The Filthy Series: The Complete Dark Erotic Serial Novel

by Megan D. Martin

  I wanted to slap my stupid conscience.

  “Cool,” I said, with utter sincerity, as if he had just told me he bought a blue t-shirt, instead of threatening my life.

  “I’m fucking serious, Faye. I brought you here for your mom, I didn’t have–”

  “Oh my God, I know!” I threw my hands up in the air and stood. “I fucking get it. Just go to dinner and leave me alone. You’re more smothering than she ever was.”

  I expected him to retort and say something snide back. In fact I hoped he would because I wanted to rip him apart.

  He didn’t. Instead he nodded and left the room without saying a damn thing.

  Stupid men.

  I waited patiently on the end of the bed. Waited for the apartment door to shut, for the lock to click. The longer I waited the more irritated I got. He thinks he can just treat me like a child, force me to go to the doctor, and then threaten me. Threaten me? I clenched and unclenched my fists repeatedly. I considered those moments when he looked genuinely concerned in the car, hell even in the doctor’s office when he had held my hand. His palm had felt so good, so right against mine. Those simple, sparse moments that took me back to the Rhett I knew. I ran a shaky hand over my face. What a fucking joke. Sarah’s red head popped into my mind, carving another path of hurt. Why do I even care that he’s with someone? He’s an asshole!

  My mind spun round and round, from the rage that bubbled for Rhett, to the anger I felt toward his relationship with Sarah. How long have they been together? It didn’t matter. I knew it didn’t. I was going back to my life soon, that was for damn sure, but…but what?

  Fuck. I didn’t fucking know. I was losing my damn mind in this apartment. I needed fresh air. My home. My friend. I needed it all back so I could get my head wrapped around all the confusing thoughts in my head.

  Finally it came. It seemed like hours passed before I heard the simple click of the door closing and the lock following it. Confirming my presence in the apartment was singular. I took several deep breaths before reaching for my purse. I dug out the little baggie that held my ground up heaven. I stared at the thin white powder.

  I’d taken my last bump out in the car while he was in his office. That hadn’t been that long ago, two hours, maybe, but I was already itching for another one, especially after that conversation. After what I had decided I would do. I shook the little baggie until some of the contents spilled onto the back of my right forearm. I would run out soon. I had a couple bumps left, if I stretched it out, but even then those bumps would be bare.

  I leaned in and pressed my right nostril to the end of the line. My skin prickled with anticipation. I loved the feeling. The way my body ached in the moment before I snorted the sweet powder into my nostrils. It was a burning desire like I’d never had for anything else. It ate me alive, consumed me, and I always let myself drown in those moments. Those simple moments of raw desperation, before I gave myself what I desperately wanted.

  I sucked in, snorting half the line into my nose. Fuck. Burns so good. I switched to my other nostril and consumed the rest of it. I rubbed my nose and closed my eyes, letting myself bask in the instant feeling of pleasure it brought. I didn’t sit there long though, no, I knew they would be back soon.

  I opened the door and walked out into the living room. It was dark in there, the TV was off and the drapes were drawn shut. Only a dim kitchen light gave the room a soft glow.

  I scanned the entire area, taking in the bland painting of a woman playing a fiddle hanging over the couch.

  Who would buy something like that?

  A picture frame on the table caught my attention. Rhett and Sarah’s smiling faces stared back at me. Younger versions of themselves. I snatched the frame up and looked at it closely. The picture seemed to be fairly old. Rhett practically looked like he did back when I knew him. They’ve been together that long? Something else slammed into me. She’s the girlfriend he told me about that summer!

  “I think I’m in love, Faye.”

  My heart sped up as I sat across from Rhett on the plush white couch. He’d only been home for a few weeks, but I was already back to crushing on him something terrible. He came home and my whole life changed, it always did.

  “Really?” With me. Say you’re in love with me.

  “I met her at school. She’s…amazing.” He smiled and simultaneously, my heart sank drowning in the hope it floated in.

  I shoved the memory out of my head and dropped the picture on the floor. The glass shattered on impact. It felt good, better than I thought it would.

  Nothing else interested me in the living room, so I moved to the bedroom. Their door was halfway open, the lamp on one night table on. This room was equally as boring as the living room. The bed had a plain brown comforter and the painting above the bed featured a little girl playing dress up in red shoes much too big for her. I frowned at it.

  I could remember Rhett’s bedroom back when I still lived at home. He had a bunch of stuff, including maps of the ocean floor, huge, poster-sized stills of sea creatures, all of them covering the walls in crafty disorder. It was strange to imagine the same guy laid his head down here for the night, beneath a little girl in red shoes.

  I made my way into the room quickly, scanning everything. The room was neat, and bare, revealing nothing important to either Sarah or Rhett. I pulled out a dresser drawer and discovered socks. I shook my head. “Yeah, take socks. That will really hit him where it hurts.” I slammed the drawer shut.

  I eyed the bed next then dropped to my knees. A bunch of stuff was cluttered underneath. Bingo! I pulled out the closest thing I could see. It turned out to be a poster. I unrolled it to reveal a picture of a manatee. It swam on its back its fins reaching out to a diver that swam over it. It looked as if the two were high-fiving. I knew the diver was Rhett. I smiled darkly.

  Do you really want to do this?

  What am I even doing?

  I couldn’t really answer that question. I wasn’t going to leave. I knew that much. But I was going to show Rhett that he couldn’t just boss me around, threaten me, make me do things I didn’t want to do, and I just lay there and take it. No, I wasn’t that kind of girl. I might fuck for a living, but I did it by choice. Every time I got fucked I got something out of it, whether it was money or drugs, I got something, and I would prove that to Rhett tonight. If he was going to take from me, I would take from him. Smashing the picture of him and Sarah was more for me than it was for him. I had a feeling that he wouldn’t care so much that the picture was broken anyway. He was practical and would just buy a new frame. It would just be annoying and that wasn’t what I wanted.

  I rolled the poster back up and carried it into the kitchen. I sat it on the counter and jerked open the closest drawer. Where are the scissors? But then I remembered my knife tucked safely away in my purse. I hurried and grabbed it. The blade made a loud clicking noise as it popped into place. I clutched it in my hand and stared at the rolled up poster.

  Fucking destroy it. But I hesitated. Why? I couldn’t name a good reason. Show him he can’t fuck with you, Faye. What is he really going to do to you?

  I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not physically at least.

  “Are you really going to cut it up?”

  I jumped, the sound of Rhett’s voice shattering the silent room. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

  “What the fuck? Have you been in there the whole time?”

  A sinister smile spread across his lips as he motioned behind his bedroom door. I faintly remembered it being halfway open. “I have.” He moved slowly into the kitchen his gaze never leaving mine.

  “You left with Sarah.”

  He shook his head. “She went to grab take-out for us. I knew better than to trust a whore.”

  His words gored me. “You don’t get to treat me like this.” My heart pounded loud in my ears, the thrill of fear, mingled with the coke, pumping through my veins.

  “Treat you like what?” He held out his hands. He
stood only a few feet away now. “Bring you into my house, care for you, buy you clothes? I didn’t have to do those things, Faye.” He paused and dropped his arms. “I didn’t have to do a damn thing for you. I could have left you out there on the street. Left you to rot. Your mother’s dead. She wouldn’t have known the damn difference.”

  “So why didn’t you, huh?” I clutched the knife like it was a lifeline. The fresh high in my system made me jumpy.

  “Because she loved you. She wanted better for you. I wouldn’t dishonor her memory by letting you rot on the fucking street.” He didn’t yell the words, but he might as well have, with the way they reverberated in my head.

  “You don’t know me anymore.”

  He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Anymore? You were just a dumb little kid when I last saw you. Now is no different. You’re nineteen years old and you’ve probably had sex with more men than the number of times I’ve taken a shit in my lifetime. You’re a homeless prostitute. There isn’t anything else to know.”

  “Fuck you, Rhett.” I grabbed the poster, ready to slice it into a million pieces, to destroy it like he did my heart, but he was quicker, snatching it out of my hand.

  I watched him unroll it. He stared down at himself as if it was some sort of miracle. “It’s funny that you chose this to destroy.” He glanced up at me. “Why?” He seemed genuinely curious.

  I shrugged.

  “Don’t just shrug,” he said heatedly. “Tell me why you picked this.”

  “What’s there to tell? I’m just a homeless prostitute. I don’t have morals or reasons, apparently.”

  Rhett rolled the poster back up and set it on the counter. He still wore the clothes he’d been wearing all day, his shirt hugging his muscular chest, the jeans loose, but tight in all the right places. Unbidden, moisture pooled in my core.

  “Tell me.”

  “Because I know what it means to you.” I spit the words at him. “I knew it would hurt you.”

  A ruthless look spread across his face. “And that’s what you want, huh? To hurt me?”

  I smiled, showing all my teeth. “You get what you give, Rhetty baby.” I thought that would do it, that it would set him off, but it didn’t. He just stood there looking down at me, a million questions in his eyes.

  “Why do you do this?” He took a step toward me, but I didn’t move.

  “Do what?” I tried to sound firm, but I was certain I failed. The woodsy notes of his cologne infiltrated my senses, making my head swim with lust.

  “You’ve been here hardly twenty-four hours and you’ve turned everything upside down.” He spoke the words quietly and with less force. His gaze searched my face.

  “You drug me away from my life.” Why couldn’t he see that he wasn’t the only one who’d had their life turned on its end?

  “Just shut up about your life for a second. Quit acting like you’re proud of what you do,” he sneered. I hated that sound, that condescending drawl.

  “Quit trying to act like you’re better than me,” I hissed.

  “I am better than you.” He took a threatening step forward, his chest bumping mine, at the same time snatching the knife out my hand. I let him. He pushed it away from us. It slid down the counter.

  I narrowed my eyes, desperately trying not to focus on my hardened nipples. “Oh, yeah? Fine. Maybe you are better than me.” I knew the look on my face had to be smug. “So tell me, Rhett, how does it feel?”

  “How does what feel?” he growled.

  I leaned in, letting my chest press harder against his, hard enough where I knew he could feel my throbbing nipples. “How does it feel to want me? A prostitute. Your own fucking sister.” I smiled sinfully. “How does it feel to want to fuck me, someone so beneath you?”

  I barely got the words out before he snapped. I saw it there in his eyes, as if he had no control. His palm slammed into the side of my face, like a brick, knocking the air from my lips and sending pain shattering across my skull. Before I could react, cry out, or even think, his hand was gripping my chin and his lips were mashing against mine. I stumbled backward and he followed me, pressing me against the sink. His hard body was flush against mine, his thick, pulsing cock knifing my stomach. A sexual need washed over my body. I would have lost my balance had Rhett not been pressing into me.

  He forced my lips open with his tongue demanding entrance. I opened my mouth, letting him in. The sensation of his tongue dueling with mine sent a moan rushing from my lips. I wanted to take the sound back, but it was too late, lost somewhere between where I began and he ended. A rough hand snaked into my hair, tugging at the strands. Molten heat flooded my already damp panties. I gripped his sinewy waist, letting my nails dig into his skin. Nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing. Not even the fucking coke I snorted less than ten minutes ago. I’d imagined what it would be like to kiss him for years. What his lips would be like against mine. I knew it would be good, so good. But I didn’t think it would be like this, an all-consuming perfection that devoured every inch of me.

  It wasn’t often that men kissed me, and the ones that did, didn’t do it like this. Not with the artful precision that Rhett was using. Or maybe they did, but all I could think about was the money that was going to land in my hand as soon as the ordeal was over. I didn’t want their kisses. Not like this.

  A phone started ringing somewhere in the apartment, but I ignored the annoying noise. The tinkering sound seemed to go on forever, background music in our heated interlude. With his free hand he traced the outline of my collarbone before letting his fingers dip lower to the curve of one of my breasts. His mouth was ravenous on me, but his fingers were slow, deliberate. How he could do both at once befuddled my overwhelmed brain. It didn’t matter, as long as he didn’t stop. His fingers traced lower, circling around my nipple, but not touching it.

  Fuck, please touch it, please.

  A loud knock at the door nearly made me jump out of my skin, like a cold bucket of ice was poured over my head. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He stood there in front of me, his lips damp from our kiss. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. He stared at me as if I wasn’t real, like I was some sort of bad dream.

  “Rhett!” Sarah called through the door, followed by more pounding.

  Neither of us moved. It was like we were stuck in some sort of weird limbo. His gaze fell to my cheek, which started throbbing in full force. A dark look swallowed everything on his face, the wonder, the surprise, the lust. It ate it all up and replaced it with that mask of hate he wore so well.

  “You disgust me,” he spat at me as he backpedaled toward the door.

  “Rhett! I’ve been calling, I can’t carry all the food up. I need help,” Sarah whined through the door.

  I smiled cruelly, embracing the increased burning from the movement. “No, I don’t.” He may not have wanted me back then, back when I was just a silly little girl with a crush. But he wanted me now.

  He could deny it. He could pretend that I was no one. Just some whore of a sister, but I wasn’t. Rhett Hale was my brother. He lived in his own perfect little world, with his perfect little girlfriend. But I knew better. He wanted more. More than this stiff boring apartment, more than the bland simple things that made him feel safe. He wanted something wild. Something better. Something dirty. Filthy.

  He wants me.

  She would let it go

  One day

  When the moon glowed with unshed tears

  And the world was a different place.

  ONE

  I didn’t know what made me more nervous—the fact that I was about to see my mom’s dead body or that I was about to see him. Her husband, Rhett’s father. He was the reason I stood outside the doors of my mother’s funeral wearing an outfit I could never afford, an outfit that tried to cover up the truth. That I, Faye Turner, was a homeless prostitute. A dirty, filthy whore.

  My hand shook as I pressed the cigarette to my lips. I wasn’t ready for this. />
  Will I ever be ready? No. My body already ached even though I’d taken a bump of cocaine less than twenty minutes ago. I was almost out. Only one hit left of the little package I’d paid for with a rough face-fucking.

  Rhett, my step-brother and his girlfriend Sarah had already gone inside, leaving me out here alone with my thoughts, my trembling hands, and my cigarette.

  I inhaled deeply taking the warm smoke inside my lungs, letting it fill me up. Maybe if I breathe in deep enough it will carry me away? I looked up at the pale blue sky. Maybe I could float to the moon and make my home in a crater. I almost giggled at the idea.

  “Can I bum a smoke?” The voice to my left startled me, making me jump and I nearly lost my balance. I knew that voice. It was the same one that had haunted my thoughts for the past three years. I stumbled back a few steps and looked up into the face I promised myself I would never see again.

  Taylor Hale, my step-dad, stared down at me, his blue eyes familiar, so full of lust they made my skin prickle. His brown hair had more gray in it than the last time I saw him. His face a little more lined. But he was still the same man. Still tall and broad, towering over me.

  “You’re my good girl.” Words whispered from years ago echoed in my mind. I shook my head and dropped my half-smoked cigarette on the ground.

  Taylor bent down and picked it up. “Here, ma’am. You dropped this.” He took a step toward me, the cigarette poised between his fingers. I stared at it like it was infected with poison.

  “Just stay away from me while I’m here,” I said, regaining my voice. My palm itched to reach in my purse and extract the switchblade inside.

  “Stay away from you?” His eyes twinkled with their familiar fire. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He held out his hand to me, as if I would really take it. As if he didn’t remember the way he damaged me. The way his fingertips caressed my body until even I couldn’t deny their pleasure. Seven years of raping me and he doesn’t remember who I am?