Fight for You

by Charisse Spiers

  "Surprised?"

  "Slightly."

  "Look, Haddox, dating isn't hard. There is only one thing to remember: get to know her. It doesn't matter how or what you're doing in the process. Ask questions. The only thing a girl cares about is feeling special and knowing that she is of value to a guy for something other than what's between her legs. A guy has so much more power than he thinks. Most are just too stupid to realize it."

  I sit here thinking of what she said, but it isn't easing this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I guess I'll just wing it. That is what it sounds like she's telling me to do anyway. I was thinking it was going to be a cut and dry, do this type thing, but instead she left it open for interpretation.

  "Can I go back to sleep now? It's my off day from classes, but I still have to get up soon and do school work."

  I stand and walk toward the door. "Hey, Haddox."

  I stop and turn to look at her. "Yeah?"

  "Just be yourself, okay? If you do that you have nothing to worry about. Leave the cocky smartass at home for the night and let her see the guy you sometimes let me see."

  I pull the door open and walk out into the living room. That's a scary thing; letting people see the real me. That person is ugly. Alyvia only sees the parts of me I let her see. Only one other person has seen the side of me with no leash. That part of me is dangerous. It's already been proven. I said I was going to give this a shot. There's a deep part of me that wants her in a way I've never wanted a woman. I don't know if it's the monster inside being fucking selfish because she's good or a decent being trying to crawl out, but it's time to put my words into action.

  I walk into her dark room and climb into bed behind her. I wrap my arm over her naked body and pull her into my chest. She's warm and her hair smells like shampoo. The scent I don't know, but it smells clean instead of that sickly sweet shit some girls use. I like it.

  She has one arm bent beneath her pillow, helping to support her head, and the other on top of her mattress. She lays her top hand over mine as she nestles into me. I have no idea why, but I spread my fingers, lightly lacing hers into mine. I haven't held a girl's hand in years. Even then it was platonic and innocent, more of a calming mechanism. This...this is different. It makes me feel funny.

  I'm not sure what to do if anything, so I just lay here. The raging war inside me calms. For once I'm not thinking of anything. The fog in my mind clears. "You're still here," she says in a monotone whisper.

  My brows scrunch. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Because you don't have to be. I get it, Haddox. You don't have to pretend. If you want to revoke everything you said last night, it’s fine. No harm, no foul."

  I swear on my fucking life if I could beat that bastard to a pulp I would and never look back. People like that are a waste of good air. I may be a worthless piece of shit that will burn in hell for what I've done, but even I have standards when it comes to other people. Emotional damage is more hurtful than physical. Bones can heal, but words burn deep and remain even after the ones that threw them aren't.

  I roll on top of her and grab her hands, raising them above her head, and locking them in place. "Piper, I want you to fucking listen to what I have to say, because I'm pissed. I can't promise you romance, roses, and rhymes, because I'm just not fucking wired that way, but I will never leech off of your mind, draining you slowly. You will always have the right to your own mind and thoughts. I don't know the sorry bastard that has done this to you, but know this: if I ever lay eyes on him, he's going to wish he had never met you or regret the day he let you go."

  Her legs wrap around my waist and she pulls my body closer to hers. I rest my lips just outside her ear. "One man's trash is another one's treasure, baby. You're a fucking diamond. You just need to be polished."

  I ram my hard cock into the middle between her legs, wishing like hell I had removed these damn sweatpants before I got in this bed. My voice is angry, because right now I feel it. "Don't you ever forget it, got me?"

  She moans against my ear and as if she knows what I'm thinking she digs her toes beneath the waistband, pushing them over my ass and down my legs. She's flexible and I love it. "Take me. I'm yours."

  I work myself until I'm lined up at her center, just over her pussy. I never free her hands or mine. Instead, I let our bodies do the work. I can already feel that hot warmth coating the head of my dick, driving me wild. "Say it again. Whose fucking pussy is this now? Say it loud enough I can hear you."

  I put some distance between her face and mine. I want to watch her as she says it. I want to see her eyes as her lips expel the words. The tongue is a deceitful muscle and usually the hardest bodily organ to control, but the eyes always reveal someone's true self.

  I'm waiting just inside her, refusing to go any further. Her facial features soften, her eyes relaxing, but boring into mine. "I'm yours, Haddox, whether I'm ready or not." The way she says it is strong, truthful. There is no stammering or nervousness behind it.

  My chest swells. I'm not sure what that means exactly. It's something new. Maybe it's because I'm so fucking mad that a man would disrespect a woman by emotionally abusing her time and time again. I don’t care who you are; abandonment is a form of abuse. I push inside her, completely burying myself inside the goddess of a woman before me. She doesn't even know her own beauty and that's a damn shame, because I've been graced with some beautiful women, but she tops them all.

  I begin to thrust, watching her. She tightens her fingers on the back of my hand, arching her back. I'm not in a hurry. It's a strange change from what I'm used to, but it's as if I can feel it more. She starts tightening around me, making the feeling amplify. I can usually control when I come, but with her it's getting harder, making me feel like a damn high school kid.

  She unwraps her legs from around my waist and lays them flat on the bed, but lifts her pelvis off the mattress to create the right angle to get off. "Are you going to come for me?"

  "Yes. It feels so good."

  "I'll wait for you."

  At the same time she starts to tighten around me, her wetness increases, and she moans quietly as if trying not to make noise, but her face says it all. That beautiful face is a work of art when she comes. She continues to tighten her muscles around me, making it impossible to hold out any longer. “Fuck, baby.” I tighten my hold on her hands as I allow myself to come inside her. I open my mouth and press my lips to hers, extending my tongue from mine, and connecting it with hers, savoring her taste. I close my lips around her bottom lip and lightly suck it between mine. I pull free to look at her, stilling myself inside her.

  A tear falls from the corner of her eye and runs down her cheek. I'm suddenly confused, thinking maybe I hurt her, but we weren't even rough. My confusion is blatantly obvious I'm guessing, because she turns her head quickly, trying to wipe it on the pillow. "Don't hide from me. What's wrong?"

  "It's nothing. My stupid eye waters from time to time. I must have gotten mascara in it. Don't pay me any attention. What did you want to do today or did you have things to do, because that's totally fine too. I have a shit load of things to do for school."

  She's lying. For one thing, she’s not even wearing makeup. I know she's lying by the tone in her voice and the dodging mechanisms she's trying to pull. I'm going to brush it off...for now. I swipe my thumb, tracing the wet line that runs down the side of her face. "Tears don't look good on you. As beautiful as you are, you should have no reason for them. That, I'm going to show you, baby."

  I pull out of her and roll over, pulling my sweats and boxers up my legs. She remains still as if she's thinking of something. I crawl over her, stopping with each arm and leg to the side of her body, almost in a pushup position. "Don't make any plans today. You're coming with me. Today, I'm going to reveal a piece of myself to you. I don't do it often."

  A knock sounds at the apartment door, disrupting us. I stand from the bed and reach out for her hand, helping her up. "Shit. Can you get that while I get d
ressed? It's probably Reese or something. Alyvia said he might stop by this morning."

  "Sure." I walk out of her bedroom and across the floor toward the door, opening it. The first thing I notice is a set of heels. My eyes scan up the long, tan, slender legs until they meet with a familiar set of brown eyes. These eyes don't hold the same softness and innocence of the ones I'm used to; the ones I've come to know over the past several days. These are cold. It takes one to know one.

  "Well, well. What do you we have here? My daughter must really be trying to piss me off now. Let me guess: bartender, baseball player, model. Am I close?"

  She takes a step forward and brushes her index finger across my stomach, triggering something bad inside. "They're always the same," she says lowly as she passes me to walk inside the apartment. Even without the massive hint she dropped I know who she is.

  Now I know where the dark features come from; that exotic look. They look more like sisters at a distant age range than mother and daughter. "Mrs. Morgan, I presume?"

  I hold out my hand in an attempt to be polite, though I don't know why. She doesn't look like the overly hospitable type. Regardless of what I think, I still give each person the benefit of doubt.

  She looks at me as if I'm beneath her. She has no fucking idea how much money I have in the bank. Not everyone looks like a walking jewelry store, covered in designer tags. I was raised like trash. What I lived in wasn't much nicer than a barn, or cleaner for that matter. It may have actually been worse. Comfortable is good enough for me. Plus, I'd rather have fewer eyes on my wallet, allowing me to stay out of the spotlight.

  "Sweetie, you can go now. She's only using you for sex and to retaliate against her father and I. You're just a stand in until Cole comes to his senses. I'm sure you got what you were after." She slowly checks me out. "My daughter never was much of a lady when it came to males. No wonder the prestigious men pass her by without a second look."

  My jaw ticks, feeling as if it's about to break from the pressure. Hearing a parent degrade their child is a hard limit for me. Remaining silent is taking every ounce of strength and control I have. I place my hands in the pockets of my sweats. My cheeks are hot. "I guarantee with every cent I have in the bank, that girl is more of a fucking lady than you have it in you to be on your best day."

  She narrows her eyes at me, waiting for me to back down. Instead, she just fucking challenged me. Even if I had planned to leave Piper after sleeping with her, prior to this moment, I sure as hell am not now. I don't know much about Piper, because I haven't known her long, but now I know exactly why she is so emotionally beaten down, and I haven't even met the prick yet.

  "Mother. What are you doing here?" I look up as Piper walks out of her room. Her mother turns around and the transformation disgusts me.

  The octave in her voice heightens and she opens her arms as she walks toward Piper. She throws her arms around her. "I came to see my daughter, of course. Why else would I be here?"

  Her voice reeks of sarcasm. Piper awkwardly wraps her sleeve-covered hands around her mother, slightly resting them on her back. "You only come when you want something, Mother. Just tell me what it is."

  My mood is not calming from the hurt sound in Piper's voice. I know that sound: heartache. It's the outward confirmation that you feel unloved by the people you want to love you the most. I used to be one of those people until the dark side recruited me, taking away the pain by numbing me. Today I just don't give a damn, but right now, this...is bothering me.

  Her mother breaks free and reaches in her purse. She pulls out a single piece of card stock, handing it to Piper. I stand here as she reads it. "A charity ball? Why do you need me? Wouldn't that hinder your social status?"

  The wretched woman starts to brush her hair off of her shoulders as if she really cares. "Don't be silly. Of course I want you there, your father and I. This is important to your father. You wouldn't want to upset him would you?"

  Satan's spawn has an ulterior motive. I'm just not sure what it is. Piper's eyes zone out as she looks back at her mother; something I haven't seen her do. "No," she says robotically. It's like watching the evil female villain in those Disney princess movies we've heard referenced all our lives. A strong woman turns into a weakling in the presence of someone she fears; the result of being used like a puppet.

  "Can she bring a date?" I interrupt the mostly one-sided conversation.

  The two of them turn to look at me. Piper blinks a few times, refocusing her eyes on me. They start to clear as if she's coming out of hypnosis. Her mother laughs sadistically. "Who, you? Do you even own a tuxedo? This isn't some high school prom. You'll be mingling with some of the most elite people in New York. I don't think so."

  I continue staring into her eyes, holding her attention behind her mother. As if she found another strength, she speaks. "No, Mother. I want him to escort me. If you want me to go, he goes."

  She crosses her arms over her chest, clearly overruled. I want to know what she's planning. She looks between Piper and I before finally turning her nose up in the air. "Fine, he can go, but Piper, you better make sure you bring him up to par. Your family's reputation is at stake. Don't embarrass your father."

  Without another word she storms out of the apartment, leaving us in silence. I take a step toward her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she was coming. She's a pain in the ass, but I have to deal with her. At least until I get out of school and start a career. You can back out if you don't want to go. They're boring unless you're into that sort of thing. I try to avoid them like the plague, but sometimes I have no choice."

  I stop in front of her, pressing my thumb over her lips. "I'm going to escort you, beautiful. There wasn't even a second thought. Put on some workout clothes. There is a place I want to show you, and now I have the perfect excuse." I smirk. "Doesn't every girl have to get in shape for the ball?"

  She smiles against my thumb and once again the fire inside starts to dwindle back to the small, steady flame that's always present. I think this theory is going to take a while to prove...

  I look out the window of the cab, trying to avoid Haddox. I'm still embarrassed from my mother's unannounced appearance at my apartment. She never comes to see me unless she has something she wants that will benefit her. I hate her. She has always put me through hell and doesn't even look back at the damage she causes.

  As pathetic as it sounds, though, every time she shows up I keep hoping that it's different than every other time. Some small part of me longs for her to be genuine just once. I envy those girls that have a good relationship with their mothers. Most people hate that their parents are involved in their lives, always wanting what's best for them, but they haven't lived in my shoes. What I have is worse than an absent parent. What I have is a soulless being pretending to be a mother for society. When we're in front of hundreds of people, she's the greatest mother in the world, but when we're alone she loathes me, because I stand in the way of her youth.

  "Don't let her get to you." That raspy voice that does things to my insides I don't understand pulls me from my thoughts that are steering in the wrong direction. I don't like the palpitations in my chest every time I look at him or hear his voice. The nervous energy radiating through my body like an electric current only confuses me. Both are things I'd like to omit.

  I put on my front and look at him, breathing to even out my voice. "What are you talking about?"

  "It'll be a lot easier to get to know each other if you stop hiding from me. I'm not an expert in that department, but I think it actually requires being truthful."

  I get a sudden, bold rush of anger flow through my veins like a street racer hitting the NOS button. Sometimes he pisses me off with his know-it-all attitude. He wants to dig deep into my life, opening wounds that I stitched up years ago, but he won't unveil anything about himself. Two can play at this game.

  "You want me to bare my heart and soul to you, Haddox? What if I was just fine keeping everything hidden before you came barging into my
world, rocking it on its axis? I don't like baring my secrets, I never have, but for some fucked up reason you can say one thing and make me want to tell you things I've never admitted to anyone, but I'm not outing myself without knowing a piece of you first. You know enough about me already, but I know nothing about you. You don't get to reveal everything I've had buried for as long as I can remember while you get to remain this big question mark. I'm not one of those girls that will fall to my knees and beg for your attention. I don't need it. I've lived for years alone and I can continue to do so just fine. You want me to open up, crack open your Pandora's box and show me what's inside. Until then, I'm just fine laying on my back and spreading my legs for you, remaining a well matched pair of fuck buddies."

  I take a deep breath, feeling lighter than I've felt in a long time. Maybe I keep too much shit bottled up, but that's how I've always been. I let things fester until it explodes like dynamite.

  I look at him, looking back at me. We sit in the back seat of this cab in a heated stare off. What's even more twisted is right now I want him to fuck my brains out. I have no idea what in the hell is wrong with me. I'm angry at him for making me feel vulnerable, but I also want him to touch me, to make me feel like the sexiest woman alive, and to make me feel like I’m his. I'm so confused with all of these different emotions running wild inside. I don't know how to control them. They're spreading like wildfire.

  "Stop the car," he says in a stiff tone.

  "Sir, I can't pull over right now," the driver replies.

  "Pull this fucking car over. We're getting out." He sounds angry, but it's only making me more excited. This cannot be normal. Why do I want his respect and his approval? Why do I give a shit? Furthermore, why do I want to anger him?

  The driver weaves through the congested traffic and pulls to the nearest curbside. Haddox hands him a wad of cash and opens the door, grabbing my hand as he slides off the seat. I follow behind, exiting the car. He looks around as if he's looking to see where we are, familiarizing himself with the surroundings. He starts to walk towards an alley between two smaller buildings, one resembling a warehouse.