by K. Anderson
Chapter Eight
Summer’s parents were much cooler than she had expected they would be when she informed them that they were going to be grandparents. Everyone agreed, even Wilson, that they would work together to make sure that Summer would finish school. She cut back her hours at the store. Wilson helped out financially so it all worked out.
She waited those few days he had asked her to. She was off from the store on a Friday night and asked him if he would take her out so they could talk.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“I want to go to Rowdy’s,” she said.
He didn’t entirely like the idea.
“I want to shoot pool again while I still can. Before I get too big,” she said.
He conceded.
Rowdy’s actually had a good menu. All eyes were on them when the two of them entered the bar. Many of the guys at Rowdy’s had devilish grins. Wilson and Summer took a seat a table with menus.
“I guess I should let you know there’s a rumor going around about me and you,” he said.
“Really,” said Summer teasingly. “Well I guess I should make an honest man of you.”
“Is that so?” he raised his eyebrow with an expression of hope.
“Yes,” she smiled.
Wilson leaned over the table and kissed her. He took her into his hands and kissed her hard. The bar whooped and hollered. Applause broke out. The bartender came over to put cocktail napkins on the table.
“Dinner is on Rowdy’s,” he said.
“Wait a minute,” said Wilson. “What did we do to deserve this?”
The bartender grinned. “Just let us. What can I get you to drink?”
“Give us a couple of waters to begin with,” said Wilson. “Let’s have a basket of chips and salsa.”
The bartender stood at the table grinning.
“And let’s have a little privacy,” said Wilson.
The bartender left the table.
“I am sorry,” said Wilson.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I just wanted to tell you that I am keeping the baby. My parents are supportive.”
“So am I,” he said with excitement.
“I believe that with all my heart,” said Summer.
“Well,” he said pulling something out of his pocket.
It was a diamond ring. Summer’s eyes were as round as the ring.
“I know this is sudden. I know this is whirlwind. But Summer will do me the honor of being my wife?” he asked.
Summer was most definitely overwhelmed. She didn’t want to make the decision of a young girl but a mature woman. She could accept the ring and think some more.
“I think the answer is yes,” she said. “But I want to think about it. How is that?”
“I think that’s smart under the circumstances,” he said with a twinkle in the eye. “Will you let me put the ring on your finger?”
It fit perfectly.
“How did you manage that?” she asked.
“Your mother helped me,” he confessed.
Wilson and Summer had dinner and afterwards as planned, they played pool. Summer actually one. It was a real victory. Wilson was such a softy he would be the type to let her win. But Summer was a good match for him. They were neck and neck with ability and this time Summer won fair and square.
As they wrapped up their game, the door to Rowdy’s opened and in the person who walked in made the place go stone silent. Wilson turned his head. His face grew dark. Summer shivered. Duran.
He boldly walked over to the chalk board and wrote his name down as the challenger.
“You have some nerve,” said Wilson. “And maybe a death-wish.”
“I have news for you both,” said Duran. “I am standing here because the cops let me go.”
“Right,” said Wilson. “You posted bail.”
“Didn’t have to,” said Duran. “So whatever grudge you have against me, you’ll have to let it go.”
“You got a lot more to answer for than just a busted window and slashed tires,” said Wilson.
Summer knew he was talking about the fact Duran chased her through her house.
“Be that as it may, the charges have been dropped,” said Duran triumphantly.
Summer broke her silence.
“My mother and father wouldn’t do that,” she insisted.
“You’re correct,” he gloated. “They did not. Summer did Wilson ever get a chance to tell you about his past? Did he ever get around to tell you why his first wife left him? Now I am up next. You playing or not?”
“Leave,” said Wilson.
“You got some nerve,” said Duran. “Wanting me out for a couple of misdemeanors when you have a rapsheet as long as my arm.”
Duran ignored him and started to rack the balls.
When Wilson took a threatening step forward, the entire bar stood up. Summer’s head swam with confusion. Duran put the pool rack down and left the bar.
Owned by the Bad Boy Outlaw
By: Steamy Reads
Owned by the Bad Boy Outlaw
© SteamyReadsPublishing 2016 – All rights reserved
Published by Steamy Reads4U
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to the seller and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
Chapter 1
With her straw blonde hair waving behind her, Marie Anderson clutched her black binder against her wiry frame as if to shelter herself from the onslaught of cold stares and harsh voices that flew at her as she made her way down the path at Brookfield University. They talked about how she still lived with her mother, and how strange her mother was. They talked about their strict beliefs and their rigid way of life. They talked so much that it was hard to ignore the things that the students, and even the teachers said about her.
She was that girl, the kind that didn’t party with the rest of them and couldn’t go out on Sundays. They all knew she was a virgin, so they called her Virgin Marie. Everyone said it. They gawked at her homemade long gray skirts that went down to her knees, and the way her glasses made her look like an old woman. They laughed at her for being so clumsy, stupid and ugly.
She stayed away from everyone as best as she could. She just hugged her binder to her stomach and tried to ignore the world around her. She didn’t feel comfortable there. There were always prying eyes, but what mattered were her grades.
With nothing but school and church to occupy her time, she was able to maintain a 4.2 GPA, which was higher than any the school had ever seen due to her vast array of extracurricular activities. Her academic prowess was unheard of, but she never learned to relate to anyone. Her peers didn’t understand her, and she didn’t understand them. They were all from different worlds.
It was a cold winter morning, with ice and salt covering the pavement. The school was one of the few places in the city that could afford the expense of using salt on the pavement. They didn’t care that the salt degraded the sidewalk. They knew that lawsuits were more expensive.
It was the kind of pl
ace that catered to its students. They passed people that never should’ve gotten ahead. Idiots graduated every day when they could do little more than read simple sentences. It was the hunger for money that kept the school going, and as far as Marie was concerned it was greed and avarice that fueled the entire planet. There was greed for flesh, greed for wealth and greed for violence.
She saw the demon lust in every man that passed her, and the jealousy in women’s eyes. She saw the carnal passion that moved through lovers, like hellfire engulfing them in flames. They knew better, every last one of them knew what they were doing, but they were all driven by their flesh. It was just like Mama said.
Marie sat down under her favorite tree and reached into the tiny hemp purse at her side. She pulled out a tiny plastic tube with a red lid. This was where she found her comfort and escaped the mundane. She opened her binder to a blank piece of newsprint. She closed her eyes and took around in the tube for the right one to call to her. It was there, that tiny piece of burnt carbon that opened a door to another world.
Through her charcoal drawings could shape beautiful flowers and faces. She could create forests and waterfalls, or massive structures. She felt like she was creating life, and that that life was whatever she wanted it to be rather than the harsh reality around her.
When the sun started to set, she started to make her way up the sidewalk towards the tiny neighborhood streets that would take her home. Her mother would want her to help with dinner so she decided to pick up the pace. The houses that surrounded hers on Gary Lane were all tailored and perfect with short green lawns and little flowers in front, but they were sterile. They didn’t look like they were lived in. They simply looked like they were maintained. The flower beds had never grown food. The lawn didn’t have the little path leading through the grass, or the little homemade wreath on the door with the blue and white fake roses. They never painted their house, the paint was chipping, but her house was whitewashed every two years. Nobody care about those kinds of things anymore.
She opened the door softly, so as not to disturb her mother. She walked through the quiet parlor, with its antique wooden couches and kerosene lamps to the living room, where her mother was sitting in the dark and quietly.
“Ow, child you scared me.” She looked down to see that her mother had pricked her finger. She was wiry, like her daughter, but her hair was auburn and always kept in a tight bun.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she set her bag near the hard couch and walked over.
“So,” Phyllis began, “how was school?”
“Alright. I aced a calculus exam.”
“Have you been able to avoid temptation?” The woman’s straight-lipped face slapped Marie with an accusatory glare.
Marie was filled with embarrassment. She looked away and said, “Yes, mama.”
“Only liars avoid their mother’s eyes.” Her mother put down her sewing and stood up to walk past her. “You’re not a liar, are you, Marie?” She got out a sterile dishrag from the sink and started scrubbing a spot off of the counter.
“No, Mama,” she had a confident voice and an innocent smile.
“If you lie to me, child, He will know.” Her mother’s soft voice was stern and determined. Her oratory manner was a constant staple in their house, especially after Marie’s father died when she was 9.
The house lost its vitality when Herman died. Now it was nothing more than quiet sewing and dark rooms. There was dust gathering in the parlor, and he mother became more and more insistent about the way things should be. She was strict, but she knew the way the world was, better than Marie knew her own body, and she was protecting her daughter.
Phyllis turned around as Marie looked longingly at the chair behind her. It had been a hard day. The woman opened the refrigerator to assess the situation. ‘We’ll need some eggs and some butter. I don’t want the expensive kind—get spread.”
“Yes, Mama.” Her mother reached into the little Mason jar at the top of the refrigerator and pulled out a five dollar bill. “Get nothing else, now. I’m making chicken and potatoes tonight, but we’ll need the rest tomorrow.” She handed the crisp bill to her daughter, along with the whistle on the top of the fridge. “You take your whistle and you use it if you have any trouble.”
“Yes, Mama.” Marie made her way out into the dark night.
* * * * *
Phyllis hummed softly to the sound of her favorite choir on her tiny record player. It had been her mother’s. June had never needed to have the firm hand of a father the way that she did. She couldn’t think about that. She felt the familiar stabbing feeling in her gut and she double over—nearly collapsing onto the cutting board where she had been cutting the chicken leg quarters.
He had been so strong. He could’ve held them up in a way that she never could’ve. He could’ve guided Marie. She felt like she was constantly trying to hold onto what little control she had. Women are flawed, Phyllis knew that. They didn’t have the strength that men have, and only a man can instruct a young woman in the true ways of chastity.
Phyllis knew that one day it would happen. Marie would find a man who wanted to lead her away from home, but in this world, with the way that things were, she could never be sure that her daughter would remain pure. Temptation was always around the corner, and she had to fight righteously to be sure that her daughter wasn’t getting caught up in it.
Chapter 2
Marie didn’t like walking at night, when the demons of liquor and smoke made their way through the streets. She saw the boys in their twisted caps and tight shirts swaggering around the streets. She knew these creatures; so intrinsically intertwined in their animal desires, they could hardly see. Their lives were made up of the constant pursuit of pleasure, so much so that they couldn’t hold on to money, or oftentimes even a place to stay.
They stole form girls like her, and as she made her way up to the store, she kept her eyes straight, trying to avoid the gaze of the men that walked past her. Some looked, a pale man with a thin face and a jersey stared as he stood against the corner of a building.
“Hey, babe,” he walked closer to her and she jumped. No cars were coming so she ran across the street and he stood at the curb laughing. She was frantically running. She didn’t even see him stop. But she did here him cry out, “I just wanted a taste of that pretty little thing!”
The General Market was less than a block away and she got there as fast as she could. It was rush hour so the place was crowded with people getting dinner before they headed home. She got a shopping cart near the door and ran in so she could get what little she had to buy. She ran to the back, snatched it up and turned around and bumped into Lucifer.
He had on a pristine white shirt with dark hair parted down the middle and a black jacket made form cow’s skin. His pant—she couldn’t think about those. She darted to the right to get by and he darted to the right. She moved to the left and so did she. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” She went to move past him and he blocked her with his round lips so close to her face—hellfire was burning in her stomach. His breath was fuel to the flames.
“Virgin Marie, his cocky grin spelled danger. “How about I come see you sometime, huh?” He put his hand in his pockets and thrust his pelvis forward.
She was shivering and shaking all at once and didn’t miss a single second of it. He was staring at her, with his dark brown eyes, so intently that she felt like he could read her mind. He was an obstruction stuck in the middle of her path to righteousness. “I—
“I’ll see you tonight.” He turned around and walked away. She couldn’t watch. She tried to move her eyes up, to the right or to the left, anything to keep her from looking at him walk away.
I must avoid temptation, she thought. I must avoid temptation.
Over and over she repeated her silent mantra as she made her way to the checkout line. She paid the meager sum and carefully placed the change in her hem purse. She had little control over her thoughts. She was off in a different world, w
here her body could intertwine with another’s and she could capture his breath with her lips. His mouth could linger where it shouldn’t.
I must avoid temptation.
She could be sheltered in those muscular arm where she would be safe and warm. She could feel him inside of her.
I must avoid temptation.
She wondered what it would be like to have a man overtake her completely, finally giving in and letting the dam break. She knew that there was pleasure out there, pleasure she couldn’t even imagine.
She made her way out the door and he was standing there to the right with a cigarette in his hand and the other in his pockets. He was a demon, come to take her away from the path of righteousness with his sheer masculine beauty.
She tried not to look when he grabbed that place and smiled at her. She didn’t want to see that bulge that could move her in ways that she never thought possible. Instead she kept walking and he laughed again, while moved behind her like some infernal phantom.
He got on his bike with his eyes never leaving her form and when the thunderous engine sounded she jumped. He could show her that pleasure, but she couldn’t let him regardless of the liquid dripping down her legs or the pressure building just below the surface. She didn’t want to see the images, the moments of passion pulsing through her mind, but they wouldn’t stop—she couldn’t allow them to stop.
Instead, she just kept walking down the street, trying to keep her eyes open because every single time she did, his cocky smile was staring back at her. What did he mean that he’d see her tonight? That was the scariest part—the biggest thrill.
This was fantasy, and nothing more. He didn’t really want her, the mousy girl that didn’t fit in. She was too strange. She didn’t talk like everyone else. All of her clothes were homemade and her hair didn’t have any color in it. She never wore makeup—he mother forbade it. She was to dress as plainly as possible, and that was why her mother made all of her clothes. She didn’t wear color, like the other girls—vanity was the greatest of all evils. Instead, she wore drab grays, black and whites. She was allowed some color, like pale blues and navy, but what little she did wear only added to the effect. He didn’t want her. If he wanted anything, he wanted to hurt her.
