puts a finger to his lips, swinging his eyeballs to Jay.

  I turn and see the lap, his penis hanging like a pathetic sausage out of his torn fly. I try to feel sympathy for the beating he received at Mick's hands, but Jay used me. He went one step past what we agreed to.

  I’m not feeling compassion right now; I’m not feeling much of anything.

  “Who... the blue fuck was that?” he asks, wiping blood from his mouth.

  Thorn's brows pop as he cocks his head to the right. “Lunatic ex-boyfriend.”

  Oh god. I want to hide.

  “Well he messed me up pretty good.” His only open eye slides to me, assessing my reaction.

  I give a shaky laugh. “Yeah... I didn't know he knew where I was.”

  “I don't want to pay,” Jay says in a flat voice. “That was a finale I didn't need.”

  My stomach falls.

  Mick has let me go in the worst way. The lap that was supposed to be my last, the way to rid my mom of debt, got what he wanted. I hold the wrist of my left hand to stop its shaking.

  “Listen, Jay,” Thorn says in a soothing voice, his hands splayed away from his body, palms out, “it was the fluke of fucking flukes. You wanted the girl—she did her part.”

  Thorn’s eyes flick over my dress, identifying the evidence easily.

  My guts churn.

  Jay crosses his arms, throws his jaw to the side, and spits out a mixture of saliva and blood.

  “If I pay, I want something more. I deserve it after that beat down.”

  Thorn and I look at each other, his eyes saying it doesn't hurt to hear the lap out. After all, it's worth ten thousand dollars.

  I look at the floor and try to breathe. My rage, loss, and frustration boil under my skin like a witch's cauldron.

  “I want a date with Faren.” Jay points his battered jaw up, all defiance. He's combative and determined.

  I'm numb and emotionally bereft.

  My chin sinks, and I look at my toes peeking out of my high-heeled stilettos.

  “Faren.” Thorn's justification whispers against my ear, tickling it. “We're getting off easy... you gotta know that.”

  I think a little better of him for not forcing me, though I know I have no real choice.

  I think of Mick, his sense of betrayal moving through the cracks of my emotional fissure.

  He won't want me no matter what.

  My mom needs this.

  If I go on this date, I still don't ever have to do another lap. I slowly release hope of being with Mick in lieu of saving my mom.

  I take a deep breath and blow it out. Wisps of my undone hair float around my face as my gaze meets Jay's.

  I can't help but gasp at the damage Mick's fists did, Jay's face chewed up by the punishment of knuckles against flesh.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  Jay puts his hands on his hips. “What?” He cups a hand around his ear. I stare at him, too empty to hate him.

  But the part of me that's not dead—does.

  “Yes,” I hiss. My voice sounds like the crack of a whip.

  “Good,” Jay replies. He looks at Thorn. “Then we have a deal. One date with Faren, then I pay.”

  “I'm not going to sleep with you,” I say. They need to know that even if I have to do four weeks of poles, I'm not actually a prostitute.

  Apparently even I have limits; money isn't every damn thing. It's good to know. I had begun to question my own humanity.

  “Only if you want to,” Jay says.

  I open my mouth, but Thorn's hand closes around my elbow, squeezing just shy of pain.

  The sharp retort I plan becomes, “Okay.”

  Jay and Thorn smile. Mine is a grimace.

  No one notices the difference.

  *

  The repaired security panel at my apartment building endures my three fumbling attempts to input my code.

  Finally after the third attempt, the buzzer sounds and I step inside. The dumb Out of Order sign still hangs crookedly vigil from the elevator door. The edges of the torn sign seem to laugh at me as I begin the five-story trek to my apartment.

  I keep moving, one foot after the next, and get to the large metal door at the fifth floor hallway. I thrust my good palm into the bar in the center, and it opens noiselessly.

  I blink.

  My duffle bag full of stripper clothes greets me at my door. I walk to it slowly, as if it contains a ticking bomb. My tears stain the canvas bag as I unzip the top.

  I remember exactly how I put my stuff in there—without care. I just jammed all the crap inside willy nilly.

  My fingers find each crease of the stacked outfits.

  Mick took the time to go through each item, take it out... and return it perfectly.

  I sit back on my ass, legs splayed in front of me, and dump my face into my hands. Somehow, this is the greatest battering of my fragile emotions. It shouldn't matter. I don't have enough time to care.

  But I've been intellectualizing everything
for weeks, and all that careful containment spills into my emotional cup until it overflows. I have no dam to stop the torrent. It pours out the edges of the barricades I've put up to protect myself from thinking.

  From feeling.

  I let my shaky hands fall to my damp dress, wet with my accumulated grief and begin to collect myself off the dirty floor of my apartment hallway.

  I slide out my cell and text Kiki.

  Please come.

  I feel my pride break further with that simple request.

  I’ve stupidly thought I could remain self-contained. That I could leave this blue marble on my own terms.

  But it doesn't work that way. There's a force in play that I didn't consider.

  I wait.

  Then I decide to stop polishing the floor with my butt and haul the duffle inside my apartment.

  The phone chime sounds.

  I'm on my way.

  Air leaves my body as I lean against my closed door. Moments tick by until I finally move toward my bathroom.

  The dress I’m wearing joins the other.

  My wastebasket is full with the discarded remains of dances done for men's lust.

  For money.

  Chunks of my soul gone forever in the name of profit.

  I let the shower rinse my tears down the drain, but the despondency remains like a layer of grime.

  ~ 2 ~

  The tile is cool against my forehead as the hot water runs down my back. I can't get any cleaner.

  I still feel dirty.

  A pounding breaks through my reverie, and I lift my face, feeling my brows scrunch.

  Kiki!

  I jerk the faucet to the left, and the spray cuts off.

  “Just a sec!” I hop out of the deep porcelain tub/shower combo.

  I whip the towel from the hook buried in the cream subway tiles, jog to the door, and tear it open.

  Kiki stands there in a deep gold, skintight breath of cloth that literally just covers her nipples. It moves down her torso to a tight, knotted twist at her belly button and flares at her hips, ending at the junction of her thighs and hoohah.

  God, and I think my stuff is skimpy. My outfits don’t hold a candle to what Kiki's outfit says.

  In a word: sex.

  Kiki breezes in, checks out my dripping self, and says, “Okay.” She slaps her cell in her open palm.

  “I know it's ground-shattering if you're asking for help.”

  I huff, giving her the look and closing the door. “I'm not that bad.”

  She stares at me hard enough to make me squirm. “You suck it up, Faren, it's what ya do. Remember when Ronnie did your hand... the rest of you?”

  I remember perfectly.

  Her words are harsh, her eyes expectant.

  Yeah…” I tighten my towel with a shiver that’s only partly from chill.

  “I asked to help you then—begged. You said you didn't need anything. It was Faren going to the accelerated physical therapy school, Faren visiting her mom and going home—the whole circle of No Life again.” Kiki makes a sarcastic twirl with her index finger.

  “I got it,” I say through clenched teeth.

  I hate the truth... but the truth knows me.

  Kiki sits on my couch, and I lower myself opposite her.

  “What happened?” she asks in a hushed voice.

  I tell her. Well, I attempt to tell her. I only break down once.

  She runs around the coffee table.

  “Oh my God, Faren!”

  She crashes next to me and pulls me against her, stroking my wet head. “We'll get you through this.”

  I shake my head, pulling away. “No, we can't. Remember?”

  Dark eyes look back at me. “How can I forget?”

  My hands clamp together and wring into knots on my lap.

  “What can I do?”

  Kiki sighs explosively. “You fight, Faren.”

  My head rises, eyes locking with hers. “What? No—“

  “Hell yes!” Kiki’s eyes glitter with intent.

  Absolution.

  “I can't.” I wipe my eyes with my hand. “I've blown it! I mean—damn—Mick came in with my naked ass in the air, covered in... ugh!”

  She strokes my back.

  “It's beyond disgusting,” I wail.

  “Hmmm... He's not the only guy who owns his own vault of cum, y'know.”

  I put my face in my hands. So not funny.

  “Okay... it is pretty gross,” she says. “But you were nailing it for your mom, right?”

  I nod miserably.

  She lifts my chin and I randomly notice her apricot glitter gloss. “He bothered to follow you—or have you followed.” She looks at the ceiling momentarily, thinking. “There's strong emotion there.”

  “I only get the money if I date Jay.”

  Her eyes bulge. “A lap?!” Kiki squeaks.

  I hold up my finger. “Just once.”

  “Once is too damn much.”

  “I know, but he was pissed because he’d gotten his ass kicked by Mick.”

  Kiki laughs, and I glare at her.

  She bobs her head. “I know, it's not really funny, but somehow... it is.”

  She puts up a palm to stave off my scathing rebuttal. “You’re working a lap, doing the nastiest extra I've ever heard of without actual...”—she moves her hips back and forth in a parody of humping—“and the guy you don't want to be your boyfriend does the most boyfriend thing of all and cleans the dude's clock.”

  Her brows rise. “I have to say, I like it.”

  “What are you saying? Because I think you just went down an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole.” I cross my arms and my towel slips, so I hike it back up.

  “What I'm saying is, tick off the Bennies with Mick our man.” She throws up her hand.

  “He's rich.”

  Her eyebrows pop.

  “Duh,” I say.

  Her brows go impossibly higher. “He's rich.”

  “You said that.”

  “Bears repeating, baby.”

  I roll my eyes, and she thwacks me with her palm.

  “Hey!” I say.

  Her eyes narrow. “He hired someone to clean your entire apartment when you were getting the tongue treatment.” She sticks out her tongue to emphasize her point.

  Oh god.

  I shouldn't have said anything. But some things are just too amazing not to share.

  “God, girl, are you embarrassed?”

  I put both palms to my hot cheeks.

  “Don't be—that's a precursor to the big one,” she says.

  I give her a sharp look.

  “I'm not... I am not telling you how big Mick's dick is!”

  Kiki laughs. “Feel better?”

  I think about it. I give her a crooked smile. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Kiki leans forward. “Get dressed. We're gonna come up with a plan.”

  “No.” I’m instantly back to fighting tears. “It's too humiliating.”

  Her gaze bores into me. “What is? Going after what you want for once? What you want from Mick?”

  “I want him to be my first.”

  “And last...?”

  I nod.

  “I'm sorry. I know that's harsh, but you told me...”

  “Months,” I finish for her.

  Kiki nods. “Yeah, so if he's going to be your one and only, and you've set your sights on him, why let him get away because of a misunderstanding?”

  A misunderstanding.

  “He punched Thorn.”

  She smiles. “That's okay. Thorn can take care of himself.”

  “There's that assault charge against Mick.”

  Kiki waves. “It's trumped up. He never even poked the kitty—tonguing doesn't count. And that dipshit Taggy, Taggert...”

  I stifle a giggle. “Tagger.”

  “Tagger! That assclown should have been the one arrested since he interrupted what could have been an expert deflowering.” Kiki looks thoughtful
, and more than a giggle erupts from me. More like a guffaw.

  She grins. “See? You just have to toss the pride and talk to Mick.”

  “He'll hate me.”

  How can he not? I kinda hate me.

  She shakes her head. “I'm thinking he wants to fuck you more.”

  “Kiki—”

  “Tell me I'm wrong.”

  I can't.

  “What do you have to lose... except that pesky cherry! Maybe, just maybe, when you tell him the entire truth”—she lifts her shoulders, her eyes widening—, “he'll see the entire mess you're in and give you H.E.L.P.”

  My eyes slim down at her.

  “In the form of what?” Even I hear the suspicion in my tone.

  Kiki shrugs innocently, her eyes sliding away from mine. “I think... it could be more than a milestone hump.”

  “Kiki!”

  “Okay, I know I'm a little ridiculous, but hear me out. After all, I know something about maneuvering.”

  I look at her, not a hair out of place, and have to agree. She's my rock because she is a rock.

  Kiki is sharp, astute, and my true friend.

  “I know you don't want to use him use him,” she says. “But there comes a time when, and if, he knows the whole truth… that doing you might be only part of the fun.”

  “I don't want his money.”

  “Pfftt, I do!” Her eyes drill me. “Don't have a rack attack. Just be open to what he offers. It could be more.”

  “Live short, live deep?” I say.

  Our eyes lock as Kiki takes my hands. I clamp my armpits on the top of my damp towel.

  “It might mean something for Tannin's situation. Her long-term situation,” she says.

  I can't argue with that. But mooching off Mick is not my real agenda. Not to mention it would make me feel like shit.

  She squeezes my knee. “Now about this lap...”

  “Jay.”

  “What do you have to do with him?”

  “I don't know, but I want to resolve this with Mick first. I need the money that Jay hasn't paid. I don't want to date him at all!”

  “Gotcha. But ten K rides on this, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, contact Jay and get the lead out. Date his conniving ass—one time—then get over to Mick's. Text Jay now. Get it the fuck over with.” Kiki tosses her hair behind her shoulder, her expectant expression on me like white on rice.