Degrade

by T. L Smith

  “What are you doing, Aria,” Zeke says looking over my shoulder. I turn my head slowly to see a look of death on her face, she’s pissed.

  “I’m taking Bexley with me, let go of her hand, Zeke,” she warns. The men around us stand up, and I realize they all have MC cuts on. Fuck!

  “You work for me, Aria,” he says not letting go of my hand. I look back at her and watch as a smile grows on her face.

  “That may be so, but don’t think I won’t put a bullet in one of these boys’ brains before they touch me.” The men stop, all except Dunk.

  “You can take her,” he says, guessing she will do what she says. He drops my hand and takes a step back. Aria touches my shoulders.

  “You can come to my place tomorrow to get her when you’ve cooled off,” she says and grabs my hand and pulls me away. She blows a kiss to the boys and then gives them the finger.

  The drive to Aria’s is quiet. She doesn’t usually live here, so she’s renting a small house with large acreage. Jagger came with her.

  “I know just the thing to help you unwind,” she says walking to the back of the house. I follow her and she turns on a switch which lights up the backyard. The area is basically a shooting range, boards all set up, ready to play. She picks up her archery gear and relaxes her shoulders, shooting and hitting the bullseye. She tells me what to do and I’m hopeless, I can’t even get the arrow to go anywhere near the board. She laughs and opens a chest and it’s full of guns.

  “Will you get in trouble?” I ask her, hoping she won’t.

  “For defending you?” she asks me.

  “Yes.”

  “Probably, I’m sure Dominic would love to spank me for it. But not too much, I’m their money maker,” she says smiling.

  “What is it that you do?” She gives me an evil smile, but it’s mixed with happiness.

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  I nod my head.

  “I’m a trafficker, Bexley.” My eyes open wide, she must register my shock ‘cause she starts laughing.

  “That’s the same thing Jagger did. You sure you don’t want a man like my brother instead of Zeke?” she asks raising her eyebrows.

  “What do you traffic?”

  “I traffic men, Bexley.”

  “You…what?” I ask stunned.

  “It’s what I’m good at. I get gorgeous young men, break them down, then sell them to the old ladies. It’s why I’m here. I had to meet a new client, a very exclusive client.” She reaches in and goes to hand me a gun, I shake my head at her still trying to take in everything she’s said.

  “And Zeke is your boss?”

  “Technically, yes. But, Dominic is my actual boss. Dominic is the King Pin and Zeke is the money.”

  “Wow!”

  “And Bexley, he’s extremely dangerous. Please be careful around him.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me,” I say to her just above a whisper. She grabs a bigger gun, and under that I see a sniper rifle. I grab it, set it up, and lay down in the grass. I start shooting. I’m good at it, always have been. My family has taught me well. I hit every target straight on.

  “Woo-hoo girl, who knew,” she says sounding impressed.

  “Very impressive, Bexley,” comes a voice from behind me. I know that voice could pick it absolutely anywhere.

  “Tell me, what else don’t I know?” he asks. I stand up and brush the grass off myself.

  “I will shoot you if you touch another woman again,” I warn. Aria laughs and waves goodbye as she heads back to the house. I look up at Zeke and see him looking at the markers out on the field. I hit the bullseye on everyone.

  “No touching,” he says sounding impressed.

  “No letting them touch,” I say.

  “No letting them,” he says taking a step closer.

  “Bullet if you do, to remember me after I leave you,” I say meaning what I say.

  “Never again,” he says stepping even closer. Wrapping his arms around me, mine circle him. “Don’t ever lay your hands on me again, Bexley. I have a short temper.”

  I nod my head in his chest. “You’re a bad man, aren’t you, Zeke?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “The worst, Bexley. The worst,” he says sending a shiver up my spine, but he squeezes me tighter.

  Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.

  ~James A. Baldwin~

  She knows some of the things I do. Aria told her, I know she did. I was listening. She took it calmer than I thought. I was expecting her to yell and scream. Leave me, even. Though she did none of those things, she worked me to her advantage, made me make promises I would never give to anyone else. But she surprised me, even with that gun. She’s one of the best shooters I’ve seen, and I have seen a lot. She shot each target as skilled as someone who is trained.

  “You like her,” I ask her, referring to Aria.

  “Yes, she’s no bullshit. It’s refreshing,” she says smirking, wrapping her arms around me. I follow and wrap my arms around her, bringing her closer.

  “I don’t bullshit you, Bexley,” I tell her, wanting to gauge her reaction.

  “Mmmhmm,” is all she says smiling. My hands circle around her face, one on each of her cheeks. I lean her face back and just look, I can’t say it enough, think it enough that she’s literally breathtaking. She smiles up at me, and I lean down placing a soft kiss to her lips. Her hands now cover mine, over her face. And she reaches up to deepen the kiss, I let her.

  “Are you two going to suck face all night or come and play guitar hero with me,” Aria’s voice sings out. Bexley smiles and pulls away from me. She starts to walk off and stops mid-step looking back at me, a mischievous smile taking over.

  “If you play for at least an hour, I’ll let you have me any way you want,” she says shaking her ass and then running inside. And what kind of man would I be if I didn’t follow?

  “Oh, come on, Aria. I so kicked your ass in that one,” Bexley whines. Aria places her hand on her hip and holds the guitar, her eyebrows raised.

  “P…p…please! No one can beat me, I’m the mother-fucking-queen of this game.”

  “I won, didn’t I, Zeke?” Bexley says and both eyes turn to me. Bexley smiling sweetly, Aria threatening that she may kill me with her guitar if I don’t pick her.

  “You won. Sis is just not used to losing, she’ll get over it.” Jagger steps up from behind us laughing.

  “Fuck you all, leave my house.” Aria shoots her hands up pointing to the door.

  “I’ll see you next week?” Bexley asks leaning in kissing her cheek then pulling me out the door. Aria mutters something not appropriate and Bexley laughs.

  Bexley tells me how she ended up at the club and that it was Jagger’s idea. I will definitely be having a chat to Jagger about that. She also tells me how fond of Aria she is. I try telling her not to get too attached to her and she laughs at me.

  “You tell me that about us, Zeke,” she says laughing.

  “Yes, and I’m right, you shouldn’t. I will only break your heart. Because I will break your heart, Bexley. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. Remember all the times I warned you, and those times you chose not to listen to me.”

  “How can you do that? How can you go from a great evening to ruining it with your awful words? I’m not asking you to declare your love, Zeke, I’m asking you to just end a good night on a high note. But no, you have to fuck it up with all your stupid rules and precautions.” She leans away from me in the car and stares out the window, entirely ignoring my presence now.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m your happily ever after, Bexley. I’m not. I’m your hell, you just haven’t realized it yet.”

  “Just shut up talking and take me home,” she mutters, ignoring me.

  When we pull up to the house, she’s quiet. She is quiet when she enters, and she’s quiet as she strips down to nothing and climbs in bed facing away from me.

  “Don’t
act like this is news to you, Bexley. Don’t act like I hurt you every time I tell you the truth. I won’t lie to you about any of this. What I say is the truth.” I hear her sigh. She’s slowly coming to terms, I think, that this won’t last forever. But right now, now is all that matters.

  Love makes your soul crawl out of its hiding place.

  ~Zora Neale Hurtson~

  These are my thoughts as soon as I wake, it happens every time. No matter what. They consume me. I guess I’m trying to make myself believe that my love will be enough. That it is enough. Though, as I reach my hand out to touch his toned and chiseled body, my thoughts take a back burner. I run my hand along his stomach, slowing wanting it to go lower. Just as I reach his waistband, he clasps my hand in his and stops me. He throws my hand to the side and steps from the bed, not even throwing me a backwards glance. My heart breaks a little bit each time he does this to me. I’m afraid if nothing changes, and I don’t receive the tiniest bit of affection, I will become a shell of the person I was. I will basically become his whore, only there for when he needs to fuck. Never to make love. It’s purely a sexual, animal act. There’s never a trace of love when it comes to him.

  I watch as he walks from the shower, dripping wet. Making my pussy come to life with just the look of him. He’s what I’d say the devil sculpted. Why the devil you ask? Because God would never be so cruel as to make a man so perfect as him to torture me. He would give me a man to love, a man that would show me an ounce of love and affection back. So, he must be the devil. He’s perfect in every way, except the way that counts.

  The heart.

  I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a heart. And that alone breaks my heart again. Even though I know he doesn’t love me, I love him. I believe that that’s enough. Well, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  He stands at the end of the bed naked as the day he was born. His toned and sun-kissed skin glistening from the water that’s still dripping from him. He looks up at me, and my eyes travel the length of him as I feel his eyes boring into mine. He. Is. Deadly. Anyone who knows him knows this. But looks can be deceiving. He isn’t covered in tattoos, hell he doesn’t even smoke. His eyes are blue though sometimes they turn gray when he’s angry, very angry. His hair is long on top and he usually styles it so the top flips back. It’s shaven around the sides, and if someone tried to pull his haircut off, I don’t think it would ever look as good as it does on him. His body, well his body is made of the devil, including his face, the devil I tell you. It’s something no woman or man can resist. It has that pull, where you want to run your tongue over every inch of him. His cheekbones are high and pronounced. His eyelashes are long, his body is pure muscle, and I don’t think there’s an inch of fat on him at all. His cock is massive, and it hits all those perfect spots when he slides into me, which makes my pussy clench even harder just thinking about sex with him. His ass, though, his ass I have to say was sculpted by the gods. It’s the best ass I’ve ever seen, and I have seen a few. It has no hair, thank God. And its round, which makes me want run my hands over it.

  “You staying in bed all day?” his loud gruff voice makes my eyes snap to his. His voice is one that commands. He’d make a perfect Dom with a rough voice like that. He tips his head to the side when I don’t answer, getting impatient with me. He’s still naked, placing his suit on the bed waiting for me to answer, so he can continue his task of getting dressed and be gone.

  “No,” I answer looking in his eyes. He pulls his pants up then slides into a crisp white shirt. He grabs his tie and starts to do it up when I stand. Fully naked. His eyes appreciate me for a second before they go back to the task at hand – getting dressed. I walk past him and go straight to the shower, I hear him as he leaves not even saying a simple goodbye and I sigh inside. Why is he like this? Why does he even keep me around? I know I should leave him and that I could find someone to love me like I’m meant to. But I just can’t stand the thought of leaving him.

  After I’m showered and dressed, I apply some light makeup and make my way out of our bedroom. I stop when I hear voices, trying to listen to what they’re talking about.

  “Come on, Zeke,” I hear from Cora’s mouth.

  She’s a whore, always trying to fuck Zeke.

  “Remove your hands,” his voice is stern. I smile and walk around the corner. Her eyes shoot to mine, and she drops her hands smirking at me. Zeke doesn’t say a word as he walks past her to head into his office.

  I live here with Zeke, his house is beautiful. It consists of three bedrooms and a beautiful outdoor area with a patio and pool. It overlooks the ocean and it’s breathtaking. I walk to the kitchen not even bothering to give Cora the time of day, but she smiles at me. I don’t return it. She must think I’m completely blonde. I know she wants Zeke. Fuck, most women do. I see it all the time. He never gives them the time of day though, and that always makes me smile.

  I pour Zeke and myself a cup of coffee and once it’s ready, I take it into his office. Because today is Friday, he usually doesn’t work all day, though today looks different. As soon as I step in, my eyes find him sitting at his desk clicking madly on the mouse at the computer. His eyes shoot to mine when I close the door behind me. They roam up and down and then without a second glance, he goes straight back to what he was doing on the computer. I walk so I'm standing next to him and place his coffee on the table.

  “I’m going out,” I say, wanting some kind of reaction. Possibly telling me to stay with him as my hopes are high. When he answers, his eyes don’t look to me.

  “Good, I have plans,” he says, dismissing me. I look to him one more time before I head out. I wonder if I should just leave, and if I left for long would he even notice? I highly doubt it.

  As I walk from the office, I see Cora sitting at her desk in front of his office. She’s his receptionist. She looks up at me and once again I don’t acknowledge her. I’ve heard her sly remarks about me several times before. She’s someone I never want to get to know on a deeper level. As I move away from his office, which is also linked to the front entry so his clients won’t wander through the house, I make my way to the kitchen to grab my purse from the bench deciding I’m going shopping. I need to clear my head.

  I meet Ember at the local shopping center and she smiles when she sees me, embracing me in a hug and pulls back to look at me. Ember is beautiful, her mother is Pilipino and her father is American. She has long, dark, straight hair and a perfect figure. Me, well, my hair is blonde and cut short in a bob that shapes around my face.

  “What’s wrong, babe? That man of yours didn’t fulfill his duties this morning?” she asks with a wink, dragging me along as she starts to walk to the closest shops. She doesn’t wait for me to answer as she starts throwing dresses at me. She’s gifted when it comes to clothes. I guess that’s also a part of her job, though. She dresses the stars; picks their clothes for the important occasions. Obviously not all, though the list she dresses is quite impressive. And I must admit, sometimes has me jealous.

  “I’ve decided, that we’re going out tonight. I need a drink and possibly a fuck,” she says emphasizing it by thrusting her hips. She’s so different, and I love her for that. She doesn’t know much about Zeke. She knows him and what he wants to show the world which, of course, isn’t much.

  “Where are we going?” I ask carrying the dresses to the dressing room. She smiles at me. “Who the fuck cares!” And that’s the end of that.

  As I pull the dress up, there’s one that’s a lovely violet color and it brings back memories of when I first met Zeke. Why didn’t I say no?

  Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow.

  ~John Lennon~

  I’m a bad man, a dangerous man. I know this, and most who know me know this. I’m a private man as well; I try to keep my life confidential. Though it’s hard with a pixie floating around in my life. Bexley is beautiful, there’s no denying it, it’s one of the reasons I picked her. I knew I could fuck her day in and day out and n
ot get sick of seeing her face. She’s most men’s wet dream, I know this ‘cause she was mine. Then I had her, and my wet dream became a reality.

  The day before I met her, I’d just fucked a whore. Yes, a fucking whore. Not the ones you have to pay for, just someone that spreads their legs hoping to get into your back pocket. My father used to say there were three different types of women in the world. The shy girls, who lay still in the sack and just let you fuck them. Then there are the average girls, who aren’t quiet, but aren’t loud either. Then there are the whores, the loud ones that think they know what they want, and should get what they want. My father told me to always try for a girl who’s above average, that way I could have a whore in bed and a maintained girl on the outside.

  I think Bexley is that girl. She’s good, maybe too good for me, but I’m a selfish bastard and don’t want to let her go. I don’t need her, but a part of me wants her. I think she loves me, actually I’ve heard her say it when we’re asleep, even out loud. I don’t deserve her, I know it. But I won’t let her escape, she fills all my needs and I don’t have to go to anyone else. No one screams for me like she does; no one claws at my ass like she does.

  She isn’t nosey either and she knows not to ask questions about my work. Or ask when I’ll be home. She’s just there when I need her, needing her body. She’s every guy's dream.

  I watch as she walks from my office with a sway in her hips. I try to contain myself and not get up and bend her over my desk taking her from behind. I want to, but I can’t. I have a meeting soon, one that can’t be interrupted. She closes the door on her way out, not looking back. She’s trained well, and I sometimes wonder why she doesn’t question me. Why she is the way she is, but I never ask. I prefer to be blind to it all and stay in my bubble where she’s concerned. It’s easier that way.

  A knock sounds on my door and Cora pops her head in. “Dunker is here,” she says. I nod my head and watch as the Vice President of the HHard Knox MC walks in. He’s a massive man, about the same size as me, except he’s covered in ink from head to toe. I don’t think there’s a part of him that the end of a needle hasn’t met. His hair is cut short, and you can just make out that it’s been dyed blond. He nods his head and sits in the chair in front of my desk and kicks his boots up on to it. I like Dunker; he is a businessman, one that doesn’t fuck me around.