Blood and Guts - Left for Dead: A Romantic Suspense

by Gabi Moore

  Chapter 21 - Lorin

  I thought about shouting out after him, but it was no use. I was too upset anyways, and he was already gone. There was nothing left to do at that point but let him go.

  “Crazy how terribly sideways things can go immediately after getting together with someone. One moment you think you’ve really got something, and the next minute, it’s gone.”

  I was stunned, and exhausted.

  The fuck had done its magic, but I suspected that the argument had also done a number on me. I didn’t have any energy left, and there was only one place that I could thing to go.

  Maybe Aden was right. If I go see Ryan, and I let him know that I have something on him, I might be able to shift our power dynamic. I’m not sure what that would accomplish, but it would at least put him on his toes, and give me a leg up on the situation.

  The decision was haphazard, but it was all I had to go off of at the moment. I climbed over the seat out from the back of the SUV. Aden’s cum leaked down my inner thigh, and I smiled to myself. I didn’t particularly enjoy being used, but there was a grim satisfaction knowing what I was about to do.

  I used one man, apparently, and now I was about to go use another.

  I was going to smell like the previous man while the other was believing that he could indulge in me for a power play.

  For just a moment, I allowed myself to imagine Ryan fucking me. I thought about him pushing his own seed into me, and I thought about how terrible that would make Aden feel.

  Then I caught myself.

  Aden’s gone, I reminded myself, trying to make the thought stick.

  I had to banish him from my mind, even as my body tried to banish his DNA.

  Of course, that quick of a turnaround never worked all by itself. I would need something else to push me away from that train wreck of an experience. Time would help, but I was running out. Without much thought beyond that, I turned the key in the ignition.

  I knew the way to Ryan’s Mansion by heart.

  I had traveled there from all points throughout the city. The experiences I had undergone in that place were so intense and formative that I couldn’t ever hope to forget.

  Maybe just strong enough to get rid of a failure, I thought as I drove.

  Nevermind the fact that I knew Ryan had tried to have me killed. That didn’t really matter anyways.

  I had evidence now, and all I needed was to have a minute or two in order to convince him that I had his attention. A police threat would likely do the trick.

  I smiled to myself.

  I’d like to see him beg.

  All of those times he never could be bothered to treat me like I deserved to be treated. Now things are going to be different.

  Pleased as punch, I drove across the bridge into Manhattan. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and blew past a traffic light at an intersection on the far end. The SUV was narrowly missed by another car which was approaching from the left hand side of the vehicle.

  The shock that I wasn’t invincible, and that I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I should have been, hit me. My fingers grasped ahold of the steering wheel, and I braced myself to close in those final blocks.

  Just a few more minutes, I prayed. Just get me to the house.

  I was sure that once I got there, the pieces would have all been put into their correct place. By the time I arrived, I wouldn’t need to do anything else, but be present, and everything else would just take care of itself.

  The final few miles passed without incident.

  The only abrupt experience I had was at the time of final arrival. I hopped the curb a bit while I parked in front of the mansion. I had totally stopped giving a fuck by that point. There was something wicked and nihilistic coming out from inside of me. Some desire to use, and be used — a hope for revenge, or mutually assured destruction.

  I couldn’t parse out exactly what I was looking for, but I knew it was coming quickly.

  When I got to the front door, I entered in the key code to get into the mansion.

  6-6-6-6

  Arrogant fucker, I thought.

  Give someone the key-code, and believe that you’re safe because you had them taken to the forest and left for dead. I laughed to myself as the front door swung open, and I stepped into the empty front room of the Sclari Mansion.

  “You’re a dead man, Ryan,” I said, not caring who was there to hear it.

  Without closing the front door, I made my way to the bar by the fireplace. This whole encounter was either going to be fun, or unpleasant as hell. Either way, I wasn’t going to be sober.

  Good old Ryan got me started easy with a glass left out and an unopened bottle of scotch.

  I was delirious, and drinking was a terrible idea, but that was where my head was at the time. I can’t claim that all of my decisions were this terrible. I have to say that getting hammered after an evening of ex-military speed was one of my poorer choices.

  I wasn’t alone very long before Ryan showed up. He actually came downstairs in his business suit, as though he were about to go into town for a meeting or something.

  “Lorin,” he offered, suavely. “So good to see you. It has been some time, I think.”

  “Don’t bother, Ryan,” I slurred. “There’s no reason for you to lie. I know you tried to get rid of me, and I know you knew I was coming.”

  He smiled, somewhat playfully, walking over toward the seat next to mine. With a grandiose gesture he clapped twice and the fireplace roared to life. I watched the light grow in his eyes. Seeing him again brought back a torrent of memories. I wasn’t able to easily discern one from the other, and the good and the bad swallowed me whole.

  He sensed my confusion, and came over by my side.

  “You know that was just a terrible mistake,” he replied.

  He reseted his hand along my inner thigh, and looked me in the eyes while he lied.

  “I would have killed the men that did that to you myself, but you already took care of that.”

  “Bullshit.”

  He shrugged, as though only slightly offended that I didn’t believe him.

  “Then you’re here to kill me?”

  “Do I look like an assassin to you?” I asked, pouring myself another glass of scotch.

  He leaned over to grab the bottle out from my hands. His hand moved swiftly, and before I knew it, the bottle had already left his hand, and was in flight toward the fireplace. I gasped as the bottle shattered in the bricks, and flames exploded in a bright flash in the room.

  The fire was gone, just as quick, except for some remaining flames which still licked at the bricks around the fireplace. While I was entranced, his hand was already around my neck.

  “Where’s your boy?”

  His voice was cool, and collected, but the grip of his fingers told me that he would rip my throat out if he believed it would save his own life.

  I shook my head from side to side. Both of my hands were prying at his arm, trying to push him away from me. His other hand reached forward, and a finger probed my lips.

  “Not here?”

  He shoved a finger in my mouth and felt the slick surface of my tongue. I didn’t dare oppose him. So quickly, we were falling right back into our old routines of behavior.

  “Good… because I wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good Sub.”

  He pulled his fingers out from my throat pushed them down between the waistband of my pants and my abdomen. Without any need to hesitate, he found my clit. The man needed no road map, and had taken time to study every detail of my body over the last year of our relationship.

  In spite of every positive instinct within myself, my eyes shifted in their perception. Our old routines were strong, and I realized that this is exactly what I had hoped would take place.

  His hand eased up on my throat, and I felt him caress the back of my hair while I choked and found air once again. Before I could speak, he had two fingers inside of me, and my pants down around my ankles.

  �
��I”ll expose you,” I threatened, as soon as I got my voice back, but I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  My mouth was already full of Ryan’s Cock.

  Chapter 22 - Aden

  One of the beautiful things about the city, is that it caters to all manner of depravity and corruption. If you’re looking to get lost, and spend your few dollars at a bar, they will welcome you. It doesn’t matter if it’s only seven o’clock in the morning — alcoholism in New York does not have closing time.

  I hadn’t been to this particular dive before, but it was a decent enough place to start off the rest of my trip to hell. I had given everything in this chase, and I didn’t even have a decent leg to stand on afterward.

  Just proves you should have stayed out of the way, I told myself.

  I shook my head at my own stupidity and made my way to a corner to sit down and collect my thoughts.

  The bartender caught my eye on the way over, so I gave him my order.

  “Three whisky doubles,” I said, my voice cracking.

  I would get far enough on that, and if I nowhere else, I might at least get a decent place to spend the rest of the day. You never could tell with six shots of whisky where you might end up. Of course, after six shots, I’d feel comfy sitting out underneath a bridge.

  The thought actually gave me the chills, and I was grateful that I had some warmth around my body. The corner of the room was next to a classic iron hot water radiator. I actually got to cozy up against the thing while waiting for the drinks to come.

  I should have ordered some food, but I didn’t want whatever greasy slop they had here.

  I missed the deer.

  Some fire roasted venison would have been great right about now. A long bit of hibernation would have been enjoyable. Just about anything would have been preferable to ‘Up Shit Creek’ — wherever I had ended up.

  With a face that knew he was delivering poison, the bartender showed up with the drinks. I dropped a couple of bills on the table. He left the drinks and then disappeared with the money.

  The first shot reminded me how poor of an idea it had been to come here. The whisky was a well shot, and was still expensive as hell.

  Fucking cities…

  You couldn’t even get a decent thing to drink around here without paying out the nose for it. I sobered up in my emotional state just enough to realize that I wasn’t in any better of a position than the other homeless men of New York in the winter time.

  Of course, that wasn’t entirely true.

  I had a firearm, and some MREs. Fucking hell, I could just eat some goddamn meth and hitch my way down to Florida or something. Get out of this fucking cold. Put my legs up for a while and relax.

  Maybe I could get some work on a fishing boat, or go into private securities in another country. I still had a future ahead of me, and the people I cared about were hidden away from sight.

  “You could make a run for it,” I told the second shot of whisky before throwing it back into my mouth.

  It was true.

  I didn’t even need to go down to Florida in order to get lost overseas. New York City had a harbor just as good as anyone else. Granted, only freight ships would be traveling this time of year; anywhere I wanted to go, at least.

  The oceans were unpleasant for winter fishermen this far north.

  My mind bounced around, not really liking the idea of spending the next three months in a damp cell, smelling like fish and fighting off pneumonia.

  I had done something like that before, and it took a severe toll on my health.

  Once more my thoughts returned to the cabin I had set on fire.

  “A fucking mistake,” I said after my third shot went down.

  The next double shot came and went without incident. I felt the warm flush of the whisky fill up my stomach. The benefit of not drinking for a while, and then starting again, is that you almost get to start over.

  Almost.

  I think with most alcoholics there is always an inevitable sense that you are returning back into the company of an old friend. The rest of the world might have let you down again, but at least you have fucking shitty well whisky to get your back.

  I let a bitter laugh out of my mouth. The joke was on me, as usual.

  My laughter drew the attention of a woman at the counter. She lifted a brow in my direction, but I ignored her. Anyone who is in the bar at 7 in the morning has more problems than should be shared with anyone else in the bar at 7 in the morning.

  Her attention did make me think about the fact that I had just had the benefit of giving a shit about a woman again — even if it had only been momentary.

  The fact that I still had the ability to express compassion and attentive care toward another human in this world was a special thing.

  I thought about the last interaction I had with Lorin, as well as every interaction I could keep track of over the last several days. There had been plenty to choose from. By all rights, she had been a right pill for most of it. She hadn’t told the truth about her involvement with Sclari. She also hasn't come clean to the fact that she had something to gain by the continuation of whatever CONTEK had been working on before he got rid of her.

  Still, the realization of the way that she had taken care of me when I had been injured stuck in my mind.

  I couldn’t shake the idea that I had actually not given her as much credit as she deserved.

  I hadn’t been completely transparent with her, and so why should I have expected her to do the same?

  These thoughts, and others, ended up pushing me down the road of immediate reconsideration.

  Surely, if I just stopped by to see if she needed some help — then my conscience could be clear. Afterward, if I still wanted to go to Florida, or whatever the fuck I thought was going to be a useful way of spending my time — I was free to do so.

  I didn’t bother seeing the bartender about any change.

  The tip was more than enough, and I didn’t care to bother about anything except what needed to be taken care of in that minute.

  I needed to get over to Millionaire Row. Then, if I found resolution, and felt like I could walk away with my conscience clear — then I could relax, and really let things be as they were.

  “One more time, Aden…” I spat on the street while I headed to the bus stop. “Give a fuck just one more time…”

  Chapter 23 - Lorin

  Of course Aden came into my mind. I don’t know how I could have been thinking about anybody else but him.

  When Ryan grabbed the back of my skull by the roots of my hair, I remembered. I felt those same nerve endings go off, and instead of associating that thrill with Ryan’s history of abuse, I thought about Aden’s kindness.

  When I felt the raw pressure of Ryan’s cock against the back of my throat, I thought about the last cock that had been between my lips. I thought about how much more I had enjoyed that experience. In contrast with whatever sub-standard experience was going on between Ryan and myself. I remembered the desire I had — real, authentic desire to suck Aden off.

  Whatever Ryan was offering at the moment was little more than crass and sloppy, in comparison. When Ryan fucked me, I at least felt like he meant it. You didn’t have to fuck somebody with a heart full of compassion and kindness all of the time. If you wanted to be rough, there was a way for that to be enjoyable. There was nothing that Ryan was doing that was ‘overtly’ enjoyable. He would do just enough to keep me wet, but that was the sum of it. Besides everything else, there was toxicity present in his touch that was unnerving.

  The problem with all of these realizations is that I was painfully slow at coming to terms with those pieces of information.

  Ryan had me sucking his balls while he laid his cock over the middle of my forehead.

  Then, he had me sprawled out on all fours while he finger fucked my ass and cunt at the same time.

  Then he would pound into my cunt while holding me down with one hand and looking into my eyes with that long-
standing, dominant expression of his.

  The positions changed, and the moments blurred into the next.

  By the time I realized that I was too drunk to be fucking, my head was up against the fireplace. My cheek was pressed against the hot marble stone of the grating, and Ryan was busy taking a close look at my asshole.

  “You naughty woman…” he said, scratching at my ass cheek with his fingernail.

  “I didn’t cum yet… and you didn’t tell me you were close with him.”

  He slapped me in the ass, pushing my head closer to the flames of the fireplace.

  Something inside of me wanted to fight back, but I was scared.

  I know it sounds ridiculous, but my body was tired, and when he fucked me, it felt good enough.

  Flags of danger flared off in my mind once again, only to be brushed away by another round of sexual stimulation.

  He kept me in this state, nearly orgasming, but not quite there for the better part of an hour.

  I couldn’t have kept track of time myself, but I had a solid enough idea afterward. I used to measure the hours Ryan played with me by the bruises left on my body.

  I thought nothing. I couldn’t respond any longer.

  Ryan could take any part of me that he wanted. I was an addict for stimulation. I was a sloppy mess, looking only to be fed more attention, stimulation, and cock.

  Ryan indulged his assent of power so thoroughly, that he didn’t even notice that he had broken his own rule.

  Sclari’s Rules for Dominant Aggressive Sexuality:

  Ryan informed me when we first outlined the parameters of our contract that there was only one rule he would obey. In contrast, I would have more than I could count. Even in the outset of the arrangement, he was doing everything possible to reinforce the power dynamic between the two of us.

  “Never, ever get invested,” he said, simply, while grinning at me over the desk in his study.

  I still remember the way the black obsidian desk had reflected his face as he spoke. I reached his hand across that reflective abyss, and stroked my hand like he already possessed me.