Jag (Pandemic Sorrow #1)

by Stevie J. Cole

  “You better learn to cry,” he said, and flicked the lighter again.

  I watched the flame spark to life and heat the end of the pipe, slowly making it glow a light orange under the blue flame. Bill’s eyes shot back up at me. “It’s the only thing that’ll save you sometimes.” He flipped my arm over, then growled, “Cry and wake your daddy up.”

  I tried jerking my arm free, but his grip just tightened. I focused on his hands. They were tan and leathery. Dirt and filth were caked underneath his nicotine-yellowed nails, and grime had settled into the ridges of his knuckles.

  “Cause if this won’t make you cry,” he pressed the searing metal over my arm again, and I winced silently, “what I’mma do to you later sure as hell will.”

  I closed my eyes, pretending I was dreaming. I had become well-versed at pretending most of my life had been a nightmare. A terrible fucking nightmare. My dreams were my reality, my reality a nightmare. I’d convinced myself of that because I was certain there was no way in hell someone my age could have had so much terrible shit happen to them.

  Bill grabbed me by the nape of my neck and pulled me up from the floor. I let loose of the Cabbage Patch doll I’d been clinging to for dear life and it fell to the floor, the sudden thud causing the roach that was creeping across my plate of Spaghetti-o’s to scurry back toward the crack in the wall. “Come on, girl. I’ll show you how much crying can save you.”

  Just then the constant bubbling sound of our kitchen was interrupted by the tinker of dishes rattling. The flimsy floors shook underneath Sean’s heavy steps, and in with him wafted the sulfurous smell of meth cooking.

  “Leave her alone!” Sean growled.

  My eyes widened and I stared at Sean’s face. It was red and sweaty. I wasn’t sure if it was from anger, or from the heat of the pot he’d been standing over, waiting for the rocks to form.

  Bill laughed, then wiped his free hand over his cracked white lips. “What the fuck you gonna do, boy?”

  Sean widened his stance. His nostrils flared and his lips twitched. “Put her down.”

  Bill turned to carry me down the hall and I let out a whimper. I heard a growl come from behind me, followed by a loud crack, and the feeling of warm liquid flew against my cheeks. Bill let out a gasp and stumbled, his hold on me loosening as we tumbled forward. Slamming against the floor, I closed my eyes again and laid completely still.

  “Roxy. Roxy? Come on. Get up.” Sean’s voice was trembling and Layla was screeching.

  I opened one eye and saw my father still lying motionless on the couch and snoring. Then I turned my head to look at Bill and immediately hyperventilated. His head was split open. His scalp loose and meat flapping over the top of his head, blood pouring down his skull and pooling on the floor underneath my arm. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move – I was honestly paralyzed with fear.

  Sean let go of the crow bar he was holding and grabbed me, jerking me up. “Come on, Rox. I got to get that blood off your face.” He reached down and picked Layla up, trying to shush her as he jostled her on his hip. “It’s okay, Layla-bug. It’s okay. Shhh.”

  He drug me into the kitchen and sat Layla in the floor so he could turn the stove off. He moved the pot away from the eye, grabbed a box of Cheerios, and started to hand them to Layla, but stopped. “Shit. It’s all over her too.” He glanced around and pulled one of the worn wooden chairs up to the sink. “Sit down.” Sean leaned over and grabbed Layla, then set her in my lap.

  “I want Cheerios!” Layla demanded.

  “I know, bug. But I got to clean that nasty stuff off of you first. Don’t put your hands in your mouth. Okay?”

  Layla looked down at her hands. “You mean the blood?”

  “Yeah,” Sean sighed. “Yeah, the blood.”

  He looked worried as he grabbed a paper towel and ran it under the water. “Shit. I hope he didn’t have AIDS or something,” he whispered as he wiped the blood from mine and Layla’s cheeks. He’d just murdered a drug dealer, and all he was worried about was whether the blood we were covered in carried HIV. Growing up in the “bad part of town,” cooking meth for your drugged-out father to sell – that made you hard, even if you were only thirteen, ten, and five.

  As he cleaned me up, I stared at him. Tiny splatters of blood were all over his face, his neck, his Ren and Stimpy t-shirt. He was my brother. He was my hero. He always had been and always would be. He kept me safe. He took care of me. And he was the only person that loved me. The only person I’d ever let myself love because I knew he’d never, ever hurt me.

  Slamming the door to my car, I ran toward his door. My heart was hammering in my chest, skipping in uneven, terrified beats. I didn’t bother with banging on the door. When I put my key in the lock, that click echoed through my ears. From that moment on everything was in slow motion. Still is as I recall it – every time I recall it I feel like it’s a movie about someone else’s life, but unfortunately it’s my memory. The worst memory of my life.

  Never Me by Kate Stewart

  Partial excerpt from chapter one

  Prologue

  I was a thief of men … a whore.

  Not the conventional type that got paid for sex. I was the girl you talked about in your sad inner circle. The girl you shielded your boyfriend from as you cleverly covered him with your body when I came near.

  I was a threat to you. I dressed like sex. I knew how to get the attention of any wandering eye. I saw how hard you tried to keep his eyes from me. But they were … on me, filled with longing and curiosity. Keeping him safe in your grasp was smart. I would happily sleep with him if given the chance. It’s not that I wanted to out of spite to hurt you. Half of you would not ever know my motive or catch on. It’s that I needed to do it. I needed to see that want in his eyes—the kind of lust and need you only see in a man’s eyes the first time they had you. It was perfection. It was lust. It had nothing to do with love. It was animalistic and I made sure they brought their A-game.

  Every.

  Single.

  Time.

  It would never be better than the first time. No, I didn’t have daddy issues. I loved my father, though he was no saint himself. He showed me the ropes. I took my best cues from him, though he was unaware. It was simple. I loved sex and I loved men. It wasn’t an addiction. It wasn’t a hobby. I wanted what wasn’t mine. No, I wanted to borrow what wasn’t mine. I gave him back to you and you were never the wiser. I was that whore.

  If your man glanced my way, I was going to thank him with my own personal brand of gratitude. I would let him take me the way he wanted. When he was done, I gladly returned him to you. He may have asked to see me again, but I would never do it.

  They all came to me willingly.

  Every.

  Single.

  One.

  I simply extend the invitation.

  Chapter 1

  Summer 2005

  I had just spent the last few minutes scoping out my next invitation at the laundry-mat. He had been begging for any crumb of attention his object of affection would show him. He was hungry. I could tell by the way he was groping his girlfriend and looked at her as she playfully ignored him as she tended to her clothes. His eyes roamed her body with longing. She was petite with perfectly cropped brown hair and matching brown eyes. He slid his hands around her waist and she gave him a quick smile, then scolded him and removed his hands before resuming her duties. He was tall with dark blond hair and eyes I could not tell the color of, a jock’s build with half hidden tattoos under his white t-shirt. He was hungry … and he needed my help. His hair was longer than business cut and it turned me on like no other. He attempted again to ease her into him with his hands on her shoulders and she once again refused his advances.

  Time for the invitation.

  I took a pair of my best panties out of the washer and put the rest of my clothes into dry. I casually walked their way with my wet panties cupped in one hand and some change for the drink machine—that was directly behin
d them—in the other. I purposely caught his eyes and he smiled. He was still behind his girlfriend, taunting her with his hands. I licked my lips then gave him a broad smile in return. His jaw tightened and he wrapped his arms around her again, this time achingly slow as he burned a hole through me.

  Hook.

  I turned to give all my attention to the machine, as if it was more interesting, and could feel his stare. I quickly glanced back and saw I had his full attention. Showtime.

  I put the quarters in the machine as I scratched at an imaginary itch on my thigh, just below the hem of my red and black checkered mini-skirt. I continued to scratch at it until fake curiosity brought my gaze down to the unaffected area and lifted my skirt up further to inspect. Two seconds. A quick peripheral glance told me I still had him.

  Line.

  That was all it took and my skirt was back down. I pushed the button for a Coke and stood back. Instead of bending at the knee like a lady, I bent over completely so he could see I had nothing on. I hooked my undies with my finger so he could eye them and brought them with me to the restroom to slide them on. I coolly walked back out, popping the top of my soda. When I looked back at my prey, he was no longer engaged in playful musings with his love. He was now sitting behind her as she chatted him up, his eyes hooded and on me. I had him.

  I gave him an innocent smile and turned back to my task. I spent the next twenty minutes of my time ignoring him completely. I folded my clothes neatly and made my way to the exit ‘accidentally’ dropping my entire basket as I opened the door. Two seconds later he was there helping me.

  “I’ve got it, really. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he said, eyeing my legs. He grabbed a few of my tees and put them back in for me, then lifted the basket up as he held the door open.

  “Jace, that was nice of you. Take it to her car,” I heard his girlfriend sound off as she smiled at me.

  “Thanks.” I smiled back at the girl who had just unknowingly given me permission.

  “You are so lucky to have a guy in your life.”

  “Yeah, he’s the best.” She cooed at him from where she was standing.

  We made our way to my car and I opened the trunk.

  “Quite a show you put on back there,” he said gruffly.

  “You see something you like?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  “Here,” I said, slipping him a matchbook I kept handy. It was to a pub that was three minutes from my front door. “Meet me here at nine tonight. I won’t wait a minute past.”

  “I can’t just—”

  “You can and you will. Won’t you … Jace?” I licked my lips again and gave him a once over, slowly taking in his body, imagining all the possibilities before briefly closing my eyes. I took the basket out of his hands and set it in my trunk and met his shocked eyes and gaping mouth. They were brown. Not my favorite color, but they would do.

  “Nine, Jace. I wouldn’t test me,” I reiterated and closed my trunk, forcing him to jump back out of his daze. I could tell the wheels were turning. He was considering it. Maybe this one would surprise me and not show. I gave him one more courteous smile as I rounded my car to make our word exchange seem casual to his girlfriend’s watchful eye, then jumped in my driver’s seat as he walked back inside.

  Sinker.

  “Yeah, see you tonight, Jace.” I laughed out loud as I started the car and felt the cool air hit me. I did not care that he was with the girl he would probably marry. He looked at her like he loved her, which is not the look I wanted. The look I wanted I would get tonight and all I had done to get it was the simple task of laundry.

  ****

  At nine on the dot I walked inside to find Jace waiting for me. I waved a quick hello to the bartender, Kyle, who knew me well. He nodded at Jace, knowing he was my next conquest. I gave him a nod in return and he shook his head in mild amusement. Jace was dressed up from what he had worn at the laundry-mat. I gave him my best smile and nonchalantly walked his way. Like all his predecessors, he looked around nervously, unsure of what he was doing.

  “It’ll be okay, Jace. I won’t tell,” I reassured him as I slid onto the barstool next to him.

  “Drink?” he asked politely, still unsure if he should be there. His shirt was a blue button down with the cuffs rolled on each side. His jeans clung to him in all the right places. I had done well for myself today. I may have a loose libido, but I still handpicked each invite and gave a second inspection at our one and only meeting. I had walked away several times, but not tonight. Jace was an exceptional find. He had a coiling snake tattoo running up his right arm that was full of color and I found it sexy as hell. His smile, though unsure, was beautiful and his teeth were a solid white. He was clean. I never did dirty.

  I had to ease his nerves and get some banter going if I was going to bring his best game out of him. This was his first time cheating on Ms. Cropped Hair and I could tell.

  “I’ll leave the drink up to you,” I said, lowering my eyes. I patted his thigh and grazed my hand over his crotch—just barely—to get him started. This was going to be easy, but I preferred if they came with more confidence. He was instantly hard. Poor thing, he was starving.

  “Looks like you could skip your drink, Jace,” I whispered, studying the hard line in his pants.

  “No,” he said, giving me the look I knew was made for men; the look that said ‘I am going to tear your ass up.’ The look I craved. The look I needed daily.

  I had to ask the question I always did. “What are you thinking?”

  “Tequila.” I stifled the disappointed look I felt until he surprised me. “Then making you raw.”

  Now you are talking, Jace.

  “Patron,” I smiled playfully, grabbing a lime from the condiment tray next to us on the bar, sucking it dry.

  We took three shots as our eyes sized each other up in anticipation. A few lines of small talk and I was over it. I had no desire to know more than his name, and even that wasn’t necessary. I gave him the come hither index finger as I grabbed my clutch. Tonight I was in snug fitting jeans that hugged my ass and long legs perfectly, a strapless black halter top that showed a huge amount of cleavage and expensive red high heels that I stole from my neighbor, Rory. She wouldn’t mind. I would put them back before she noticed. I had the darkest shade of red lipstick on and I put my shoulder length auburn hair in a sharp ponytail so he could see as much exposed skin as possible. I made it to the stairs of my apartment around the corner without saying a word to him. He stayed a few steps behind me for one of two reasons. Either he was rethinking the whole situation, or he was thinking of ways to make me scream. This made me smile as I turned to look back at him. He did not return it.

  “What is it with you?”

  I froze at my bottom step. “Sorry?”

  “You just offer me sex, no strings, nothing more, knowing I have a girlfriend and you still don’t care?”

  “You already had time to think about this, Jace. I’m not going to try and convince you of anything.”

  “I’m not backing out. I just want to know … why?”

  “Let’s just say it’s the way I’m built.”

  “Like a man?”

  I turned to him with a small seductive smile and said, “Definitely not.”

  I leaned in, towering over him standing on the first step.

  “Can I at least know your name?”

  “Nadine.”

  “God, that’s beautiful. You are so beautiful.”

  “I’m also a sure thing. Save the compliments.”

  “Wow.” He grinned at me now, his eyes still incredulous.

  I gave him another small smile and leaned in closer, grazing my hand over the evident bulge in his pants, moving my fingers slowly back and forth. I heard his sharp intake of breath as he stared at me. I wanted the look. It was not there yet. I undid his fly, looking around to make sure my display went unnoticed. He placed his hands on each of the hand rails of the staircase. I saw his smirk disappe
ar as I took him in my grasp, firmly stroking him as I watched his eyes dilate. He looked around in a daze, as if what was happening was not real, before finding my eyes again. There it was.

  I carefully tucked his hard length back into his pants and ascended the stairs slowly, hearing him zip his fly and follow, his steps echoing each one of mine. He was so close I could feel his chest on my back at my front door. He turned me quickly and leaned in to kiss me. I took his mouth just in time to meet his tongue, feeling it glide across my teeth and reach deep into my mouth. He was good with that tongue, and I was ready to put it to use.

  “God, you taste good,” he whispered after releasing me so I could get my key into my door.

  I made it three steps in when he grabbed me by the waist, bringing me flush to him, grinding his hardness into my back.

  “Not yet.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Hell no.” He turned me to him and his lips found mine again, this time more greedy, less friendly. I wanted hostile and I was not about to settle until I saw I was going to get it. I pressed against his chest and he released me, the bulge in his pants more obvious, an intrigued and confused look on his face. I loved the way he towered over me. Tall men were my favorite; I loved feeling small next to them as I made them beg for it.

  Rescue Breathing by Zoe Norman

  The Breathe Series – Book One

  CHAPTER ONE

  Olivia

  “There is a time in every woman’s life when she needs to just walk away. This, Olivia, is that time.”

  That lovely quote comes directly from the mouth of my best friend, Charley, over the phone and across the country. She is giving me her version of a pep talk, which I am grateful is not currently including a stream of expletives directed at my ex, Jay.

  About nine months ago, I found out he was not just cheating. Nope, that would have been too easy. In fact, at this point in my life, I would pay someone to turn the hands of time back and make it that easy. No, Jay provided me with a much more interesting betrayal. Wait for it. He was married. With kids. The whole time we were dating. All three years of it.