by Kim Linwood
He’s spoiled me for all other men.
Declan
“Just fucking do it already!”
“Are you sure?” Claire teases. “I mean, the marks from your ass are so clear and I just want to—”
I storm over and make the decision for her by running the roller over the oval marks I left on the wall during our little painting break, while Claire breaks down into a giggle fit. She looks adorable there on the floor, her red hair pulled up into a messy knot. She’s wearing nothing but her panties and my cotton undershirt.
My arms ache from using the roller, and I’m sick to death of the smell of paint, but right now all I want to do is pick her up and toss her onto my couch. It’s the only major piece of furniture we haven’t christened yet.
She sighs and stands up, her breasts swaying. “It’s a shame. I kinda liked seeing all the smudges.”
I run my thumb along the stripe I drew across her neck. Not every mark is gone yet. “Easy for you to say, I’m the one that would have to stare at my ass prints while trying to carry on a business conversation with my father.”
“Okay, but,” Claire breaks off her train of thought and lights up with a huge smile. “I have an idea, come over here.” She grabs my hand and pulls me to the corner where I first started kissing her. Kneeling down, she presses her thumb lightly against the paint right at the bottom above the molding. “Your turn.”
Ice trickles into my veins, and my instincts tell me to run the other way. To avoid this moment where sex morphs into sentiment. Michael and his video scream at me from the back of my mind, telling me that I need to separate, not get closer. I open my mouth to object, maybe find a way to turn it into a joke, but I can’t fucking do it.
Not when she’s looking at me like that. Like what we did mattered.
I must be out of my fume-scrambled mind, because I kneel down next to her, and cup her chin before taking another taste of those ruby lips. She responds instantly, leaning into my touch and opening to let me in. Her eyes open slowly as I pull away, watching quietly while I leave my thumb print smooshed up next to hers.
She looks at it and cocks her head. “I was thinking maybe we would cross them into a heart or something.”
“And then we could paint our nails and tell stories! Give me a break. I’m a man, not an eight year old girl. I have my limits.” I shrug. “You were the one that wanted ass cheeks on my wall. Now it looks like a smurf was getting busy in my office.”
She laughs and play slaps my shoulder.
It’s feeling like a good time to go in for another kiss, and maybe inventory all her paint marks one by one, but before I can make a move, her phone rings. Claire gets up and goes to check her purse. “Crap.”
“Everything alright?” Is it wrong to hope it’s her date for tonight calling, and he’s so pissed he never wants to see her again?
“Er... yeah, but I’ve got to take this and it’s private. Do you think...” She trails off, but I get the drift.
“Fine, yeah. Gimme a sec.” I throw my dress shirt on and start to button while she answers.
“Hello?” There’s a pause, and I hear the hint of a masculine voice on the other end. It’s gotta be a date. Fucker. He sounds annoyed, but instead of talking back like she would with me, she’s all sweet and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I got caught up at work and couldn’t get out of it.”
I open the door and slip out. I’m just about to close it behind me when Claire speaks. “No, I don’t want anyone to see it. I know, I should’ve called, but I was with my coworker the whole time. It was hard to get away. I’m not trying to get out of our deal, I swear.” Her voice takes on a tinge of desperation and it gets my hackles up.
I shouldn’t do it, but listening in on her phone call doesn’t even hit the top ten of shit I shouldn’t do, so I don’t let it bother me. I close the door almost, but not quite enough to mask her voice.
“No, it wasn’t him. I swear. I’ve been with... Carl. He’s one of the older attorneys here. Don’t be gross, he’s like my mom’s age.”
Carl the attorney? Well, that’s obviously bullshit. So who wouldn’t want to hear that she was with me? Michael the dickhead jumps to the top of the likely suspects, but why the hell would she even be talking to him?
“Fine. Wednesday, then,” she says with obvious resignation. “No, I won’t miss it. Yeah. Bye.” She hangs up and I hear her moving around in the office, and the pull of a zipper. I lean up against her desk and try to look bored when she peeks out the door.
“We’re pretty much done, right? I just need to clean up before I leave.”
“Sure, no problem. I can finish what’s left.” I push my way past her back into my office. “So was that your lucky date for the evening?”
Claire wrinkles her nose. “More of an obligation than a date. We rescheduled for Wednesday.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Oh yeah, tons.” She grimaces like she just bit into a lemon. “Alright, getting washed up.” She heads to the restrooms.
Her purse is gone, but there, on the edge of my desk is her cell phone, screen still bright. I grab it before it locks up, and quickly check the call log.
Bingo. Michael. That little shit is trying to scam both of us. Obviously. And the way things are going, I don’t think my keeping away is going to happen, which means I need to find another solution.
When Claire gets back, I don’t even try to railroad her into getting a drink or going back to my place. I’ve got plans now, and they involve finding out where ratboy lives, and having some serious words with him.
And by words, I mean my fist in his face.
Declan
The doorbell rings like the fucking Big Ben. Tacky as hell. I wait long enough for the melody to stop before I run out of patience and ring it again. He’d better be home, because I drove all the way here and I know his date got cancelled.
It would be rude of Mikey not to stick his face out so I can smash it.
It took a little detective work to figure out where he was living after getting kicked out of Claire’s old place, but I got his last name from his parents’ address. After that it was pretty easy. You don’t have to be Sherlock when you have the fucking internet at your fingertips, and a whole truckload of idiots publicly tweeting about where they are 24/7.
His townhouse looks like it’s seen better days. The red brick has a sickly gray tinge, and the windows have sheets hanging in them instead of curtains. No wonder he wants Claire back. After seeing their apartment, I wouldn’t want to live in this shithole either. He should’ve treated Claire better and not fucked around on her.
Of course, then I wouldn’t be fucking her, so maybe I should thank him instead.
I crack my knuckles and change tactics, banging loudly on the door instead.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Jesus, what’s the hurry?” It’s Michael’s voice all right. Muffled through the door, but I recognize his whiny tone.
I move a little to the side in case he has a peep hole. He clicks open the locks, and I’m already feeling the adrenaline kicking in. Every muscle in my body is tight and ready to spring.
The door opens with a creak. “What the hell’s so import—” He sees my face and immediately slams the door.
Or tries to anyway.
Stabbing my foot out, I brace it against the door while I pivot the rest of my weight over and into it. It flies open, knocking Michael back onto his ass so hard he bounces.
He shrieks while putting his arms up to cover his face. His words are rushed and panicked. “Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me!”
My lip curls up in disgust. I slam the door so we aren’t disturbed, and bat his hands aside so I can get a good grip on the front of his shirt. I haul him to his feet and shove him up against the wall with a satisfying thump. He grunts in pain, and I happily admit that the sound makes me feel a little better already.
“Alright, you little worm. I’ve decided to present a counteroffer to your shitty blackmail
attempt. Are you ready to hear it, or do I need to get persuasive?” My grin is feral, deathly serious and probably ugly as hell.
Eyes wide open, he shakes his head so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t pull his neck in the process. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d never—”
I cut him off by slamming him back into the wall. “Don’t play dumb. I’m here because you couldn’t settle for just being a regular jackass. You had to go above and beyond, so I’m returning the favor.”
“Shit! Don’t hurt me!” He seems to rally a little and struggles.
“Well, that depends on you now, doesn’t it? Paying attention?” I put a hand around his throat, pinning his head back to the wall.
He gasps for air. I’m not holding him hard enough to really choke, but it’s enough to freak him out. “Fuck! Yes. Yes!”
“Good.” I give him a little squeeze with my fingers. “This blackmailing shit is done. Now. Got it? You’re never going to come anywhere close to Claire again, or me for that matter. You make my fucking skin crawl.”
I’m not proud of how good it feels to scare the shit out of this guy. It’s tempting to press harder, until his red face turns purple. I will my fingers to relax before I give in to the temptation.
He jumps on it the second he thinks I’m backing down. “I make your skin crawl? Big words coming from a creep fucking his sister. How do you think that’s going to fly with the folks? You think you’re some big shot, saving Claire from a sleaze like me?” Michael cackles, looking me right in the eyes. “Guys like you move from girl to girl like fucking trophies. Yeah, I screwed up and I’m paying for it, but you? You’re worse. It’s just a matter of time before you get bored and move on to the next warm hole. Guess who’s going to be the shithead then, tough guy. This is all going to blow up in your fucking face.”
I slam him again, my grin widening at his pained grunt. “Mind your own fucking business and let me deal with that. I’m nothing like you.”
He lunges out so fast with his leg that he catches me off guard, straight into my balls.
Oh. My. Fucking. God, that hurts.
I stagger only a moment, but it’s enough for him to wrench free and dive for his bedroom door. Gritting my teeth, I follow, but he manages to get inside and slam the door shut, followed by a soft click. I grasp the door and shake it, but it doesn’t budge.
Locked.
“Michael,” I yell, shoving down the nausea that’s churning in my gut. I was only going to scare him. Now I’m gonna fucking kill him. “You’re only making this worse for yourself. I will kill you.”
He yells back at me through the door, “If you get out of here now, I’ll forget this ever happened. I’ll give you this one chance. But if I ever hear or see you near me or Claire again, that video is going out to everyone she has ever known.”
Fuck that shit. I back up a few steps before charging, leading with my shoulder. I slam into the door so hard the hinges creak and rattle as the cheap-ass frame pulls away from the wall.
“That’s it! I’m calling the police. I’m dialing 91-fucking-1 right now. Is this what you want? You’re going to jail, motherfucker.” His voice cracks.
I take a step back and look around. There, on the glass coffee table. “Hey Michael, this isn’t your phone out here, is it?”
“It’s—it’s my backup. The real one’s in here, and I’m dialing right—”
I slam into the door again, and this time the hinges come so loose that it’s hardly more than a push needed to knock it over.
He screams in terror. “For fuck’s sake, you’re insane!”
Am I? I feel a little crazy, and I let it all shine out as I step towards him, ready to pounce. “Do we have a deal, or no? Please say no. This is fun.” There’s nothing I want more than to beat him to a pulp, but the important thing is that he leaves Claire alone.
I’d also prefer to stay out of jail, but the more out of control he thinks I am, the easier it is to intimidate him.
“Fine! Yes! For God’s sake, just leave me alone.” The defeat in his voice is sweet music to my ears.
“Your date’s off. Our parents are getting married on Sunday, and the last thing Claire needs is to worry about you fucking up her life.” I draw a deep breath. “You lost, needledick. Now call her, I’m not leaving until I hear you do it.”
“I’ll call her.”
“Now! I want to hear you grovel.”
There’s a pause, just long enough to make me wonder if he’s going to be smart and do it, or if I’m going to have to get physical again.
“Fine. Alright. I’ll call now, but I need my phone,” he whines as he pulls himself off the floor.
Right. I turn towards the table, and I’m just picking the phone up when I hear a suspicious noise behind me. I whirl in time to see him come charging at me with a fucking baseball bat clutched over his head.
Seriously?
Dodging to the side, I get out of the way just fast enough to avoid getting brained. Instead, the bat continues down until it slams into the table, shattering the glass top with a loud crash. Shards fly everywhere, covering the cheap rug and spattering onto his couch and recliner. Good luck cleaning those out later.
He roars, ignoring the damage and coming after me again. This time, I’m ready. When he pulls back for a side swing, I charge him, hooking my arms under his and carrying him forward into a full tackle onto the floor. He screams as he lands, and I hope to fucking God he got some of those glass shards digging into his back.
The bat rattles over the floor, and my fist meets his face, pounding his head into the floor before he has a chance to go for it. My heart’s pounding like a fucking jackhammer, pumping blood through my veins so hard it hurts, but his eyes are wild and unfocused and I don’t want to do permanent damage, so I let it go with the one punch. I jump off him and grab the bat, hefting it like I’m about to swing. “Don’t you fucking get up, or I’m going to score a fucking home run with your balls.”
He’s up on his elbows, but he drops back down to the floor. “I’ll call her,” he wheezes. There’s a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and when he exhales a little spit bubble carries more with it. “I’ll call her.”
“That’s right. Right fucking now. And if I hear anything more from you after that, I’ll be back to play ball. Got it? Claire had better be smiling when she comes in to work tomorrow.” I shake the bat at him threateningly, and he immediately curls up, protecting his nuts. Smart man.
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me like I’m a wild animal, breath wheezing out of him. He’s done. He knows I know where to find him now.
“Come on. I don’t have all fucking day.” I dropped the phone when he jumped me, but it looks okay. I gesture at it with the bat. “Pick it up. Speaker phone.”
He dials with shaking fingers, and then we both listen in silence while it rings. On the third one, she picks up. “Michael? I said I was sorry about tonight. Is everything still okay for Wednesday?” Her voice is fucking music to my ears, but the nervous sound in her voice makes me feel like I let him off easy.
“Uh... hey. Actually, about that...” His voice quavers and he keeps glancing my way before looking back down. I gesture at him to get on with it.
“What is it? I’m doing what you wanted.”
“Listen, I—Well, I’m calling it off.” He swallows deeply.
“Do you need to reschedule?”
“No, I mean the whole thing. I’ve changed my mind.” He draws a deep breath, forcing the words out. “I met someone else, so there’s no point.”
“Are you serious? You wanted this badly enough to threaten my whole life and now... you don’t care?” She sounds shocked and pissed off. “Because you met somebody.”
“Yeah. Love at first sight or whatever. You’re free.” He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, scowling when I blow him a kiss. “I won’t bother you again.”
“And you’re going to get rid of that video? For real this time?”
<
br /> “I swear.”
“I don’t know what changed your mind, but thank you.” She sounds relieved, but suspicious. I can’t say that I blame her. “Well, I guess, goodbye then.”
“Yeah. Goodbye.” Michael’s voice sounds dead. Completely void of emotions. He stands up and looks at me, his eyes hard. “Happy? I did like you asked.”
“I’m not going to be fucking happy until I’ve brained you with this thing.” I shake the bat at him and he scuttles away from me.
“Jesus Christ! I did what you told me to. Just get the hell out of here.”
“Now, I know that making you delete the video while I watch doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Who knows how many copies you’ve got squirreled away? But if I ever hear anything about you bothering Claire again, I will be back. And then I won’t stop. Got it?”
“I’m not an idiot, so yeah.” He shakes his head and brushes glass off his sleeves. “I get it, you’re bigger and stronger, but you’re no better than I am. We’re both using her, but at least I was offering her more than a cheap fuck and a screwed up family tree.”
It would be so tempting to swing this bat. I can feel it, the muscles in my shoulder drawing it back and letting it sail forward until it wipes him from existence. I don’t, because he’s not worth it.
But I do swing and let it sail right past him, getting a sick sort of pleasure out of the look on his face when he thinks it’s all over, and the dark spot that grows slowly down the leg of his pants.
I’m nothing like him.
And if I keep telling myself that long enough, it might even be true.
Claire
“What's the difference between a lawyer and a leech?” Carl peers at me from behind the reception counter, waiting for my answer while chewing his cruller.
I munch on mine while I think. This breakfast ritual is hell on my waistline, but today I feel like celebrating. My diet can start tomorrow. Or maybe next week. I shrug. “No idea.”
“After you die, a leech stops sucking your blood,” Carl finishes with his best vampire impersonation.
