by Gina Whitney
Over the next few weeks, despite my denials, I made a habit of grabbing an extra non-fat latte with two extra shots of espresso for a certain someone every morning. My old man was going to be in trial over the next few weeks. So that meant he wasn’t going to be in the office most mornings. That lined up perfectly for our sunrise dates. I never woke up early for any chick—ever. Gia was magnetic—dangerously so. That was the only word I knew to describe her. She drew me in with her essence, coiling around my core with enough torque to destroy me on a molecular level. That was some fucked-up deep shit—the type of shit you can’t even explain to a dude. Not unless I wanted said dude to commit me to a mental hospital. A man knew these things. Men knew when we they done for. I knew as soon as I tasted her pussy there would be no going back.
Gia wasn’t your usual stateside fan-girl. We all had those in every state. She was the type of girl you wanted to be your girl. She tried to act like a badass chick. But she wasn’t. She was pure. Pure to the acts I wanted to involve her in, to the world I’d ask her to be a part of. That pureness fed the beast. The beast didn’t want to court anyone, didn’t want to go slow. He wanted her bound and screaming. Normally, I didn’t do Lilly White chicks. Hated them, in fact. Didn’t take on new Subs. I had never had to, had never wanted to. She made me want to. I wanted to spend the time it would take to educate her. However, I was conflicted about that, too. Being someone’s first—of anything—was an emotional suicide. There was no getting around that. Especially with chicks. First kisses, first loves, and first fucks were all complications. I didn’t do complications. Bottom line: Gia was bad news—trouble. But her smile did me the fuck in. Her smile lit up my shit brighter than Aurora Borealis. It did things to me. Had me thinking fucked-up romantic shit. On the other hand, I was writing the best music I had written in a long time. I’d found my muse, my Sub, my soul.
Chapter 3
Gia
I was feeling electrified, stimulated, and alive for the first time I could remember. I had purpose. A goal. And God willing, I would achieve it with open arms. Especially if those arms belonged to Abel Gunner. Abel had been bringing me coffee every morning for a while now, which had me swooning big-time. My body pulsated with excitement, so much so that I could barely sleep nights.
I watched him move to the elevator, as he departed his father’s office. He looked into my eyes, and in his I saw deep desire with a hint of menace. And I wanted to sign up for it ASAP. Damn, that boy was some fine grade-A man candy. His probing gaze never faltered. My insistent eyes were up for the challenge. I wasn’t going to blink first. I let my eyes peruse his body slowly, thoroughly … I smiled and winked before his band mates found their way to the elevator. Then our moment was gone.
As they stepped inside, Ender’s voice rang out, shouting his goodbyes, sealed with an air kiss. I responded with a smile and a wave, not wanting the sound of my voice to linger on Abel’s ears. I wanted to leave the words unspoken between us. I was looking forward to this weekend’s festival, mainly because I would be running into him. Abel would be front and center for my private concert dwelling within my subconscious. This attraction was undeniable and most definitely unavoidable. And I wanted to take nasty to a whole new level. Game on!
“Damn, Gia, That was some serious eye-fucking right there, babe,” Cin observed, inching her chair closer to mine. She had a cautious smile on her face. She loved a gorgeous man just as much as the next woman, but as my best friend she wasn’t supportive of my plans concerning Abel. Since Mama Lioness was in the house, I decided I wouldn’t be as forthcoming as I normally would be. Otherwise, she would be on a need-to-know basis in regards to any of my future endeavors concerning Abel. Her unwanted opinions would drive a wedge, when there was no need for one.
“Yep, he has been properly eye-fucked by Yours Truly. There will be no confusion as to what I want,” I said confidently, smiling in amusement. She leaned in awkwardly, giving me a one-handed hug.
“Babe, you know I just want the best for you, right? I’m protective of you. And I’m especially protective of your heart. That boy there is dangerous, Gia. Please just promise me you’ll be careful.”
I wrapped my arms around her and nodded in the affirmative. Her heart was in the right place. But I was driven by certain needs—and it wasn’t my heart I was worried about.
“Of course, chick, I know. And I appreciate your concern—more than you know.” I kissed her cheek and gave her a final squeeze before disengaging from our embrace.
The day went by without incident. It was quite boring after the interesting morning I’d had. I got my paycheck, headed to the bank, then home. Eager to file this day away, I moved to the next task at hand: to plot the next four days’ worth of vixen couture. My attire needed to be both thought- and boner-provoking. The floor of my room quickly became a menagerie of clothes and shoes. I needed something jaw-dropping that would get me past eye-fuckery and into the paint. Yeah, I’d go hard in the paint for this man. I fell asleep amongst the piles of fuck-no’s, eh-maybe’s and hell-yes’s. Cindy’s gentle voice brought me back to the land of the living.
“You okay? You slept on the floor all night? WTF?” she asked. I stretched. Damn, I had slept through a dreamless night. I hated it when I didn’t dream, or couldn’t remember my dreams.
“Apparently so! I guess I was more exhausted than I thought.” I sat up, groaning. I wanted to go back to sleep, but it was Friday morning, and that meant a few hours of work followed by a weekend of getting down and dirty—with any luck.
“Cin, bring some coffee, please. I need a swig before I can even shower. I’m still that tired, dude. Please?” I begged. I had zero energy—not to mention, my neck was stiff. Hopefully a hot shower would remedy that. I had to be kink-free for this weekend. Walking around with a stiff neck is not a good look. The last thing I needed was to look like C3PO.
“No prob, baby girl. Get your ass in the bathroom and into the shower. I’ll bring it in there. You don’t have all morning to lay around. Got to get ready. I want to start this day already. I’m pretty psyched for tonight myself.”
She smiled widely, extending her hand to help me from the floor. Thankful for her help, I slowly found my way into the bathroom, then put the shower stream on full-blast. Cin returned with my coffee. I took it in the shower with me. Yes, I drank coffee in the shower. I also drank wine in the shower. It relaxed me. And I used my favorite woodsy male body wash—another defect in me. I loved men, loved their scent. So much so, I bathed and deodorized in it. I relished the scent caressing my body, while providing some much-needed aroma therapy throughout the day. It didn’t take me very long to get into a vivid and hot daydream. This one was a real doozy, even for me. But, daydreams were a part of my life. They were how I worked things out. Often times I found peace and happiness in them. Who would begrudge me that?
Okay, back to him. His hands found their way to my ass, roughly lifting me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his trim waist to balance myself. He leaned into the wall for leverage, gripping my cheeks and spreading me for entry. He pushed me against the shower wall to open my legs wider, while spreading my ass cheeks with his hands, prying them open. He positioned his hard dick at my opening. I rolled my hips in invitation. He licked his lips, turned on by my gesture. He entered my channel in one rough thrust, until his balls were flush against my ass. He allowed me a moment of adjustment, before starting the endless waves of deep, rolling thrusts.
“My cock belongs in you—longs, aches for you, my balls kissing your ass, my piercing kissing your cervix. I’m home with you.” He sang his filthy words into my ear in the sing-song way that was undeniably Abel. The filthier he was, the wetter I became. He rubbed my nub like he was playing his favorite song on his guitar—a song he had written especially for me. A song only he knew the words to. He was an expert in all things Gia. And when it came to my body, he knew it better than I did.
“Gonna get rough, babe. Lock your ankles together and hold the fuck on
. I’m not stopping for anything.” His gruff voice had me at ‘rough’; my brain was mush. Whatever the fuck he said was of no consequence, just as long as he continued his brutal assault. I had no words. I couldn’t formulate anything articulate. Thoughts swirled around the empty space inside my cranium. I couldn’t latch on to a single one. I shook my head, desperately trying to free up a notion. Anything. I was officially lost in this man.
“Gonna come deep in this pretty cunt of yours. Leave you with something of mine. I want to see it drip down your legs.” His decadently sexy voice spoke words of possession in my ear. He pushed his weight into me, leaning me against the wall. With his freed-up hand, he wrapped my throat, applying pressure. He loved it when I screamed his name. But the air was barely making its way into my mouth. My voice wouldn’t sing his praises. Instead, he got something more valuable—my complete submission. My clit throbbed as my pussy fisted his cock. Blackness softened around the edges of my vision. My legs started to quake. He removed his head from the crook of my neck to look me dead in the eyes. Tearing up, I quirked a smirk. His eyes glazed over. He knew I was okay. It was our signal. I couldn’t be a wiseass if he were being too rough.
“Oh, fuck! Uh … Gia. What the fuck are you doing to me?” He rode out his orgasm long and hard, as I whimpered mine. Christ, what was I doing to him? This beast of a man kissed me ardently, grabbing my face with both hands while pinning me to the wall with his chest. I accepted his delectable tongue, opening fully for him to explore my mouth, our tongues doing an erotic dance of passion, his teeth gnashing against mine. We were both fighting to hold on to the moment a little longer. I could feel him getting wickedly hard again. I wiggled. He smirked, gently putting me down.
He grabbed the soap to wash me—another act of adulation. It gave him great pleasure to bathe me, shampoo me, and dry me off. Taking care of me was his first concern. He was grateful for my submission. His gratitude squeezed my heart, making me want to submit all over again.
“Gia, there will be no hot water left. What the fuck?” Cindy yelled through the door. That was the best daydream I had had yet. With my hands braced against the shower wall and my head leaning on the cool tiles, I was lost. I needed the feel of something tied to this earth—something real. The ghost of Abel was already haunting me, seducing my mind, squeezing my heart.
“Yep, just getting out, babe. Give me a minute. I’ll be right out.” I bit my lip, needing the sting of pain to feel alive. With my feet planting firmly on the ground, I got ready quickly and headed to work.
Cindy and I shared a light lunch. We felt like little kids, bursting with joy and excitement. It was a relatively quiet day—thankfully. My head was not into work. I was flying with the clouds, my feet never touching the ground. I was high on Abel. By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, we were punch-drunk and laughing hysterically. I begged Cindy to stop at Starbucks for a quad of espresso. She passed on the coffee, opting for a smart water instead. I needed caffeine.
We pulled into the lot to our building. We lived in a nice part of town. The rent was a little more than we could afford separately, so rooming together was a no-brainer. It was your standard two-bedroom. Nothing to write home about. It was respectable and I was proud to call it home. The furnishings came compliments of Ikea. We picked out modern art deco-style pieces to show our unique taste. The walls were painted a rich rust and went perfectly with the artwork I had selected.
None of it was to my mother’s taste, and since she absolutely hated leaving her gated community, there was little chance she would be visiting—which suited me just fine. By no stretch was there any love lost between us. For the most part, we were at each other’s throats. People assumed because of her alluring smile and natural beauty she was a warm, caring mother. But there was nothing natural about her. It was all an act. A very public act. Behind closed doors, she was an abusive, manipulative, controlling, demonic Jezebel. My greatest fear was stepping into her shoes without thinking—becoming her …
They say you’re a product of your environment. My environment was tolerable only because I escaped it inside my head, by turning my pain into laughter and sarcasm. Only another fucked-up person would be able to see through my veil—my mask. And those people were few and far between. My days consisted of pushing the pain and ugliness behind the closed doors of my mind, sweeping them into neat little piles and shoving them inside, locking them away. If I got lucky, they would never surface again. But my past told me that I would never, ever, get that lucky.
Cindy came out of the bathroom dressed to kill. She was wearing a black leather mini-skirt paired with a silver backless lamé top. Her black five-inch heels finished her look epically.
“Damn, you look kick-ass, chica.” I let out a low whistle. She blushed, but smiled brightly. She had bought this outfit for last New Year’s Eve, but had never got the chance to wear it. She had gotten the flu instead.
“Ooh ooh, I want you to wear my Cartier bracelets. The silver and gold will be a nice contrast,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked into my room. They were my mother’s. She had begrudgingly given them to me, because she couldn’t stand the gold-plated bangles I loved. Bitch.
“Thank you, Gia. I would’ve never thought to ask,” she said, playing with them on her wrist.
“Okay, my make-up’s done. Give me a minute to get dressed.” I went to get my clothes hanging perfectly on the hanger. Stripping my tank top and shorts off, I put on a nude lycra/spandex thigh-high mini dress. The front and back were cut very low. The nude color gave the illusion I wasn’t wearing anything. This dress was entirely too much for this venue. I was overdressed, but ask me if I cared. I needed to close the deal tonight with Abel. And sure as fuck this dress would seal it. I bent over the mirror to apply one final coat of gloss. Perfect. Grabbing my bag, I left my bedroom for the big reveal, not caring what Cindy might think about my choice of clothing. Life was about decisions. And I was deciding to look jaw-dropping, mouth-watering, boner-inducing, drop-dead gorgeous.
“Christ on the cross!” She patted her heart, fanning herself obnoxiously. “Hon, I think I have a lady-boner.” We both laughed at her theatrics. “Seriously G, I need a panty-liner if I’m going to be next to you all night in that.” She motioned her index finger up and down.
“Deal with it, babe,” I laughed. “All kidding aside, let’s hit it. We still have to get our tickets from the ‘will call’ window.” I grabbed my keys and proceeded to the door. Luckily for her, she was right behind me, because I would’ve left her ass. She had a nasty habit of walking slow. But I had a quick gate, so she was always ten steps behind me. We would end up fighting. I was always walking too fast. However, if you asked me, she was always walking too slow.
We hit traffic closer to the venue, adding to my anxiety. When I was nervous, I cursed. Well, actually, I normally cursed in any given situation.
“Move it or lose it, fucker!” I screamed, rolling down my window. The driver had the nerve to glare at me. “Yeah, that was me calling you a motherfucker. Pretty girls curse, too.” I stepped on the gas, but not before saluting him with my finger.
Yeah, it had been that kind of day. I had no patience for hot-girl rubberneckers. We had to wait in line to get into the parking lot. The parking attendants wore jeans and fly me to the moon saloon tee-shirts advertising a local bar and co-sponsor for the event. Cin yelled out her window at one of the guys as we pulled in. I slowed to a crawl, easing up next to him.
“Hey hon, do we have to park in the grass?” She touched his chest, dragging her finger down slowly. “My heels will get all dirty.”
Cin then proceeded to stick her five-inch heel out the window, turning her foot this way and that way. Oh, dear Lord. I rolled my eyes at her antics. This was a classic, signature move. She hated to walk—anywhere. Period. End of story. She did what she had to do to get what she wanted, no matter how abhorrent it might be. She could come off at times as a dizzy bimbo. But this was an act. She was Mensa smart. Which was sca
ry as fuck, because she played an entirely different role in front of people. Most people who were gifted had a habit of making you feel inadequate. Not Cindy. She went out of her way to hide her intelligence, as if she were embarrassed by it. She was a chameleon, like me. It was all kinds of fucked-up. But hello pot, meet kettle. Who was I to say what was right and what was wrong. The cutie pointed in the direction where we were to park.
“You ladies go right through there. Tell Steve I said you can park in the handicapped section.” He moved the wooden barricade so we could drive through, and then stepped aside.
“Handicapped?” she shouted. He looked surprised by her outburst. I hoped she wasn’t one of those—the people who sneered and leered at folks like me who took liberties with handicapped parking.
“Stick a cork in it!” I retorted. “My grandmother was handicapped. Hello? Remember? I’m handicapped by association, remember? It’s in my breed. I told you!”
She rolled her eyes while shaking her head. That was my cue to hit the gas, park, and get the hell out of this freaking car before she could have another outburst. I reached for the door handle to exit the car—but her hand stopped me before I could. I turned in question.
“Yes, now what?” I waited for her answer.
“Breed? Did you just say breed? It’s in your breed?” she asked incredulously.
