And then he was gone, weaving through the crowd and out the front door. I slid into the booth beside Claire, who scooted over to make room for me.
"Hi," I said. "Hope you don't mind me crashing with you guys for a bit."
Claire quirked an eyebrow at me. "Of course we mind. We're a very snobby and exclusive clique, and you're just not our type, so go away."
I eyed her, trying to decide if she was kidding. "I can sit somewhere else."
Claire burst out laughing, elbowing me in the ribs. "I'm kidding. Jesus." Her eyes raked over me. "You need a drink."
"I do?"
She stood up on the bench, twisting around to face the service bar. "LUCIAN!" Claire howled. "I NEED A ROCKS GLASS!"
Without missing a beat or even looking up, Lucian snagged a rocks glass, wiggled it in the air, and tossed it to Claire, who caught it and slid back down to her seat.
Claire poured a measure of whiskey into the glass and handed it to me. "You drink whiskey, right?"
I blinked at her. "Um, no?"
"Well, you do now. Drink up, hooker!" Claire raised her own glass and clinked it against mine.
"Hooker?" I asked, sniffing the whiskey. "Why am I a hooker?"
Mara tapped her glass of water against my glass. "It's Claire's favorite term of endearment. It means you're in the cool girls club. If she doesn't insult you, she doesn't like you. If she calls you a hooker and makes fun of you, it means she likes you and has accepted you as her friend."
"Oh."
Dru clinked me next. "Take a drink so you can spill about Bax."
I took a fortifying breath and then sipped at the whiskey gingerly. It burned in my mouth, and burned going down my throat, and burned in my stomach. "Oh my gosh. That's horrible!" I said, coughing and hissing.
Claire stared at me. "Gosh? Did you just...did you just say oh my gosh?"
I ducked my head and shrugged. "Yes?"
"Dude. Not okay. You're not six, and none of us are nuns." She lifted her glass to her mouth and threw back a huge gulp. "And you gotta slam it. Big gulps." She grinned at me. "You like to take big ol' swallows, don't you?"
I felt a blush creep over my face. "I...um..."
Mara laughed. "Take it easy on her, Claire, she's new. And she's obviously uncomfortable with your vulgarity."
"Yeah, I can tell. Little miss Eva is rather proper," Claire said, faking an arch British accent for the last word. She took the sting out of her words with a grin and an elbow to my ribs. "We can fix that real quick, can't we girls?"
"I'm not proper," I said. "I'm just..." All three women just stared at me. "Okay, fine. I'm proper. It's just the way I was raised."
Dru snickered. "Hang with us long enough and you'll forget all that bullshit."
"Baxter is already making inroads on that, I believe," I said. "He seems to take a sort of perverse pride in corrupting me, I think."
Claire snorted. "I'll bet he's making inroads. Big, long, hard inroads."
I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me. "You're ridiculous," I said.
She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "You didn't deny it, though, I notice."
"Deny what?"
"That you're taking Baxter's inroads." She leaned close to me and stage whispered. "By which I mean his dick."
I blinked at her. "Um. We...he and I--I mean." I sank lower in the booth, staring at my whiskey rather than the girls and their eager anticipation. "No, I'm not denying it."
Claire howled in laughter. "HOLY SHIT! She admits it!"
"Well obviously she and Bax are fucking," Dru said. "We all saw him honk her ass. He wouldn't honk the ass of a woman he's not fucking."
"He didn't...it wasn't a honk," I argued. "It was just a little...squeeze."
Claire reached out and gave my breast a slow, gentle squeeze. "That's a little squeeze." Before I could react to or even process the first time, she gave my breast a quick, rough squeeze. "That is a honk. He totally honked your ass."
Mara sniggered. "And by honked her ass you mean..." She finished the insinuation with a suggestive grin and a wiggle of her eyebrows
Claire choked, trying not to spew whiskey everywhere. "Might be a little soon for anal, even for Baxter, Mara. Little Miss Prim and Proper here probably doesn't go for that shit anyway."
"I'm not prim and proper!" I snapped. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And no, we didn't do...that."
"If you're not prim and proper, then you'd say you didn't let him fuck you in the ass," Claire noted. "Which isn't what you said."
"Fine, I didn't let him fuck me in the ass," I said, keeping my voice pitched low, despite the volume in the bar. "Which I'm not sure is even possible anyway. He's so big I can barely walk as it is. If he did that, I'd..." I shuddered and shook my head aggressively. "No. No way."
"You gotta work up to anal," Claire said, matter of factly. "Start small. Just his pinky finger at first."
It didn't feel real, to be having this conversation with women I barely knew, to be saying these things out loud. It was a rush, though, exhilarating and fun.
"Have you seen the size of his hands?" I demanded.
Claire laughed. "He's a monster, all right. He's got those big ol' football player hands." She leaned into me. "He's a Badd brother, though, and none of them are exactly small, you may have noticed."
"I wouldn't know," I said, adopting a prim tone. "I only just met Baxter, after all."
"Well I meant them as people, not their dicks in particular," Claire said. "Jesus, you are a filthy whore, ain't ya? Plannin' on baggin' more than one of the brothers, huh?"
"No!" I protested. "That's not what I meant!"
Mara shoved my glass into my hands. "Claire has actually probably seen more Badd brother dicks than any of us."
"That was an accident," Claire said.
I took a gulp of the whiskey, and once again it burned all the way down, but now I felt a nice little glow starting in the pit of my stomach. "What was an accident?" I asked.
"Oh, just that Claire has not only obviously gotten up close and personal with Brock's cock, but she's also gotten a nice little gander at Zane's," Mara explained.
"How does that happen by accident? Did you walk in on him in the shower or something?" I took another sip, and didn't even cough afterward.
"If it had been something like that, it would've just been an accidental glance at a soft dick," Mara said. "No, she got the whole shebang, erect and...in situ, as it were."
I stared at Claire. "Um. What?"
Claire rolled her eyes dramatically. "It was an accident. By the time I realized what I was looking at, I was already hooked. I mean, it is a hot as fuck video, Mara. You have to admit that much."
Mara shrugged. "Of course it's hot as fuck video, the point is that it was a private video."
"Well excuse the hell out of me! We used to go in each other's phones all the time. I didn't know things were different." She shot me a look as she clarified for my sake. "Mara and I have been friends for a long time, and we used to be roommates. We'd check out each other's phones all the time, pull pranks and shit, you know, change each other's home screen photo to something stupid or whatever. Right after she and Zane hooked up for the first time, we met for breakfast and when Mara went to go pee, I thought I'd take a stupid selfie and make it her lock screen, like old times. Well. I took a bunch of selfies and then switched over to the photos app to see which one was best. I was swiping through them, and then accidentally swiped too far and this video popped up. It was just this blurry image, so, being curious and not realizing it would be a big deal to her since we used to share that kind of thing with each other anyway, I clicked on it.
"And what do you think I saw? This guy, a super hot guy, by the way--and a giant cock, hard as a rock, all nice and veiny and pink and lubed up. I mean, I'm a horny-ass bitch, so I watched the video. Which was fucking crazy intense, but the way he groaned her name and shit? And then when he came? Jesus! He shot this giant wet load all over himself, and I swear I nearly came
right there in the booth just watching it, and I'd just gotten fucked a dozen ways to Sunday by Brock. Who, I might add, I didn't know was Zane's brother at the time."
"Wow." I squirmed in the bench. "So...wait. You two were both sleeping with Badd brothers at the same time, but you didn't know it?"
"Right. We didn't realize it until later," Mara said.
"When you walked in on me and Brock fucking on our couch." Claire squealed suddenly, pointing at Mara. "Which means you've seen Brock's cock too! We were reverse cowgirl, so there's no way you didn't see at least part of his dick."
Mara rolled her eyes. "I was sick as a dog and not really looking that closely."
"Admit it, bitch! You saw!" Claire shrieked.
"Fine! I saw!" Mara slammed her sparkling water as if wishing it was whiskey instead. "But only part of it, and only for a split second."
"But you saw, which means we're even." She wiggled her index finger at Mara. "So I'm not the only Badd brother dick aficionado in the family."
"I saw, like, a couple inches at most. What I really saw was your stretched-out slut-pussy. Which, for the record, I don't need to see ever again."
Claire cupped her hands over her crotch defensively. "I am not stretched out. My shit is tight as a drum. I may have been a slut, but I kept my shit tight. Kegels, bitch. Do your Kegels and you won't get blown-out roast beef pussy even after taking a monster cock." She shot me a wink and a knowing grin. "Which means you better start doing Kegels if you're gonna keep fucking Baxter. Going by the size of his hands, I'm guessing he's got the biggest cock of all the brothers."
"What are Kegels?" I asked.
"Squeezing your PC muscles," Mara answered. "Like when you're holding your pee?"
"Oh. And doing that..." I hesitated a moment, trying out the exercise as I sat in the booth, "it...um, keeps your girl bits from getting stretched out?"
"Works for me, at least" Claire said. "Or maybe I'm just genetically lucky, and my pussy doesn't stretch out that much." She poured more whiskey for everyone and we all took another shot. "So. On a scale from Ballpark Frank to summer squash, with Johnsonville brats being in the middle, how big is Bax's dick?"
I took a bracing gulp of whiskey. "Um. I feel weird answering that question."
"None of them are shy, and neither are we. You're in the fucking-a-Badd-brother sisterhood now. I'm not saying you're obliged to answer, but it would be in the spirit of the sisterhood to give us at least a hint."
"But you're dating his brother," I argued. "Why would you want to know how big his penis is?"
"Because I'm still a dirty whore at heart, and I'm curious. He's a massive guy, so I'm imagining him having this colossal monster of a cock to match."
I bobbed my head side to side. "He's...proportionate all over, how about I just put it that way."
Claire laughed and clapped her hands. "Lucky you, in that case, because the scale of the man is absolutely absurd." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "You walking okay?"
I bit my lip. "Um. I'm...a little sore."
Dru laughed. "Ohhhhh honey, all of us can sympathize with that."
Mara nodded, joining in the laughter. "You should see us, some mornings. We're all hobbling around, half-crippled from a night of being plundered by a Badd brother cock."
"Especially when it's been a pounding-me-like-a-jackhammer kinda night," Claire said. "Was it a jackhammer kind of night? I know Brock can get a little carried away sometimes, and I suspect it probably runs in the family."
"It was a little bit of everything kind of night." I covered my face with my hands. "God, I can't believe I'm having this conversation!"
Dru eyed me. "What? You don't talk about sex with your girlfriends back home?"
I shrugged. "I mean, they talk, and I usually just listen." I took another drink. The whiskey was starting to go down more easily now, and I was starting to like it, as I got used to the burn. "It's not like I've ever had anything to add anyway."
Dru's gaze was speculative. "You never had anything to add...because you weren't having sex?"
I shrugged, nodded, and kept my gaze averted. "Pretty much."
"You weren't..." Mara paused to gasp dramatically, her eyes wide. "You weren't a virgin were you?"
"No, but..." I toyed with the glass and stared at the table. "I'm not exactly...very experienced."
Claire laughed, clapping her hands. "Oh man, oh man, oh man--you lucky, crazy, ballsy bitch! You go from 'inexperienced'"--she used air quotes, heavily emphasizing the word--"to fucking Baxter Badd? Damn, girl. I mean just...damn."
"It has been rather...eye opening," I admitted. "In a lot of ways."
Mara guffawed. "I bet it has! Eye opening...and pussy opening too, probably!"
"Can we talk about something else, now?" I asked. "My capacity for shockingly blunt and personal conversation is kind of used up at this point."
And just like that, the conversation shifted to more innocuous topics, like which forthcoming movies we were excited to see, and favorite bands, and humorous personal anecdotes. The conversation was always funny, and always vulgar, always filled with jokes and good-natured insults, and the whiskey flowed freely and I ate more greasy fried food than I thought I was capable of, and had more fun than I've ever had with women who felt more like true friends than any of the girls I've known at Yale for three years, some of whom I've also known even longer than that.
I just...clicked with them. Which, in the back of my head and the pit of my heart, set off warning bells.
I ignored them, though, because I was having too much fun.
And then, before I knew it, Baxter was beside me, smelling like sweat and dressed in his fighter trunks and a baggy hoody, with a duffel bag in one hand. "Ready, Eva?"
I stood up, feeling a little wobbly. "Sure am!"
He eyed me, and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the table. "I take it the girls have been introducing you to our boy Jack Daniels, huh?" He took my hand and led me out of the bar through the kitchen door to the truck. "Have fun while I was gone?"
"So much fun! The girls are so great, aaaaaand I like whiskey." I realized, as I walked, that I was actually rather drunk. "Oh boy. I'm a little more unsteady than I thought I was."
"They are pretty great, and so is whiskey." He opened the passenger door for me. "What'd you talk about?"
"Oh, you know...this and that."
He laughed. "Which means they got the goods on us, I'm guessing?"
"Maybe a little of the goods?" Worry blasted through me. "You're not mad are you? I don't normally...I mean..." I sighed. "Ugh. I'm sorry, Baxter. I said I wouldn't talk about us, and I did anyway"
"It's all good, baby. No worries." Hopping into the driver's seat, Baxter shot me a reassuring grin. "I told you I'm fine with you talking about it if you want. Besides, each of those girls is impossible to resist once they decide they want something. And all together? Shit, you didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of keeping the details to yourself."
"Only a little bit of the conversation was about that. And it wasn't just me talking, they were all...rather forthcoming."
The rear passenger door opened, and Zane climbed in. "Hey, Eva. Ready for your first underground fight?"
Once Zane was in, Baxter backed out of the alley and headed for the highway.
"I don't know," I admitted, twisting in the front seat to smile at him. "You're coming too?"
"I'm his second, so to speak," He patted me on the shoulder. "I'll be with you the whole time, so nobody's gonna mess with you."
"Why would anyone mess with me?" I asked.
"Well, it's an illegal fight with illegal betting happening in the middle of nowhere. And, um, are you forgetting how you met Baxter?"
I felt a moment of shock. "Actually, yes, I had. So much has happened since then that I'd sort of blocked it out."
"You blocked it out?" Baxter asked, eyeing me as he drove.
I shrugged. "Yeah. You saved me from anything actually happening." I wink
ed at him. "And you've had me sort of...um...preoccupied." Zane covered a laugh with a cough, and I pivoted to shoot him a look. "I was talking to Mara and Claire, and they shared a pretty interesting story about a certain...video."
He narrowed his eyes at me. "They did, huh?"
"So if you want to laugh at me, I can laugh back."
He chuckled. "I wasn't laughing at you, I was just a little surprised to hear you talking openly about it."
"Yeah, well, between Baxter and the girls, I seem to be doomed to be converted to the rife vulgarity you lot seem to relish so much."
Uncharacteristically for him, Baxter was silent for most of the thirty-minute drive, letting Zane carry the burden of conversation, in which I heard a few stories from Zane's days as a Navy SEAL, and some rather amusing anecdotes about growing up with eight boys in a three-bedroom apartment over a busy bar.
We pulled off the highway onto a narrow two-track road, which wound through the forest. After almost two miles, we started passing cars parked at the edge of a huge field in the middle of the forest, a space about a quarter of a mile wide and the same distance long. There were four huge trucks parked at the corners of a roped-off square, the ropes tied to the brush guards of the mammoth trucks, each of which had oversize knobby tires and LED light bars on their roofs, providing illumination for the makeshift arena.
There were at least five hundred people in attendance, at a rough guess, all milling around the ring. We parked, and Baxter and Zane pushed through the crowd, keeping me between their huge bodies, protecting me from the churn of humanity. There were several tables set up to one side of the ring, from which beer was being sold via several large kegs, frat party style. I also saw bottles of booze, and packs of cigarettes, and several handmade signs offering various strains of marijuana, as well as bags of cocaine and magic mushrooms. There was a long line of port-a-potties along one side of the field, and on the other side, a pair of tents stood in isolation.
Whereas the fight at which I'd first seen Baxter had felt more like an underground industrial rave, this setup felt more like a festival. Except, instead of bands playing music, men were going to beat each other up.
Why was I here, again?
Baxter led the way to the two tents, which as we approached I realized had signs affixed to them, with "Basher" printed on one, and "Juarez" on the other. Two huge, burly men stood to either side of each tent's doorway, and apart from their obvious size and tough, surly demeanor, each man had a gear belt strapped around his waist, equipped with a pistol and mace and other things I couldn't have named, plus earpieces connected to walkie-talkies; their gear made the "SECURITY" logo printed across their chests seem somewhat redundant.
Good Girl Gone Badd Page 17
