Pursuit: A Bad Boy Romance

by Cristal Pierre

  "Holy. Fucking. Shit." I wrapped my arms around Ty's shoulders as he lay down on top of me, still inside of me, my legs around his hips. I kissed the side of his face, feeling weak and sleepy. "That was so fucking good."

  "Yeah," Ty agreed, kissing my temple. "I'm glad it was good for you."

  "Are you for real?" I asked, incredulous that a man could be so considerate of a woman's pleasure! It was unheard of, as far as I knew.

  "Huh?"

  "I'm just... not used to... well, I mean... I've never... I've never had an orgasm with a guy before."

  Ty looked at me curiously. "Are you okay?"

  I struggled to summon some words. "I've never been with a guy who took such good care of me. I mean, I don't think Brad even knows where the clitoris is. And you're so... sweet, and gentle... you make me feel so... I feel safe with you, Ty, and— Ty!" My jaw dropped as Ty bent his head, his face painted with emotion, and I could have sworn he was crying as he buried his face in the pillow beside my head. My heart wrenched as I wrapped my arms around his body. He trembled and wept, struggling to regain control. I was at a loss again, and it felt wrong to try to say anything, so I just held his strong, muscular body in my arms as he cried. I rubbed my hand soothingly across his naked back and kissed his neck, but this only made him weep harder. It was a little unsettling to see the stoic Ty break down like this right after we'd just had the most amazing sex of my life, but I couldn't help but feel protective of him. I felt bad for him. He wept with such pain, such intensity, even though he restrained himself as best he could, his face was flushed and he was hiccuping with sobs. I caressed the back of his head and his arms tightened around me. Suddenly he wasn't just weeping near me, he wept into me, clinging to me, shaking, his tears warm as they soaked my skin.

  At last, his sobs abated, leaving him panting and stricken. At last, I gathered the courage to ask, "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

  "I'm sorry," he said thickly, grabbing a tissue off the nightstand to wipe his face and nose. His cheeks burned with shame. He started to climb off me, trying to get off the bed, but I stopped him, holding his arms in place. He looked away from me in shame, desperate to escape and yet, unwilling to fight me. "Sorry," he mumbled, "that was— that was so—"

  "It was vulnerable," I said, cupping his face in my hand. "Vulnerability doesn't scare me, Ty. What's bothering you, babe? Whatever it is, you can tell me, it won't leave this room. I just want you to feel better. I can tell you've been holding something in for a long time."

  My heart twinged as Ty's chin quivered a little, his body threatening to betray him into weeping again. This time, however, Ty won the struggle, though his eyes still shined with unshed tears. He slowly pulled away from, as we'd been entwined this whole time, and lay down on the bed, gathering the covers in his hand. He motioned for me to lay with him, and my head pillowed on his chest with both his strong arms cradling me. I could hear his heartbeat, fast and erratic, as he sorted through his own tangled thoughts and feelings, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. At last, he drew a deep breath and let it out in a tremulous sigh.

  "I haven't... I haven't been with a girl since— I mean, I have, but not like with you— since..." Ty closed his eyes to maintain his composure. "It's hard to talk about, Candy. I don't do feelings."

  "You can do feelings with me," I said gently, running my hand over his reassuringly solid pecs and abs. "I'm not going anywhere, babe."

  Almost as if it were just waiting for permission, the dam that held everything back, that made Ty's unflappable stoicism possible, broke. In a rush of breath he said, "I loved a girl, we were together for three years, we were practically married, but never officially, ya know? She was real small and frail, like you and you remind me of her so much, but I was a different person back then. This was years ago, I drank too much all the time, and I used to fly off the handle at her sometimes and I never hit her, but I would yell sometimes and be mean and she would cry, and I felt like a fuckin' monster. But I was outta control, ya know, with the booze, so when you said you feel safe—" Ty choked and shut his eyes tight. I could tell he wasn't finished, so I let the silence stretch on.

  "She died because of me," he whispered after a while. "I... I couldn't keep her safe. I was drunk. She got into a fight with a guy from the Wildcats and I shoulda stopped her, ya know, I shoulda been there for her and I shoulda stabbed the guy before he got to her, but she pulled her knife on him. She was tiny, but she was a fuckin' little spitfire and she wasn't scared of anything. This guy was three times her size, but she fought him all the same, in my own goddamn bar. I was right there, I was right there, passed out in a corner, pissing myself, and when I woke up she was lyin' on the floor—" He choked again and sat up abruptly, covering his face with his hands. I sat beside him, keeping my arm around his shoulders, practically holding my breath as he continued. "I was too drunk to know she was hurt so bad. He'd knocked her out, pistol-whipped her all over her skull. I-I—... I thought maybe she was drunk, too, but I found out later she had a bad concussion. She was in a lotta pain. She woke up, and I took her home and gave her a couple shots of vodka. We went to bed and passed out together and in the morning—" His voice rose and cracked. He shuddered. "Dead. Right next to me in bed."

  "Oh, Ty," I whispered, rubbing his back, "I'm so sorry..."

  "Shoulda been me that died," he muttered, burying his face in his arms. "The pillow had turned pink cause her brain fluid leaked out her nose during the night. Mixed with a little blood."

  "Jesus..."

  "I coulda saved her, if I wasn't such a fuckin' drunk-ass loser—"

  "It wasn't your fault—" I started to say, but he snarled at me and jerked away from my touch.

  "You don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about! I practically murdered her! She died right beside me and I didn't even know it, I didn't even know, she was dead for hours—" His voice cracked again and he went quiet, drawing sharp, shuddering breaths, too exhausted, and too hurt, to even cry anymore. I gave him a minute, but then, stubbornly, put my arm around him again. He flinched but didn't pull away. I planted a kiss on his naked shoulder. We sat that way for a moment before I pulled him into a hug. He resisted me, but only to a point. I held him tight in my arms, speechless, kissing his hair to reassure him that I still cared for him. Eventually, we laid down together. I felt horrible for Ty, I empathized with the guilt he was carrying and I wished there was something I could do to make him feel better. But what in the hell could I do or even say? His girlfriend died beside him in bed and he blamed himself. Badly. Healing from that kind of pain was going to be an inside job on Ty's part, and all I could do was be there for him however I could.

  "Candy... sorry I broke down like that," he said after a while, taking my hand. He kissed my knuckles.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for," I said softly, looking up at his anguished face. I cupped his cheek earnestly. "I hear your pain, honey. I really do. I've never been through anything like that, but I've done some bad things myself. It's okay. Before I knew any of what you just told me, I knew that you're a good man who loves and cares for his family so much... I wish you could see yourself how I see you."

  "You don't know a damn thing about me," Ty muttered. "You have no idea what the guilt is like."

  "I might have more of a clue than you think," I said, suddenly feeling a bit defensive that Ty was trying to write me off. I knew it had nothing to do with me, but I was feeling pretty vulnerable, too, and it occurred to me, somewhere in my mind that if I shared some of my story with him, he might feel better. That was how it worked in my recovery group, anyway.

  "What do you mean?" He looked down at me with an unreadable expression. "You kill somebody?"

  "Well, no," I said, mentally adding Neither did you, but I didn't want to upset him again by arguing. "But... I was... troubled, for many years. I hurt a lot of people who didn't deserve it."

  "Oh." Ty pursed his lips. "What happened?"

  "Well..."

  CHAPTER E
IGHT

  Ty

  I had never really talked about Alice before. Not even with Justin. Back when it happened, my mind was on the brink, and I felt like if I talked about it, I would completely unhinge. But I could allow that to happen on account of my family, so I just kinda... repressed it. I drank and fought and fucked around until the pain was numb enough that I could ease up. Then, I just let the memories go. I buried them deep, forgetting about Alice and how I had killed her. I just shoved my emotions deep down inside me, refusing to ever deal with them.

  Until I met Candy, that is.

  She looked a lot like Alice, but what's more, Candy made me feel the way Alice used to make me feel. No other girl could ever do that. And the more time I spent around Candy, the more memories of Alice and bits of emotion floated to the surface. I fought them as best I could, but as we kissed in the kitchen like that, I could feel my control over my emotions slipping. Years of tightly binding my feelings so that I could look and act a certain way, started to unravel with each touch of our lips, each brush of her delicate fingers against my skin.

  She was like an angel.

  A delicate wisp of an angel, beautiful and perfect, emanating goodness, light, and gentleness. I felt awed by her presence and unworthy of her touch and I was almost afraid to keep kissing her. Afraid that I would hurt her, just like I hurt Alice. What if she was just too delicate for a scumbag like me? What if I broke her in half? I couldn't handle another losing another girl like Alice, I just couldn't.

  But I was also just a man and I had needs. I haven’t had a good fuck in like six months. I'd been so busy with the Gray Wolves and whatever. I couldn't deny, however, that Candy was exactly my type. I mean, I wasn't picky, I didn't discriminate, but because she was so small and vulnerable, Candy made me feel so protective and just... I don't know, it was hard to describe. She made me feel like a caveman. Like I had to protect her, feed her, take care of her... and fuck her.

  So I did.

  I wasn't proud of myself, honestly, because I was so afraid of hurting her, both emotionally and physically. I knew she was tiny, but when her clothes came off, she looked even smaller. I held her as carefully as I could, moving because I could tell she was a bit apprehensive, but eventually, I had to surrender to my lust for her. I abandoned my hesitation and just threw myself into making love to her, kissing her, making her gasp and squirm with pleasure, the way she deserved to feel. But even as I touched her clit and fucked her, and I knew she was enjoying herself, I still worried that I might hurt her. I worried that the feelings were too intense for her frail body, that she might just shake so hard she would come undone. I was past the point of no return, though, so I kept going, as slow and gentle as I could until we were both consumed by ecstasy.

  I lay down on top of her, supporting myself on my arms and knees, you know, covering her, protecting her, but still making sure I didn't squish her. She smelled so nice, like wild flowers and vanilla. Mentally, I was still obsessing over whether I would hurt her or not, you know, running my fingers through her hair and sort of praying that this didn't end up like Alice when she suddenly started talking about what a good guy I was. It was hard to listen to, honestly, because I felt like a monster most of the time, especially around Candy, who was as angelic as they come. Hearing her talk about me being "sweet" and "gentle" made me want to run screaming from the room because it wasn't true. I felt like a phony, I wanted to tell her she was wrong when suddenly she uttered the "s-word."

  Safe.

  At that point, I couldn't even help it. Tears came to my eyes because I felt like I couldn't even keep my kid brother safe, so obviously whatever Candy saw in me, was a lie. I couldn't even keep Alice safe. Deeper and deeper my brain spiralled as that word echoed in my mind in Candy's sweet little voice, Safe, safe, safe, safe, and before I even knew what was happening, I was blubbering all over her shoulder and telling her things that I had never so much as uttered to another soul since I had filed the police report all those years ago.

  By the time I was done telling her the story, it felt like someone had ripped open my chest with a giant rusty sword. I was exhausted, and my chest was aching and heavy. I was at war with myself, part of me wanting to run from the room and from the house and disappear forever. The other part of me, however, was deeply comforted and relieved to have shared story with her. And Candy was still there, still holding me, still trying to soothe me with her gentle touch. How was it possible for me to feel so gentle towards her and yet, so angry? I was mad at her for making me feel vulnerable, for drawing out this horrible experience. I mean, I was gonna take that shit to my grave, and now this chick knew all about it. I snapped at her when I didn't mean to. She didn't deserve to be snapped at just for being herself, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but here we were. Inside my head, I was screaming at myself to shut up while my mouth ran and told Candy she didn't have a fucking clue— because she really didn't. But then again, she was only trying to help, why couldn't I just let her? I told her she had no idea what the guilt was like for me because she'd never killed anyone.

  "Well, no," she agreed. "But... I was... troubled, for a lot of years. I hurt a lot of people who didn't deserve it."

  "Oh," I said more coldly than I intended. "What happened?"

  "Well..." Candy shifted in bed and sighed, avoiding my eyes. She grasped the edge of the covers almost nervously and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

  "When I was a kid, my parents weren't really... I don't know how to describe it. They didn't show much love. Affection, you know? I barely know my father, even though we’ve always lived together. And my mother, well… She was always kind of distant and critical of me. I didn't get a lot of hugs, no one ever said they loved me or were proud of me, so I grew up kind of... broken, in a way. I never felt like I was good enough for anything or anyone. In grade school, I was a major over-achiever, trying to get noticed by teachers and classmates alike, but..." Candy sighed. "I got good grades, but never the love I so desperately wanted. My teachers couldn't be a substitute for my folks. It wasn't their job. So my freshman year of high school, I just... stopped trying. I stopped caring. I started looking for love elsewhere, you know, friends, cliques, and stuff. I was too nerdy to be popular and too boring to be an art student, so I fell in with a group of, like, punks and druggies. At first, it was just a joint here and there before school, then we got high before and after school every day. As we got older, we started doing harder shit and before I knew it, I was a heroin addict."

  "Jesus."

  "Yeah. And I could tell my life was completely out of control, so at the same time, I developed an eating disorder that made me feel like I was in control. I would shoot up in the morning and didn't even bother going to class most days. We'd get high and wander around, smoke cigarettes, have sex… I'd go for days without eating, too, figuring if I had a beer here and there, that would be enough to keep me going. You don't notice how weak you are when you're strung out. All that matters is getting your next fix. My weight dropped to like seventy pounds and if I went more than a few hours without shooting up, I'd get violently dope sick."

  "Shit, Candy..." I whispered, hugging her shoulders. She nuzzled her cheek against my chest.

  "When you're deep in an addiction like that, you do whatever you gotta do to get your next fix. And I was really sick and really weak, I couldn't work a proper job, so I resorted to other ways to get what I needed. I fucked drug dealers, I fucked older men for money. I stole from so many people— friends, my parents, relatives, I even stole from some of my teachers. I shoplifted booze because nobody suspects a little white girl of being a thief. I... I got away with so much shit, Ty, and because I kept getting away with it, I kept doing it. I would disappear for days at a time, my parents would have no idea where I was. I usually lied and said I was at a sleepover or something when I was really downtown, in a flophouse somewhere, having sex in exchange for cheap heroin or crack or whatever.” Candy paused for a momen
t as if to shake off the terrible thoughts these memories brought.

  "As you can probably guess, I couldn't keep that shit up forever without some consequences. My body started to give out before I ever got caught. I was hospitalized multiple time for various reasons— hypokalemia, heart problems, breathing problems, overdoses. When I was sixteen, I spent as much time in the hospital as out. I was dying, and didn't even care.”

  "I passed out at school one day. I don't even know why I was there, probably trying to score or something. I barely remember, honestly, cause it was so long ago and my brain wasn't working too good at the time. But I collapsed in the bathroom and one of the school guidance counselors, Mrs. Nealy, she... she found me. She brought me to the hospital and stayed with me, talked to me, told me she'd gone through some similar stuff and that she'd help me if I was willing to do the work. Well, I was miserable, I didn't care if I died. I had tried every drug under the sun and had starved myself into children's clothing sizes and I still wasn't happy, so I was willing to listen to her." Candy shrugged. "She helped me get into a twelve-step program, and I went to rehab for my eating disorder. I relapsed into it a bunch of times before college, but I've been clean from drugs and booze since I was seventeen."

  "Wow," was all I could mutter. It was a hell of a story, and definitely not one I expected from someone so sweet and angelic, but now that she said it... I could kind of see it. Honestly, I still didn't think it applied since Candy hadn't killed anyone the way I had killed Alice, but it did make me feel a little less monstrous.

  "So... I'm probably not as innocent as you think I am," Candy said softly. "I know what it's like to do things you're not proud of. And I never woke up to anyone dead in bed with me, but I knew plenty of people who died. It pretty much comes with the territory of being a drug addict. One of the things I've learned in recovery, Ty, is that we have to forgive ourselves in order to move on in life and learn to live with any kind of happiness. You don't have to forgive yourself right this second, but... I hope you'll at least think about it. Hm?"