DirtyInterludes

by Jodie Becker

  “Let me.”

  Max eased his hand away and hissed as pleasure spiraled down his cock, following in the wake of Bridget’s hand. The condom settled at the base and she straddled him. He moaned at the feel of her wet heat. Damn it felt so good. His eyes rolled and goose bumps rose on his flesh. He slid fingers up her sides as she rode him. The muscles in his legs gave out at the pure pleasure of being inside her. The sound of their fucking filled the semi-darkness. Her skin glowed from the firelight and he cupped a breast, flicking his tongue over the tight nipple. Bridget cried out, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck.

  “Oh Max, fuck me.”

  Desire marched down his spine at her words. He’d never heard her say such things and it turned him on. She was in the moment as much as he, her nails biting into his flesh. Her undulations grew frantic, a whimper leaving her. Max tightened his grip on her and timed their thrusts. Flesh slapped against flesh and Bridget screamed, her body bowing as she came. Her vagina tightened over him and Max shuddered as pure heavenly bliss shook him. Everything fell away and he existed only as a being swallowed by intense need. He exploded in a blaze of light and groaned as he came down from the orgasm. Bridget leaned against him, her shoulders trembling.

  His cock bobbed and he shifted, frowning at the weird sensation along his shaft. Suddenly it hit him. The ripple wasn’t Bridget, but something foreign brushing against him. The condom. A chill ran down his spine and killed his ardor. Shit. The damage was done. He swallowed hard. Last time he’d tested clean, but since then he’d had partners—granted, with a condom, but nothing was foolproof. He pushed her back, easing his cock from her. He tried to keep his features neutral, even as panic ate at his control.

  Bridget brushed hair from her face and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. “I think it broke.”

  She blinked at him, then her hand slapped over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  He nodded grimly.

  She scrambled off him, pulling on her clothes as if doing so would undo what had just happened. Max grimaced and pulled the condom off, careful to keep it in its current state. He held it up to the light. The tear was near the base, his semen still caught at the tip. “It’s okay. I think…I think it’s still in there.”

  Hand to her forehead, her eyes narrowed. The tension spilled out in one heavy exhalation. “I can’t get pregnant right now.”

  Her words, so haphazardly thrown out there, stung, and Max was unsettled by how it affected him. He knew the sensation of a condom breaking and always stopped. Always. The condom didn’t break fully and escaped his notice, but still, to put her at risk for STDs was uncool. He stood, pulling on his jeans.

  He wrapped her in his arms, holding the anxiety at bay. “We’ll deal with whatever comes our way.”

  She nodded into his chest and Max tightened his grip. Ice stabbed through his heart at the thought that it was his own actions that put her at risk.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bridget woke sometime around noon, daylight slanting through the window and into her face. She rolled over, half expecting to find Max beside her, but found the bed empty. Instead, on his pillow was a small bouquet and attached to it was a note. She pulled out the yellow card and read the content.

  Gone to see Bryce. Don’t worry about what happened. We can face anything together. Have my cell, call me if you need me.

  Love, Max.

  She picked up the bouquet and smelled the roses. It was so clichéd, but it warmed her heart. Last night they’d spent in quiet silence. Their relationship was new and already had suffered more than its fair share of dramas. The only thing that reassured her was the gentle sweep of his hands along her arms and the way he’d occasionally kiss her forehead. He acted as if he couldn’t stand not to touch her. Surely that was a good thing, wasn’t it?

  While she worried for the vast change one mistake could make to her life, she was also strangely calmed by it. A life. A possibility. It was rash and silly, but nothing with Max had ever been by the book. They started out hating each other and now… Now she thought she might love him. He showed an interest in her music and cared for her when she received that horrible package. She’d wanted to confront Gillian for the things she’d done, but Max convinced her to err on the side of caution.

  She wandered out of the room in search of a vase. She found a heavy glass container that looked a bit like a fishbowl. Putting the flowers in, she arranged them so they sat prettily. Settling on the lounge, she tapped her fingers on the armrest. Max didn’t want her to leave the house by herself after the dead-cat incident.

  Shuffling through her bag she latched on to her cell. She dialed a number and after a couple of rings a familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Cathy.”

  “Where have you been? I swung by your house the other day and you weren’t home.”

  Bridget rubbed her forehead. “I had a bit of a scare and had to go to the police.”

  Tense silence stretched over the line. “You went to the police? About what?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m okay. Someone sent a dead cat to me and told me to watch my back.”

  “A dead cat?”

  “Yes.” Even thinking about it made her stomach turn.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m okay, really.”

  “I don’t care. You were there for me when I needed it. I want to be there for you now.”

  Bridget smiled. “You’re the best. I’m staying with Max.”

  “You’re staying with Max,” she repeated, dumbfounded.

  “I know it sounds weird, but he insisted. Come over, Max is out and I don’t want to be alone.”

  “All right. I’ll see you in a few.”

  Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. She opened it and, ignoring Cathy’s wary disposition, gave her a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”

  Cathy stepped beyond the threshold, her features befuddled. Bridget waved Cathy farther into the house. “Come on, Cathy, I’ll make us some coffee.”

  She walked around the island and pulled out the coffee, setting the boiler on. Cathy stood within the kitchen, a glaze of disbelief in her eyes. “You’re making yourself at home, aren’t you?”

  Bridget shrugged. “Max and I thought it was best if I move in here for a bit until we sort out this business with whoever sent the cat and slashed my tires.”

  The water boiled and she poured two cups of coffee. After adding a drop of milk she handed one to Cathy. “I’m not liking this idea of you staying with Max. You should’ve called me up the minute you got that package.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Max was with me.”

  “He was with you?”

  Bridget slid her coffee back onto the counter. “Yes. He was very sweet about it all. Protective.”

  Cathy waved a hand. “Wait, wait, back it up a sec. Max was with you? When you got this package?”

  Bridget frowned. “Yes.”

  “When were you going to tell me you were sleeping with him?”

  Guilt twisted inside at the look of betrayal on Cathy’s face. “I didn’t want to burden you with my news when you were struggling with your relationship. It seemed kind of rude.”

  Cathy’s lower lip trembled and concern ballooned in Bridget’s chest.

  “Cathy, what is it?”

  “He is going to leave me.”

  After over a year of friendship, Bridget only now just realized how focused Cathy was on herself. How her moods swung on a dime. Still, she stepped forward and rubbed her friend’s arm. “Perhaps it’s for the best? He has done nothing but make you miserable.”

  Cathy’s dark eyes flashed with rage. “What do you know? You’re the reason he’s leaving!”

  Confusion and a frisson of fear sliced through her. “What?”

  Cathy snatched at her wrist before she could withdraw it, the grip incredibly tight. Bones compressed and Bridget bit back a cry of pain as Cathy
jerked her closer. “You. Are. The reason. Slut.”

  Pain seared across her cheek, light flashing as Cathy slapped her. Ears ringing, Bridget blinked against the white dots swirling through her vision. “Cathy, what are you talking about?” she asked, her voice pitchy with panic.

  Cathy stared at her as if she were nothing bigger than a gnat and equally as annoying. “Who do you think I was talking about? We were having problems and you had to wave your little ass and he panted like the dog he is.”

  Bridget swallowed back the bile in the back of her throat, the crazed glimmer in Cathy’s eyes sent ice trickling down her spine. Slowly she edged her free hand toward the cup of coffee on the edge of the counter. “What do you mean? I’d never seen you around him before. You never told me you dated him. You said his name was Mitch.”

  Cathy rolled her eyes. “His real name is Mitch.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “It is.”

  Bridget winced as spittle hit her cheek. “Okay,” she said with false calm. “It’s Mitch. I didn’t know.”

  Her fingers latched on to the mug and Bridget hurled the contents in Cathy’s face. The woman screamed, hands slapping over her face. Bridget ran for the door, air burning her lungs. Agony seared along her scalp and Bridget screamed as she was jerked back by her hair. Her backside hit the hard tiles and pain shot up her spine. Crying out against the pain, she latched on to Cathy’s wrist, trying to find release. Cathy pulled and Bridget scrambled backward along her butt. Bridget screamed at the top of her lungs only to have her hair pulled harder. Tears burst behind her eyes and she held back a whimper as Cathy stepped over her, feet planted on either side of her hips. Something sharp pressed on the underside of her chin and she ceased to breathe. Horror churned in her gut as she stared up at the gleefully malicious features of a person she once called her friend.

  “I have been dreaming of doing this for weeks now,” Cathy hissed. “Don’t think I won’t slit you like the cunt you are.”

  Bridget didn’t even dare to swallow. “What do you want?” she asked through barely moving lips.

  “I want Mitch to suffer. For you to suffer.”

  Before she could respond, Cathy gripped her arm and tugged her upright. “Don’t think to try anything stupid because I have no qualms in gutting you like a pig. Now get in the chair.”

  Standing on weak knees, she walked the few steps required and dropped into the seat, her thoughts throwing up scenario after scenario of how to escape. None qualified when a knife pressed into her throat. Cathy stood at Bridget’s back. “Put your hands behind you.”

  Bridget hesitated, then hissed as the knife dug into her flesh. Warmth seeped down her neck, the burn making her eyes water. Silently, she did as requested and Cathy worked something around her wrists. It clipped shut and Bridget recognized the hard edges of cuffs. Finally Cathy stepped around her and grasped another chair, pulling it forward until it faced Bridget. She plopped into it and crossed her legs. “Now that’s out of the way,” she said with a smile, “you can tell me where your cell is.”

  “Wh-why?”

  Her features stiffened and she pointed the knife at her. “Don’t question me. Where is your fucking cell?”

  Bridget glanced at the side table before she dropped her gaze. Cathy didn’t miss the move and stood and marched to the living room to swipe up her cell. She ran her finger over the phone then put it to her ear.

  “Hello, lover,” she said.

  * * * * *

  Max sat beside Bryce, fingering the cotton ball that covered the needle mark. It was a routine he knew so well, but today more weight pressed on him at its outcome. Silently he begged it to come back all clear but he wouldn’t know for a few weeks yet. He had ordered a whole gamut of tests just to be sure.

  Bryce hadn’t opened his eyes since he’d arrived, but his sleep appeared more natural. As if he’d wake if shaken. Max rubbed his nape and leaned back in his seat. His phone vibrated and he startled. Slipping it out of his jeans he checked the caller. Bridget. He stood and exited the room before he answered, a smile on his lips. “Hi, babe.”

  “Hello, lover.”

  His heart froze at the sound of that voice. His fingers tightened over his cell, the hair on the back of his neck rose. “What have you done to her?”

  “Do you mean Bridget? Nothing. We’re just hanging out, comparing notes and all that.”

  Rage churned in his gut and he wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her. “You better not—”

  “Better not what? Hurt her? Come on, Mitch, you know me better than that.”

  He didn’t know shit about her. She was off her damn rocker. His name wasn’t Mitch, but she always insisted on calling him that. He didn’t know why and what he thought was roleplaying was simply a woman utterly unhinged. He regretted now more than ever laying eyes on her.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to come here and have a chat. Bridget is full of wonderful advice. She was the one who suggested we talk it out.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Language. You’re talking to a lady.”

  “What I’m talking to is a crazy bitch.”

  Silence reined and he heard a cry of pain that speared him through the chest. Katrina’s heavy breathing came through the phone line. “You want to try that again? Every time you hurt me, I hurt your whore.”

  Max swallowed back the insults burning in his throat. “All right.”

  “I expect you home soon. Don’t be long, otherwise I might have to amuse myself other ways. Oh and don’t think to call the cops. The minute I see a cop I’ll gut her.”

  The line went dead and Max bit back a roar of anger. Panic surged in black, viscous waves. Katrina had Bridget and he cursed his stupidity for leaving her alone. He hurried to his car and sped home, every precious second ticking by. He didn’t want to leave Bridget in the clutches of such an unstable woman. He wiped a trembling hand across his slick brow. Foot planted on the accelerator, he cut off cars, veered onto shoulders when a lane wasn’t moving fast enough.

  He turned into his street at sixty miles per hour. Tires screamed as he pulled to a stop outside his house. Racing to the front door, he prayed Bridget was okay. He barged into the house and skidded to a stop at the sight of Katrina and Bridget sitting calmly, facing each other, like girls having a casual chat. Only Katrina had a knife and Bridget was tied to the chair, her face pale. Katrina stood and circled until she stood beside Bridget, the knife causally dipped over Bridget’s chest. Bridget’s eyes were so wide with fear it sucked the air from his lungs.

  “Let her go,” Max snarled.

  Katrina pressed her forearm on the top of the chair, waving the knife at him as if he were some misbehaving child. “Tut, tut. I have the knife here. You wouldn’t want to get me upset.”

  Max was swallowed by the bile of terror and scrambled for calm even as his heart felt as though it was about to leap out of his chest. “What do you want?”

  Katrina’s smile sickened him. “What do I want? When have you ever cared about what I wanted?”

  He licked dry lips and tried to think of something to placate her. But he came up blank. All he could focus on was the way the light hit the stainless steel and how close the blade hovered near Bridget. Holding out a placatory hand, he took one step closer. “I’m here now. I’m listening.”

  Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t come any closer.”

  He paused, both hands raised. “All right. Why are you here now?”

  “You know why. You need me.”

  Max inched closer, wanting to keep her talking. “Right.”

  A glimmer of hope shone on her face. “Yes. If it wasn’t for your friend convincing you to take that order against me, we’d be together. But I taught him not to mess with me.”

  Everything in him froze. “What do you mean?”

  Katrina rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t that hard, the guy is a druggo, I just slipped him a batch of toxic goods and the re
st is history.”

  Fury surged and he lunged toward her. “You—”

  Bridget screamed as Katrina pressed the knife over her neck. Max jerked to a stop, his chest heaving. Terror roiled at the sight of blood sliding down Bridget’s neck. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “Don’t hurt her? You hurt me with that restraining order.”

  Max struggled to think of a way to mollify her. “You’re right. It was wrong of me. It’s just what was happening was…too intense.”

  Tears glazed Katrina’s eyes and she blinked them back. “That’s how love is supposed to feel. Intense. Dramatic.”

  “I didn’t know that. You know I’ve never been with someone like you before.”

  “Of course you didn’t know,” she said with a sickly sweet voice. “How could you, when all your relationships were just for show? I knew you needed someone like me. Something deep and meaningful. I knew that about you, I mean why else would you have chosen a career as a porn actor?”

  “I did,” he said solemnly, hating her for every lie she forced him to utter.

  “I came here to make amends. To win you back. You ignored me so I had to give you something that showed you how I felt.”

  Max drew a blank. “I…”

  Katrina smirked. “The red underwear. I masturbated with it on so you’d remember what we shared. Smell my desire and remember I wore that pair the first time we fucked.”

  Max’s eyes widened even as disgust curdled in his stomach. He should’ve known. Bridget was a pure cotton girl, nothing overtly sexual. “I got them.”

  Katrina sucked in air through her nose, lips pursed. “I love you more than life. I know what I did wrong years ago. I was too insecure. I accept those women you fucked before, it was just for work. I can forgive you for fucking those other women, but this, this I can’t accept.” Katrina leaned closer toward Bridget, hand fisted in Bridget’s hair, a hateful snarl to her lips. “Did you enjoy fucking my man, bitch?”