Mindfuck - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist (Mind Games Book 1)

by Gabi Moore

  Maddy: It’s almost 8. You’ll have to go soon.

  Zack: Yeah. Damn. Same time tomorrow?

  Maddy: Of course.

  Zack: I loved the picture. Thank you.

  As I hit enter, her avatar blinked red and she went offline. The computer was just a computer again. And I was back in jail. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.

  What the hell was I doing?

  Relax, idiot. She knows you’re not getting out any time soon, so you can’t possibly be leading her on, you’re fine, you’re not doing anything wrong here…

  The guards unlocked for me and I made my way out into the hall, shuffled quickly to the bathrooms, slammed a stall door shut and leaned against the wall to catch my breath.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to piece together the picture again. The yellow cartoon ducks on the shower curtain. The wet tendrils of hair curling over her naked shoulders. The way the water had beaded into droplets on the swell of her thighs, like she was a peach in morning dew...

  With one furious movement I yanked down my trousers, my rock hard cock bouncing free. I threw back my head and squeezed a rough hand over the shaft, stroking out the delicious sensations I had tried to hide just a moment before. My trousers slipped halfway down my legs and goosebumps shot through me. I teased myself to the brink, pinning down her plump, freshly showered image in my mind, breath coming in jags.

  I stroked.

  I pictured her soft little body bent double, me sunk deep between those pretty legs, burrowing all the way into her sweet body. I pictured that long, Maid Marion hair pulled tight in one fist while my other fist gripped hard round her neat little waist.

  I stroked faster.

  I pictured her shy, puffy little lips struggling to close around me, and her dainty eyebrows quivering as she slid her mouth all the way to the base of my cock. I pictured other things, too. Dark things…

  “Eh, fuckhead! Clear out man, I gotta go.”

  I clenched down and shuddered silently, my balls tightening under me.

  “Occupied!” I hissed.

  “Zack? Is that you? Come on, your dick can wait, I’m desperate here.”

  I slammed my other hand into a fist. Fucking Roger Blunt, my cellmate and closest friend in this dump, although ‘friend’ wasn’t the exact word I’d be tempted to use for him this very moment.

  “Fuck off, dude! I’m busy,” I spat and inched myself closer to coming, her image rapidly dissolving.

  “Hurry the fuck up! Anyway man, congrats on the hearing.” His voice echoed large all over the dingy tiled bathroom walls.

  “What?” I mumbled, the edge of my orgasm retreating away from me. All that was left of her beautiful soft, wet body was the top of her creamy thigh. Real life was crackling in at the edges. I tried to hold on to the image. To her warm, welcoming smile. I was about to explode.

  “Oh, you didn’t know? A bunch of us. It’s the day of judgment, man. Praise Jesus. This Wednesday.”

  A hearing. I couldn’t believe my ears. Her pretty, bashful face came flooding back in full, taking over my whole awareness. Her smile was everywhere, and soon, into my shaking hands, I came one hard, thundering orgasm, my entire body tightening and sending sputters of white over my gripping hands. I growled under my breath. A hearing? It was almost too good to be true.

  “Are you still fucking jerking it in there, man? Get out, I gotta take a dump.”

  Chapter 3 - Madeleine

  It’s not particularly profound but here’s my revelation: lots of interesting things in life start with shit.

  Just hear me out.

  I had been rudely woken up that morning by a situation I had faced many, many times before. You see, sometimes I’d agree to board a recovering cat or dog at my home for a few days because there simply wasn’t room for them at the clinic. Sometimes, the dog or cat in question would be ill, scared, or both… and I’d invariably wake up to some sort of disaster.

  This morning, a bad-tempered maine coon mix had done a few panicked laps round and round my living room, all the while shitting herself and pulling out the stitches I had so laboriously put in the day before. The result was that I awoke to a house smeared with sickly brown stains over my sofa and carpets, and found her cowering behind some pot plants she had knocked over. The litter box, however, was pristine.

  Everyone thinks they’re an ‘animal lover’, but as a vet, I’ve quickly learnt that very few people actually do love animals. Not really. And when I woke to the smell and the chaos that morning, I could barely convince myself that I even loved them.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw the dial gliding past 7 o’clock. Damn. I’d have to miss my regular chat with Zack. The other animals were upset and I’d need time to disinfect her wound again and re-stitch it. I’d probably get into work late, too.

  Still in my pajamas, I ran a bucket of piping hot soapy water, threw the sofa cushion covers into the wash and got to work with a spray bottle of stain remover. Still groggy and on my hands and knees, I tried to maintain composure.

  Be compassionate, Madeleine, they’re just animals.

  But the more I scrubbed, the angrier I got. Other women my age were out there having fun. Or they were married and thinking about baby showers or wedding color schemes. And here I was, wearing faded pajamas and cleaning up cat shit. And not for the first time, either.

  I worked angrily, pulling the stiff brush bristles over the stains again and again, till the froth came up high. The animals in the house could sense my irritation, and had all skedaddled, except the maine coon who hid behind my destroyed pot plants and scowled at me.

  Then my phone rang.

  “Crap,” I hissed and flung the brush into the bucket, sending spuds flying. Drying one gloved hand on my pajama bottoms, I swiped at my phone and answered without seeing who it was.

  “Hello?”

  The voice on the other side was immediately familiar.

  “Maddy? Maddy, is that you? Maddy, I’ve been thinking so hard about things… can we talk, baby? I hope you’ll just hear me out…”

  It was Alex.

  My ex.

  My difficult, emotionally unavailable, lying, manipulative, selfish-in-bed asshole of an ex.

  Be compassionate, Maddy.

  “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

  “Oh nothing, it’s just, man… I’ve had the craziest night. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through. I had this dream the other night about you, and it was crazy, do you mind if I tell you about it quickly? I know you think this is crazy, but will you hear me out for a second?”

  This was Alex’s game. Alex’s difficult, emotionally unavailable, lying, manipulative, selfish-in-bed asshole game.

  He only ever wanted what he didn’t have, so just about the only time he was kind and sweet to me was when we were completely broken up and he was trying to earn my forgiveness for being such a dick. And then I’d forgive him. And then he’d go right back to being a dick again. Then I’d break up with him. Then he’d realize how badly he wanted me.

  The last few times he had called, he just wanted to tell me all about how much he’d grown, how much learning he’d done …and about how I owed it to him to give him another chance.

  “Alex …I’m just a little busy at the moment, can I call you back some other time?”

  “Well, yeah, sure, I guess …it’s just that this is important, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, it’s important. I hope you’re well. But I can’t talk right this instant.” Out the corner of my eye I could make out the maine coon dashing away from her hiding place.

  “Well, why not? What are you doing?”

  God, I did not feel like this right now. My eyes turned to follow the maine coon and make sure she wasn’t getting into any more trouble, and I instantly caught sight of little Jasper clawing his way into the jumbo-sized bag of cat food. One of the dogs must have chewed a hole in it and now Jasper was dangling from that hole, little feet two inches off the ground, his head buri
ed deep inside the bag, eating away at the food that was for all the cats that lived here and meant to last me till the end of the month.

  I dashed over and tried to pry him loose, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder, accidentally smearing his black fur with soap bubbles from my other hand.

  “Jasper! Get out of there!”

  He twisted around, scratched my hands and dashed off, just in time for me to see the maine coon squatting down in the living room corner, preparing for another assault on my beleaguered carpet.

  “Hey! No!” I yelled and raced over to shoo her away, but not before she released another jet of yellow-brown cat shit behind her. The putrid smell filled the air.

  “Maddy? Maddy? Not being rude or anything but you could try to take this a little more seriously. Are you even listening to me right now?”

  “Alex, I’ll call you back…” I started saying, glad that at least the maine coon had run outside. But just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Jimbo, one of the bigger dogs, came blundering through the house, curious about the fuss and accidentally tripping over the soapy water bucket, sending it spilling over the carpet. I nearly exploded.

  Then something happened. My ultimate shit morning was now coming to a head.

  I ripped off my wet glove and flung it to the ground, gathered my strength and yelled into the phone.

  “Alex, stop calling me! I don’t care! We’re broken up and you should stop calling me. Goodbye!”

  I could hear his protests as I hung up. Almost instantly my fingers dashed over the screen and I called Annie, and spoke into her voicemail.

  “Annie, it’s Maddy. I’m sorry but I can no longer hold your cat for you. It’s been months and if you don’t take him today, I’m dropping him off at St. Clara’s. I’m sorry but I’m not running a charity here.”

  I tossed my phone onto the couch. Heart still pumping I padded right through the wet carpet, in my socks, and went into the kitchen with Jimbo looking on dumbfounded.

  I heard my phone ping.

  Fuck them all.

  Give people an inch and they’ll take it all, and shit on it, and wonder why you aren’t grateful for the privilege. Well, I was getting sick of it.

  I stood for a moment in the kitchen.

  I was a cat lady. And this was a cat lady’s house. Instead of interesting gourmet goodies and wine and pretty china, my kitchen was filled with dog and cat medicine and bags of food and disintegrating chew toys. Instead of waking up in a slinky negligee in the arms of a man who adored me, I woke to the stench of cat shit and a house full of sick and dying animals that took and took and never gave me anything in return.

  So, I decided that just for today, I was done.

  I turned on my heel and walked out of the kitchen again. I couldn’t have had more than $200 in my bank account at that moment, but I would have gladly paid that all to a cleaning company for the joy of not having to be in that house that morning. I stripped off my clothing and threw it onto the ground, then headed to the bathroom.

  I quickly checked my phone.

  A new message from Zack. I quickly opened it and read it so quickly it took me a few seconds to process.

  Zack: I had my hearing today. I’m going to be out on July 6th.

  Heart still beating madly and full of fire at having told off not one but two toxic people in my life that morning already, I barely thought twice as I tapped out a message and sent it quickly.

  Maddy: That’s great news! I can’t wait to meet you :) :)

  Good. Assertive. No more doormatting for me.

  Naked, I continued on to the bathroom and climbed into the shower, setting it as hot as my skin could manage.

  Well, didn’t I want to meet him? I had kept him a secret from everyone – after all, what was more tawdry in the world than meeting a prisoner on a dating site? And I had already had enough of Annie’s ’concern’ about me and how I was probably incapable of choosing a man who wasn’t an abusive douche.

  But out? He was getting out?

  As the hot water pummeled down over my body, I felt stupid for not anticipating it. Of course he would get out eventually. And so what if I did want to meet him? Maybe I could be a little proactive in life for a change. Maybe I deserved a hot, sweet guy who flattered me and never failed to show up when he said he would. What’s the worst that could happen?

  As the water melted over me and soothed my nerves a bit, the panic set in. I roughly shampooed my hair, my head filling with steam and worry. What if he was a murderer? What if he tried to murder me? What if he was already making a plan to head over to my house right now, while I was in the shower and…? I turned the taps off, squeezed my hair out and ran back into the living room, towel wrapped round my dripping body.

  I picked up my phone and dialed.

  “Hello, Annie? Oh god, I’m sorry for that previous message, I don’t know what got into me… I’m just under a lot of stress at the moment, you know? Don’t worry about Jasper, of course he can stay here as long as you need, I understand how hard it’s been for you.”

  As I spoke into the phone I double and triple checked the locks on the doors, the warm shower water going cold on my bare legs.

  Chapter 4 - Zack

  “What woman could you have in your life beside your old ma, huh?” she cackled playfully, and did up my tie for me.

  “Gah, ma, that’s too tight. Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Ladies like a well-dressed man. It’s the least you could do.”

  I looked at my ‘well-dressed’ reflection, wiggled the knot a little and tried to see exactly what was so much better about me now compared to how I was before. As far as I could see, shiny shoes and a nice collared shirt didn’t do squat to pretty up what was inside my head.

  “There, look at that,” she said and looked on with satisfaction. “You always did clean up nice. You have your father’s good looks, that’s for sure.”

  If there was one man in the world I didn’t want to resemble, it was him. But a man’s character is more than skin deep. And having just spent the better part of two years in a cage with nothing to my name but my own skin, I knew that better than anyone. We’re all just meat. Just great big bags of meat. When you’re on the inside, your face and your name and all that crap don’t matter one bit. It’s as pointless as a pretty knotted piece of fabric around your neck. No, the only thing that matters is who you are. And I was a man. At least, I was when I walked out of the giant steel gates two days ago. I had to ‘adjust’ now. Living with ma for a little bit, catching my breath, getting a job, wearing white, ironed shirts. These were all things I had to remember how to do. And meeting women. There was also that can of worms.

  Ma’s house was oppressive. Too small. It felt like I was in danger of getting caught up in a doily or a lace curtain at every turn. My mom was old, and tired, and had the kind of nice-old-lady home that only widows ever have. She sure as hell didn’t need her six-and-a-half foot tall, thirty-two-year-old ex-con son trampling over her crystal ornaments and little vases of dried flowers.

  Before, when I had come back from my first Iraq deployment, my oversized boots in her spare room were …endearing.

  Now? Not so much.

  Now, when the war had only been with my own stupid self, those big hulking boots were less acceptable. I knew that. But it was all going to work out fine. I’d leave soon, and in any case, her bones were becoming brittle and she needed a little extra help getting up and down the stairs. So we did out little thing, her and I.

  “Be good, baby,” she said as she closed the door behind me and I stepped outside into the free world. A free man, choosing of his own free will to wear a too-tight tie.

  My mind switched gear: the image of wet, curled hair on bare shoulders came blustering into my mind like it had been waiting patiently for a free moment. I had never expected her to be so eager to meet. In fact, I was banking on her disappearing after I shared the news with her. What sane woman would want me? On the other han
d, had I ever been drawn to a woman that was sane?

  She had been so cheerful about it. She had suggested this coffee place about twenty minutes from ma’s house, and I remembered having gone there a few times, way back in another life. I had beat off to this woman’s picture more times than I could count. And now I was wearing a pressed pair of trousers, a fresh white shirt and new shoes for her.

  Life was funny.

  I smiled as I descended the steps and half wondered if I’d cream my pants just meeting her in real life.

  The bus trip went too quickly, and I found my palms prickling up with cold sweat as I got closer. It had been dumb, to flirt, to say what I had said. I could see that now. Usually I copped out with the strong silent routine and girls loved it all the same, but I had opened up to her because I guess I never imagined we’d actually meet. And so it was all safe.

  She was safe.

  From me.

  I stepped off the bus and even from across the street, peering into the giant windows of The Magic Bean Café, I could recognize her instantly.

  There she was.

  I could have made out her glorious light brown hair in a whole line-up of mermaids. She was sitting in the corner, nervously watching the entrance. Like me, she was adjusting herself, trying on different facial expressions. Trying to look cool.

  The bus pulled off again behind me and I stared for a moment, heart pumping. That was her, but without me in her life. Yet. Safe, perfect and happy. And in a moment, I was about to walk in there and change everything.

  I took a deep breath, said a little prayer that she wouldn’t be put off by me, and stepped out to cross the road. The café inside was warm and noisy, but her cool blue eyes hooked onto me and held my gaze as I walked over and sat down in front of her.

  She looked up at me, hands folded in her lap, and I could see it: she was petrified. And why wouldn’t she be? She probably thought I was a murderer. Most people in this nice little normal-people café probably thought the same thing. Why had I never told her?