Tainted Love

by RC Christiansen

  “I’ll be fast, just lock up behind me,” he orders slipping his helmet on. “By the way, I love the new hair colour, but just for the record, black or blonde, nothing will change the fact I’ll always see you as my naughty little Vixen.”

  “Thanks,” I grin happy he noticed. “But as you already know, Whiskey, I’m solely into you for the hate-fuck therapy. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  He furrows his brows and growls under his breath.

  “I guess we’ll just have to see about that,” he challenges.

  Ignoring his statement, I follow him to the door and lock it once I see him pull away.

  Sometimes I worry about him. Not about him on the bike or anything. I trust Pax with my life. The man knows all my deepest secrets and I know they are safe with him. My apprehension stems from knowing who he is, what he is. A broken drifter. I guess I just worry that him being caught up in this place, surrounded by money and trying to commit to living in one place for longer than he ever has, that he may not come back.

  Two

  The Foundation of Trust

  The light floods in through the windows of the Club, waking me from a night of insanity and with a pounding headache like clockwork. I rub my eyes and toss the blanket over Pax as I roll off the bed, happy the party went off without a hitch, and thankful that Danny was a no show. I grab the pile of cash scattered across the bar and lock it in the safe before I hit the button on the coffee machine.

  As usual, Pax raked in a killing charging his regular rate of five bucks a head for legal partiers and eight for the underachievers. He brought in a nice take by the end of the night.

  And as always, he wanted to split it with me, but I told him to save up for the jacket he’s been eyeing for months, the one he refuses to let me buy him. He has pride, I get it, but still, his rejection of gifts in general pisses me off.

  Besides the Kawasaki, he’s never let me buy him anything, and he only accepted the bike A- because I have an issue with drinking and driving, and B- the liquor store is hella far and I can’t purchase legally for another year.

  “Good morning,” Pax says, wandering his way over to the counter.

  I glance him over, taking in his shirtless physique and all of its tatted glory.

  “It’s afternoon actually,” I point out.

  Pouring him a cup of coffee, I slide it to him and then get one for myself with a side of Advil as I skim through the barrage of text messages from my mother.

  “Shit! No! I forgot about the reading of the will! Fuck! Satan’s gonna be pissed if I’m late, and the lawyer’s going to be there in less than thirty.”

  “Grab your things and I’ll drive you back to the underworld,” Pax teases.

  “Are you sure you’re good to drive? Because I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk from last night.”

  “That’s because you downed an entire mickey of bourbon, so, no, I’m not surprised. But I’m good,” he says, slapping my ass. “Now get your things and meet me at the bike.”

  I nod and take my time sipping my coffee, hoping the painkillers will kick in soon as I gawk at Pax stretching his shirt over his head. The thing is so old and worn down it does nothing to cover most of his body and I can see parts of all of his tattoos through the holes. The guy is an avid fan of reptiles and has all sorts of the slimy things inked over his body. I could and have literally played Snakes and Ladders up and down his neck, pecks, abs, arms, and his left calf. He’s been telling me he wants to get a sea serpent on the other calf, but I keep telling him my mother has no business getting embedded into his body.

  “Stop staring and get moving or you are going to be late to meet with the lawyer schmuck,” Pax complains, tossing the helmet at me.

  “Sorry, I was transfixed by the reptilian exhibit for a moment,” I wink. His cocky smile almost makes me want to bend over the counter again, but I change my mind, realizing he’s now growling. It’s his warning sound, so I’ve learned.

  I buckle the helmet, waiting for Pax to gather his hair into a ponytail before I follow him out to his bike.

  The ride home is much faster than I’d hoped. His engine is loud as I hop off, so I gesture at Pax to pull the bike around back by the guest house while I remove my helmet, noticing the same Porsche still parked in front of the house.

  I bet Wallstreet not only swindled some cash out of Satan, he probably got a free hand job from her too. Pax knows to wait in the kitchen because he hates anything to do with lawyers, and he prefers to avoid Satan’s persistent sexual advances.

  I enter the house through the front and catch sight of Natasha dusting the railings.

  “Kirsten, I’m so glad you arrive!” she exclaims in her thick-cut Russian accent. “You mother is like crazy banana and break things again!”

  Why am I not surprised?

  “Shit, that sucks,” I shrug, “please go and tell her I’m here, and that I just need a minute to brush my teeth and freshen up. I’m sure it will calm her down.”

  Natasha nods, looking doubtful as I sprint up the stairs. I don’t even know why she still works here after everything she’s had to clean up, let alone witness when it comes to Satan’s drunken rage fits and my father’s recent suicide.

  I gaze in the mirror, displeased that I look even shittier than I feel as I wipe the makeup from under my eyes and spit the toothpaste in the sink. This is gonna be a shit day, I can already feel it.

  Throwing my hair up loosely on top of my head, I change quickly into a baggy sweater and glide on some pit stick, hoping to disguise the rancid smell of bourbon that’s perspiring from my pores.

  As I enter the living room, I meet eyes with mother’s cold cut glare and then scan over Wallstreet before I take a seat on the opposite side of the room.

  “Nice of you to finally join us, Kirsten,” mother bitches, “now we can get the will dealt with. You may start now Mr. Morris.”

  “Maybe I should introduce myself first,” he pauses, turning his attention to me. “I’m your late father’s attorney, Gabriel Morris, Gabe for short.”

  “I already met you yesterday, outside by that piece of shit you so rudely drenched me with, Gabe. So, if you don’t mind, just get on with endowing my father’s empire to Satan so we can call it a day.”

  “Kirsten!” mother slurs. “Can’t you be civilized and respectable for once in your life?”

  I glare at her and shake my head, laughing.

  “You mean like you and the fact Dad hasn’t even been in the ground a month yet and you’re already fucking Wallstreet here?”

  Mother stands unsteadily, ready to toss her glass of wine at me, but Gabe stops her hand mid-air.

  “Ladies, please,” he pleads. “I know this is a difficult time, but this will go much smoother if you just take a deep breath and calm down.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “And who do you think you are, Jerkoff? Just because you slept with Satan does not make you my father. Let the bitch break all the crap she wants; it doesn’t matter anyways; she’ll just replace it with money she never worked for.”

  Mother laughs and slams down her drink as Gabe’s green eyes narrow, pinning mine. In the moment, I realize he’s not bad looking, minus the suit. He has a certain sex appeal about him, a nice build as far as I can tell, and he looks rugged with his unruly dark hair and unshaven face. I kind of get why mother wanted a piece of him, he can’t be a day over thirty.

  Gabe clears his throat and opens a folder before addressing Mother.

  “Helen, your husband was adamant about leaving you controlling shares of his company, but he left specific instructions that you are not to interfere with how it is run. He’s left Mr. Harrison in charge of daily operations. Robert also left to you the main house, the majority of his assets, stocks, bonds, and most of his vehicles. He left orders to split his bank account between the two of you, although Kirsten won’t be eligible to access a large portion of the money until she is twenty-four. He has left the boat and motorbike to Kirsten, along with
the guesthouse, his library, wine, and record collections, along with a forty-five percent share of the company. Do either of you have any questions?”

  “I do,” I say raising my hand. “Are there any clauses that say if my father was murdered, and Satan over there is found guilty, that she would have to forfeit her share?”

  “Kirsten Evelyn King! How dare you!”

  “No, Mother,” I say, standing. “How dare you! Just because the coroner says he killed himself, it doesn’t let you off the hook for being the cunt that forced his hand!”

  I can literally see the Devil take over her face as her glass nails the table in front of me and shatters at my feet.

  I glance over at Pax’s watchful presence across the room and wave him away, before I take in the lawyers rattled expression.

  “I think maybe I should leave now,” Gabe mutters. “Please call me if you need anything, Helen.”

  “All I need is another drink and a better daughter,” she mumbles, “I’ll call you just as soon as I am lonely again.”

  “Slut,” I mutter, stepping over the glass. “Here, I’ll walk you to the door, Gabe.”

  Mother yells for Natasha to get her another drink and to clean up the glass as we exit the room.

  “I’m sorry she’s so embarrassing… you might want to reconsider climbing into bed with her.”

  “It’s fine, I get the whole grieving process… but I think she’s lost, you know, she and your father were married for a very long time, maybe you should take it easy on her.”

  “Is that so?” I snap. “What the fuck would you know about it? She treated my father like shit, for your information. Cheated on him too,” I add, opening the door. “Besides I’m pretty sure a man of your stature could do a hell of a lot better than my mother.”

  He laughs and steps onto the porch.

  “Well that’s a much nicer tone then the one you took with me yesterday,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “Here, call me if you have any questions or need me to come by and take your mother off your hands for a while.”

  I smirk and take the card.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the last part, Wallstreet, and if you’re ever looking for a real party, where the glasses don’t get chucked, I think I can help you out, but seriously, Satan is a lost cause and you are wasting your time.”

  With that, I slam the door in his face and toss his business card onto the entryway table.

  The man is insane if he thinks hooking up with Lucifer won’t end up backfiring in his hot but arrogant face.

  That woman sucks the soul out of everything that lives and breathes, especially men. Just ask my father, after all, she might as well have tied the fucking noose for him and kicked the chair out from underneath his feet.

  “How did it go?” Pax asks as I enter the kitchen.

  “Okay I guess, although the lawyer is a douchebag. Can you believe it was the same prick from yesterday? The guy’s totally banging Lucifer, and he still wants to even after he watched her launch her glass at my head. What a moron!”

  “Well,” Pax says rubbing his stubble, “The mans a schmuck, and I suppose even the devil needs to get laid, even if it is by that jack-ass. You want to bounce?”

  “No… actually I have a better idea. Come,” I say grabbing his hand.

  He follows me out the back door and into the guest house.

  “What are we doing in here?” he asks, looking around.

  “Moving in.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s mine, and because I say so. Do you have a problem with it?”

  “Yeah, I do,” he says, nudging me onto the sofa. “I like living at the Club. This place is too sophisticated for my tastes.”

  “You’re kidding right?”

  I cringe at him and pull him on top of me.

  “But I’m not too sophisticated for your tastes, so what’s the issue, Pax?”

  He kisses my forehead and slips his hand between my legs, instantly arousing me.

  “You,” he whispers, “will never be too sophisticated for my tastes. But I’d prefer to earn my keep by holding down the Club.”

  His childishly vacant eyes penetrate mine as his hand continues to massage my pussy, making me moan.

  “Fuck, Whiskey, would you stop for a second? Shit! I am trying to have a serious conversation with you!”

  Feigning surrender, Pax sits up and puts his hands in the air.

  “Fine, I’m listening, but I don’t get why you think this is a good idea. Me and you aren’t even together, so why do you want me to move in here with you?”

  I shrug, knowing my reasons are vain and I don’t want to say it’s for sex.

  “I just think it makes more sense this way because you wouldn’t have to travel so far between here and the Club to see me. Plus, you are my best friend and it’s not like we won’t both benefit, so, will you think about it?”

  He smiles that wicked grin, the one he does when he’s thinking more about sex than my proposition.

  “And what about Donny?” he asks, spider-crawling his fingers up the front of my sweater.

  “Danny… and what about him? I already told you he was a mistake.”

  “Only because he couldn’t get you off, and if that’s the case and you want to live with me, then why can’t we commit to each other?”

  I slap his hand away and head to the bar at the far wall of the room.

  “I’ve already explained it to you, Pax. You’re a drifter. You leave sometimes and I don’t hear from you for days. I’m not going to sit around worrying or waiting for you when sometimes I don’t even know if you plan on coming back.”

  “I always come back. You know me, Vix. When have I ever let you down?”

  “When my dad died, Pax, that’s when.”

  I slam my drink to the pained expression in his deep blue eyes. I never meant to say it but it’s out.

  “How many times do I have to apologize for not being here, Vixen?”

  “I know, and I didn’t mean it the way it came out. It would be different if you would at least let me hook up your phone.”

  “That is not happening. You’ve already given me the bike, the Club, and your body. I’m not adding a phone bill to the equation. Besides, stealing wi-fi is more my style, now get that ass over here and sit on my dick.”

  I can’t help but smile at his mischievous grin. He always knows how to make me laugh even when I’m trying my damnedest to be pissed off.

  “Can’t… I need to go shower both you and last night’s escapades off of myself. You might want to do the same.”

  He raises a brow and points to the hall.

  “There is a shower in this place, isn’t there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Let’s go test that shit out together.”

  “Fuck that! I’m not showering with you until you agree to live here… until then, we are showering separately. So, either I can go first, or I can head back to the main house while you do, choice is yours.”

  “Well why didn’t you just lead with that, baby?”

  Peeling his shirt off his ridiculously toned body, he tosses it at me and laughs.

  “Your turn, Vixen, take the sweater, the boots, and the shorts off, shower with me, and you’ll have yourself a roommate.”

  I smile from ear to ear and don’t hesitate, stripping down to nothing before I make him chase me down the hall.

  The man is an animal, with the stride of a football player, and he’s fast. It’s not entirely fair trying to outrun a guy that’s practically half man and half beast, and by half beast, I’m referring to his lower extremities.

  It takes me less than sixty-four seconds in the glass-encased shower with him to realize why some people are smart and install two shower heads. Pax, the giant man-beast, as fine looking as he is, towers over me. As if that’s not bad enough, faultlessly, he’s hogging the entire stream of water because of it.

  “Hey, Zeus,” I moc
k, smacking his rock-hard ass, “you mind moving a bit to the left?”

  Laughing, he turns around to face me as I take in his always ready raging hard-on and roll my eyes.

  “If you help me relieve this godly staff, I’ll consider sharing the water.”

  “Or you could move the fuck over and relieve it yourself and not be such a horny prick!”

  “I could… but I know that’s not really what you want, not what you need,” he taunts, slowly stroking his shaft. “So, get on your knees and open that foul mouth of yours.”

  He knows I love it when he takes control like this; his eyes get all sinister and his words ignite something dirty in my soul. He also knows I never do as I’m told.

  I move closer to him, studying his tattoos with my fingers. Running them lightly up the snake’s body that begins at his hip and contours over his abs before it crosses over another snake that slithers between his pecks and around his collar bone.

  He stops my hand abruptly and jerks me closer before gripping the back of my hair and forcing me to my knees.

  I laugh and look up at him, the water beading down his entirely ink sculpted body, his long hair shaping his devious face as he gives me the look. The one that says if I perform well, he’ll reward me.

  He doesn’t need words to command me, his eyes, his touch, and his arcane growl say it all.

  I’m purposely slow about taking him into my mouth. I know he likes it when I tease him with my tongue around the knob of his dick.

  He groans, tangling his hand in my damp hair, attempting to thrust himself into my mouth just as I catch a glimpse of my mother watching.

  “Jesus fuck!” I shout. “What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!”

  Pax starts laughing, doesn’t even cover his dick as Satan stands there with her arms crossed and I cover my chest.

  “No, Kirsten, we need to talk.”

  “No, you need to get the fuck out! And stop staring at his dick you psycho!”