by A. Zavarelli
Within a few short moments, I come to understand that the story she gave me earlier was only the practice version. This time, she’s fully locked and loaded with her smile and her fake accent and her cleavage that even I can’t fucking look away from.
The men are eating it up, all of them offering to help her out, purely from the kindness of their cocks.
I’m rapping my knuckles on my leg and focusing on the table. Trying not to let it get to me. But the arsehole she’s with is eating it up with a fucking spoon, and when he smiles, it’s smarmy and I want to knock those teeth right out of his mouth.
To my complete fucking irritation, he accepts her proposal to help spend her bastard of a husband’s cash.
The game begins soon after, and Scarlett is supposed to be giving me the signals. But she isn’t and all I can see is red when Ethan- her new best friend- wraps his arm around her and leans close to whisper in her ear.
I’m about to fucking snap, and at this rate, I’m about to lose as well.
I need to cop onto myself.
So, I order another drink and get my head into the game, deciding the only way to salvage this clusterfuck is to ignore Scarlett completely. She didn’t come here to play poker and if I’m going to win, I can’t be distracted by the game she’s playing too.
So, I do what I do best.
I start hustling.
And I recover from my initial blunders once I’ve got my focus right. Now things are changing. Now Scarlett’s eyes are on me, but I don’t look up at her.
Her laughter is musical and the tales she spins for Ethan, syrupy sweet. She’s a good fucking liar and Crow was right and she really is Satan and what the fuck am I doing and why do I still want her?
She’s playing me too.
The viper disguised as a kitten. And she’s dead wrong if she thinks I’m just another ignorant bloke being led by his cock and she’s going to watch me crash and burn while she laughs in my face.
Just when I think I’ve got it all sorted out in my head and that I need to let go of her, Niall’s words from earlier come back to me, warring with that thought. Am I only sabotaging this, exactly as he said I would?
The game breaks, and Ethan excuses himself to the bathroom, with promises he’ll be right back. Scarlett and I already agreed that we wouldn’t speak until the end of the game. That was the plan. But she knows that none of this is right and she can sense the want in me to leave this behind. To leave her behind and forget her.
And the devil in her wants to reel me back in.
“What does it feel like?” she whispers as she moves around beside me. “Is this jealousy?”
It’s an innocent question. And the honesty in her voice softens my resolve. Scarlett doesn’t have relationships. She told me herself she doesn’t feel anything for men.
It shouldn’t surprise me. Or piss me off more.
But it does.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I nod to Ethan as he comes strolling back from the bathroom.
She gives me a funny look but resumes her games with Ethan.
With the few minutes we have left, I turn around and scan the crowd. There’s a cute blonde across the bar, glancing at the tables hesitantly. Like she wants to play, but isn’t sure how.
I catch her attention and gesture for her to come closer.
She does.
“Care to join me, sweetheart?” I ask, laying on the accent real thick. “You look like ye could use a good dose of fun.”
She gives me a tentative smile, and a deliberate moment of hesitation even though we both know she was sold the second she saw me across the room.
“Okay.” She agrees and takes a seat beside me.
Across the table, Scarlett’s eyes move over my new companion. But they are flat, as always, emotionless, and I can’t read her.
I genuinely don’t know if the woman really is capable of feeling anything.
But I’m about to find out.
Childish, maybe. But I’m a bloke. We never fully grow up.
Blondie introduces herself as Charlotte, and she becomes my new best friend as the game begins again. She’s laying it on real thick too, with her sweet charm and pretty smile. She keeps leaning close to me, brushing her arm against mine before I wrap mine around her shoulders and start whispering in her ear.
I’m raking in the chips now and cleaning out the table.
And I’m proud of myself for not once checking in Scarlett’s direction. Her laughter has died down, and the conversation between her and Ethan seems to be diminishing as well, much to my satisfaction.
When the game is finished and I’ve raked in my winnings, Charlotte tells me she has a hotel room upstairs, wondering if I’d like to join her.
Before I can give her an answer, Scarlett is beside me.
I glance down at her, still jacked up over her antics. But her face is soft now, her eyes open. She doesn’t spare Charlotte a glance as she grabs my shirt collar and pulls my face to hers.
“I’ve decided that I don’t like this game anymore,” she says. “And I’d like to play another.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. And I’ve decided I need a new good luck charm. So what do you say, old sport?”
I give Charlotte an apologetic smile, and it was a dick move of me to bring her into this so my apology is sincere too. I tell Charlotte I’m going to keep trying my luck at the tables.
“No big deal,” she says, eyeing Scarlett as she slips me a card from her purse. “It was fun. Let me know if you want to do it again sometime.”
Scarlett drags me from the table and then stops in the middle of the floor. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She’s locked down tighter than a battleship right now, giving nothing away.
“I have to go to the powder room,” she announces.
“Alright. I’ll be here waiting for ye.”
She leaves, and I grab another drink from the bar.
But by the time I’ve finished it, she still hasn’t returned. I take a walk around the club and ask a couple of ladies who leave the bathroom if they’ve seen her, but they say no.
So on the predictable chance that she’s run off on me again, I find the back exit and poke my head into the alley to look for her.
What I find isn’t Scarlett.
Even at her worst, I’ve never seen her like this. So frayed. So much rage pulling at her seams.
She’s got the bloke- Ethan- pinned by his throat with her stiletto, and she’s aiming a gun I didn’t even fucking know she had, right at his head. Her wig is off, and her eyes are wild. Terrified and filled with thirst.
Thirst for blood.
“Scarlett.”
I move towards her, approaching slowly, but she won’t even look at me.
“Stay the fuck away, asshole,” she tells me. “Why don’t you go find Charlotte. You liked her so much with her blonde hair and dry personality. I bet she’s completely sane too.”
“Is this really the best time to discuss that?” I ask.
“This bitch is fucking crazy,” Ethan tells me as if I don’t already know it. “You have to help me, man.”
Scarlett stuffs the front of her shoe into his mouth, making him choke on it.
“You like that?” she asks. “You like it rough, don’t you, Ethan? I remember you do.”
I check the alley and it isn’t as secluded as Scarlett thinks it is and I’m worried that someone else will come stumbling into this mess at any moment. I’m edging towards her, and Scarlett doesn’t notice until I’m within five feet of her.
“I said to stay the fuck back,” she growls. “I told you, Rory. My game, my rules. You didn’t play by my rules.”
“You didn’t even tell me the rules,” I counter. “You didn’t tell me this was what ye were after tonight.”
“He deserves it,” she says. “And so do you. You all fucking deserve it.”
“I never meant to hurt ye,” I tell her. “It was a game, Scarlett. I’m sorry.”
She laughs,
and it’s dry. “As if you could hurt me.”
She makes it sound as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, but I can tell that it’s true. Even if she won’t admit it to herself.
“Scarlett, if this bloke did something, then ye have my word, I will sort him out. But this isn’t the way. Not here, and not now.”
“No,” she says. “It’s my call. My shot. I get to be the one to do it. You aren’t going to ride in here with your goddamn Irish brotherhood and take my glory.”
Her hand is shaking even as she speaks, and I know Scarlett thinks she can handle anything. I also know she’s done a lot of fucked up shite. I watched her carve up the butcher when she had the chance and there was no hesitation on her part.
But she isn’t a killer.
Scarlett has never killed before. And I have no intentions of letting her start now.
“Once ye do this, there’s no going back,” I tell her. “I’ll take him back to Boston. We’ll sort him out there. Anything ye want, Scarlett. I just need ye to be honest.”
“Her name isn’t Scarlett,” Ethan spits as he yanks away from her shoe. “What a load of bull. If either of you lays another hand on me, my father…”
Scarlett kicks him in the mouth and two of his teeth fly onto the cement as I lurch forward and grab her from behind. I’m struggling for the loaded gun in her hand, and she’s not letting go, and I don’t want to fucking hurt her… and fucking Ethan is making too much bloody noise.
She has the hammer cocked already, and when she pulls the trigger, there’s nothing I can do. But it’s a snub nose revolver, and she didn’t count on the recoil and it’s obvious she’s never fired it before. It isn’t even bloody close to Ethan, but it’s still too loud and everyone in a three-block radius will have heard it.
If they didn’t, now they will hear Ethan carrying on like a simpering child.
Jesus fecking Christ.
My hands are tied and there isn’t time for any other option. I reach down and yank the knife from Scarlett’s thigh and I plunge it into his fucking throat, slashing through the artery.
Scarlett is watching in shock as his blood pools onto the concrete below so I turn her away and do what needs to be done. I take his wallet and his watch to make it look like a robbery, and then I stand up and retrieve the gun from Scarlett’s now limp hand. Her eyes are closed, and she’s trembling.
She doesn’t speak or argue when I grab her with my free hand and zip up my jacket with the other.
I drag her down the block and directly into the parking garage of the hotel and deposit her into the passenger seat, buckling her in before I walk to the other side.
The drive back to Boston is long and quiet. I stop off at Slainte and give Conor a ring, instructing him to come out and grab the hotel key from me. It looks like Reaper will be making a trip to New York tonight.
When we get back to my house, I lock Scarlett in from the inside and drag her into the bathroom with me. She’s not shaking anymore, but she’s still not speaking either. I plant her arse on the counter again and tear off my blood-soaked shirt.
Before I can get to the shower, she stops me, reaching down into my jeans pocket and retrieving Charlotte’s card, tearing it into pieces.
“Ah, Jesus,” I bitch. “That’s what ye want to bloody argue about right now? After everything that’s just happened?”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she reaches up to smear some of Ethan’s blood across my chest with her fingers.
And for the briefest of moments, there is peace in her eyes.
“What did he do to ye?” I ask.
“I get it now,” she answers.
“Get what?”
“Jealousy,” she says. “That must be what this is. This feeling. I don’t like it.”
“Christ, Scarlett.”
I drag her body against mine and kiss her. I kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her. She’s the absolute worst thing for me and I can’t help it. I want her anyway.
“I want you to fuck me,” she says, and it’s real this time. “While you’re covered in his blood.”
14
SCARLETT
I DON’T WANT to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again- F. Scott Fitzgerald
Rory’s hands move to the zipper on the back of my dress, and only once he has it pulled down do I push him away.
“I need to be in charge.”
Rory doesn’t miss the high pitch of my voice.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he tells me. “Whatever ye want.”
“Take off your clothes,” I say. “And sit down in that chair.”
He still doesn’t trust me and he’s still wondering if he should just ditch me already and I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust me either.
But he does as I ask.
He unbuttons his jeans and they drop to the floor. He’s wearing black boxer briefs and his body is hard like a beast and he has a v-cut the way that models do and a perfectly flat abdomen and it makes sense that so many women want him.
He could do whatever he wants to me if he really had the inclination. He could throw me down on the bed and fuck me any which way he desired, no fucks given if I liked it or not.
But Rory wants me to like it with him and it’s a fool’s hope but when he sits in the chair and spreads out his legs and gives me full access to his body, I want to like it with him too. I want to remember this night. I want to wash away Ethan’s blood with something else. Something better.
It’s started.
Ethan is really gone, and I didn’t do it but I am relieved and I am grateful to Rory and I want to show him how grateful I am.
My fingers are jittery when I let my dress fall to the floor and kick it away from me. Rory’s hard for me already, his dick busting at the seams of his briefs when he gets a look at the red lace bra and thong set. But it’s the heels though. He loves me in heels and his eyes keep moving down my legs and I know he wants me to keep them on.
So I do.
I feel things, right now. Like this. In this room. With him.
I don’t know exactly what these things are. But they are there, in my chest. In my stomach. In the blood rushing through my veins.
I want him.
And I don’t want anybody else to have him.
My pulse is beating hard in my throat, and my body hungers to be on his. It’s foreign for me, to be so out of control.
I’m always in control.
Rory is threatening that. Taking it away from me.
“Scarlett?” he asks. “Are ye alright?”
I blink and give him a stiff nod. And then I slide my thong down over my hips and step out of it, kicking it away with my heels.
I move towards him.
His fingers curl over the arms of the chair, and he wants to touch, but he’s being good for me. His neck is tight and corded and his eyes are all over me. And I’m glad I’m not the only one feeling so off kilter right now.
“You are pure fucking torture,” he groans as I step between his muscular thighs. “Pure sin.”
I grab onto his shoulders and move my knee up beside his hip before swinging my other up on the opposite side. Straddling him.
My lace clad breasts are in his face, and his head dips forward, just a little, before I grab his hair and pull it closer.
I want him to.
I want him to do what he wants, but I also need to be in control.
It’s confusing.
“Touch me,” I murmur.
He does. His hands slide up the back of my thighs to squeeze the flesh of my ass in his palms as his mouth latches directly onto my lace covered nipple.
It scratches against my skin and he sucks it inside, and this is different and it’s good and it’s hot. He licks me through the thin barrier of the bra, eating at me and rubbing his face all over my tits. One of his hands is on my hip now, grinding me down onto his erection. He’s solid and already leaking come and so plump it has to hurt.
I
want to touch him too, so I reach down and cup him through the briefs, jacking him off through the cotton and tasting the skin of his throat.
“Scarlett, fucking Christ,” he murmurs.
His fingers tangle in my hair and he shoves my face deeper into the space of his neck. He likes my lips on him. He likes it when I suck on his throat and leave a mark too.
My bra comes off at some point, and he pulls me against his chest. I like the way my nipples feel on his skin, rough and hot. And now his mouth is on my throat too. He drags his nose against my skin and then buries it in my hair, muffling his groans as I roll my hips over his cock.
I reach around and claw at his back and tell him I want him inside of me.
It isn’t a lie.
I’m wet for him and I’ve only ever loathed the thought of this before.
“Take my cock out,” he tells me.
I reach inside of his briefs and unwrap him, and he’s bigger than I remember from watching him shower and his skin is all velvet.
When I stroke him in my palm, he reaches down and stops me.
“Condom?”
His voice is strained, rough. And I like that.
“Fuck me raw,” I tell him. “I want you to.”
“I don’t do that,” he says, but already he’s doing it with me, because he’s sliding against me and soaking himself in my want for him.
He groans again. But still doesn’t push inside and I’m impatient now.
“What’s the hurry?” he asks.
His eyes are searching mine for answers, and I don’t have any to give. Only that, my pulse is thumping harder now. And I’m afraid that I’m right.
That this won’t bring me pleasure, but only pain. I reach forward and tap my fingers against his chest in time to his heartbeat while he watches me.
“You make the line go away.”
He doesn’t understand, but how could he?
“Is that bad?”
“Yes. It’s not what I want.”
He kisses me on the lips, and I open my mouth for him. My body relaxes slightly, and one of his hands moves down to cup me before he drags his thumb over my clit.
“I want you to come on my cock,” he says. “And then you can have what ye want.”
I nod, and he slides up inside of me. Both of us are dead still and I’m full and it doesn’t hurt but I’m too stiff and Rory sees it.
