by Monica James
The move was so quick that his partner is left dick in hand and appears to be in disbelief that it happened. But when his friend cups his face, bright red blood slipping through his fingers, there is no mistaking that I broke his fucking nose.
Tiger gasps, eyes wide, while Carlos stands, unbending. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was impressed. I shove past him, marching up the two stairs and into the booth.
Tiger is still motionless, but when I lunge for her, she shrinks back, wagging her finger at me. “Who do you think you are?” It seems to be the question on everyone’s lips tonight. “You barely speak to me, and when you finally do, it’s to scold me for having fun. Screw you.”
“If you’re having fun with this dipshit, then you really need to get out more. I won’t tell you again,” I warn, giving her one last chance to comply.
But I should have known nothing is ever easy when it comes to this woman.
“Tell me? No, nuh-uh.” She reaches out and flicks one of my suspenders with her pointer finger. It snaps against my chest with a sharp crack. “You don’t get to boss me around, buddy.” She staggers forward and shoves me. Well, I think that’s what she was attempting to do because I peer down at her palms, which are still firmly planted on my chest.
My body reacts just how I anticipated—I want to eat her alive.
It’s a knee-jerk reaction as I grip her wrist, but instead of squeezing, I am suddenly mesmerized by the beating of her pulse and unconsciously rub my thumb over her soft skin. The touch only seems to provoke her further.
She wets her pink lips, reminding me of how they felt when she pressed them against mine. When her green eyes spark, she rouses my demons who whisper sweet nothings into my ear, begging I maim her for having such a smart mouth.
Images of Tiger on her knees before me as I punish her flood my brain. I want to do despicable, deplorable things to her, but that’s not even the most fucked-up part. I want to defile her in the most depraved ways, and I think…she wants me to.
She isn’t afraid of me, but I want her to be. Her rebellion sets me on fire, and it does something I never thought was possible again—it makes me feel alive.
Unable to help myself, I openly look at her, giving her a glimpse inside my blackened world. I will corrupt and pollute any purity because that’s what I do. I destroy. But I can promise I will do so while making it feel good.
“Oh, god,” she whimpers, fisting my shirt between her fingers.
Internally, I’m beating my chest like a fucking caveman because her pleas are music to my corrupt soul.
She blushes a sweet pink, only stroking my ego all the more. That lasts for roughly three seconds before her sweet pink turns white and then a sickly green. I know what’s happening, but it’s too late.
Tiger’s whimpers weren’t because she had fallen under my spell. No, it was because she was asking for divine intervention to stop from throwing up all over me. But God can’t help either one of us because once she’s done puking her guts out, she wipes her mouth with the back of hand, peers up at me sheepishly, and promptly passes out.
Lily
The first thing I notice is that I’m wrapped in a delicious smelling bubble of sin. The second thing is that I have no idea where I am. Groaning, I attempt to pry open my eyes, but they feel like they’re weighed down with lead.
My brain is absolute mush, and I can’t recall what the last thing I remember is. The only thing I’m certain of is that I’m lying against something soft that smells of juniper and a punch of spice. I want to roll in it because it smells so fucking good.
I don’t remember using a new laundry detergent, so I wonder what this fragrance is. Churning through the fog, I attempt to recount the last time I smelled it. A warmth spreads over me before it turns to dread.
Oh, shit.
Ignoring every protesting muscle in my body, I jolt upright, brushing the matted hair from my face. My heart is in my throat as I frantically scan my unfamiliar surroundings. Where the fuck am I?
Another thought smashes into me.
Jordy.
Kicking off the blankets, I’m about to leap from this bed, but I notice two things—I’m not alone, and I’m not wearing any clothes. A lamp flicks on, which has me yelping.
I clutch the blanket to my chest, ready to fight for my life, but when I see who is before me, I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. Bull is sitting in a ratty armchair in the corner of the room, playing the part of creeper perfectly.
Sitting casually with his ankle crossed over his knee, he watches me with those fucking devilish eyes. His fingers are steepled in front of his lips. I don’t know why I’m here, but when I realize where I am, my stomach drops. I’m in a motel room, a cheap one at that, with Bull sitting feet away.
The last thing I remember is…fuck.
I’m still in my bra and underwear, but where are my clothes? More importantly, why am I in a motel room with a man who is nothing but trouble?
However, all of that can wait.
“Wh-where’s my phone?” I sound like I gargled glass shards, but he’s heard me loud and clear. He gestures with his head toward the nightstand.
I pounce on it, unlocking it with unsteady fingers. I’m about to call Erika, but when I see a thread of messages, I cock my head in confusion. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes to ensure I’m not seeing things, I read over an exchange of texts from my cell to Erika’s.
Where are you?
Did you want me to feed Jordy?
Are you okay?
When that text wasn’t answered, Erika sent another string of messages, asking if Jordy should stay at her house, until finally, someone replied.
Tiger is working late. Yes, to all your questions. She’s fine.
Short and sweet—no guessing who replied on my behalf because I was too busy getting wasted instead of being a good mom.
Slumping back against the headboard, I run a hand over my face, beyond disappointed in my behavior last night. I was supposed to only have one drink, but that turned into ten when the man of the hour made me feel like shit once again.
I quickly send a text to Erika, thanking her for looking after Jordy and also letting her know I’ll be home soon. I leave out how I have to find my clothes first. Tossing my cell onto the nightstand, I gather the courage to look at Bull, whose poker face is still set in stone.
“Where are my clothes?”
He points at the bathroom but doesn’t speak. His silence only provokes my ire.
“Why am I here? In this cheap motel with you?” The moment the question leaves me, I pale before I begin burning up.
It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. I’m almost naked in a motel room with the man I’ve had this weird sexual chemistry with since the moment we met. I don’t particularly like him, and he most certainly doesn’t like me, which is the perfect recipe for hot, angry sex.
“Oh, god,” I groan, covering my face with my palms, uncaring that I’m no longer covered. What does it matter? He saw it all last night.
“Did we…?” I don’t even have the balls to ask him if we slept together. “I can’t believe after practically being a nun for years, I finally get lucky in a shithole, and I can’t even remember it. Please tell me we were careful?”
I omit my next question, which would have been, ‘Was I any good?’
“I may be a fucked-up, sadistic bastard who is into some weird ass shit…” Has his voice always been this smooth? “But necrophilia isn’t one of them.”
“What?” I finally uncover my face, arching a brow.
When he pushes off the chair and stands, I hold my breath. He ambles over, coming to stop at the foot of the bed. “You’re not wearing any clothes because you vomited all over them. And me. You’re here because I have no idea where you live, and I wasn’t going to rummage through your shit. This shithole is where I’m staying at the moment.”
He licks his upper lip, folding his muscled arms across his broad ches
t. “And no, we did not have sex.”
Well, holy shit. He answered all my questions, but I still have a thousand more. This is the most he’s ever spoken to me, though, so I don’t push my luck. I suddenly feel like the world’s biggest idiot for so many reasons.
“I’m sorry I called this place a shithole.” I apologize because I just insulted his home. “Thank you for taking care of me. I was a mess last night. I’m so embarrassed.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk that much, especially around assholes like Carlos.”
He’s right. On both accounts.
I want to tell him the reason I did so was because of the way he treated me. The way he disregards me provokes me in ways I can’t explain. And whenever we touch, he makes it evident he’d rather take a swim in a tankful of piranhas.
I don’t know why he gets under my skin: he just does.
Thoughts of skin have me remembering how much skin I’m currently flaunting. I had no issues with my nakedness before because I thought he’d seen it all last night. But now that I know the truth, I realize what he did was actually really chivalrous, and in return, I’ve accused him of defiling my unconscious state and revealed the fact that I’m a born-again virgin.
This cannot get any worse.
“Is Jordy your…cat?” he asks, bringing home the fact that I’m a terrible mom.
Of course, he’d think I had a cat. What kind of mom leaves her son alone while she gets drunk with strange men?
I suddenly remember his reply to Erika. He called me Tiger. I suppose it’s short for my stage name, but Tiger and Bull—this can only lead to disaster.
Nodding quickly, I wrap the blanket tightly around me, before carefully getting out of bed. “Yes, he’s my cat.” I don’t know why I just lied. I suppose I’m not ready to share that I have a son with someone I just met—regardless of this strange connection we have.
“And I’m a shitty mom for leaving him with my friend. I better get home.” However, the issue of not having any clothes may hinder my departure.
Bull sighs before sauntering over to the dresser. He doesn’t even know he’s sauntering. This man radiates swagger. He produces a pair of sweats and a well-loved AC/DC T-shirt. “Here.”
With no other choice, I shuffle over, ensuring I don’t fall onto my ass, and reach for his clothes. Our fingers brush, but I muffle my whimper. “Thank you again.” I desperately want to ask why he came to my rescue last night, but I don’t.
I feel dwarfed in his presence as he holds me prisoner with an intense stare. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Two minutes ago, I thought we got busy, so you don’t have to ask permission,” I tease lightly.
But when Bull cocks a brow, appearing confused by my taunt, I clarify, “Of course you can.”
“What did Carlos whisper in your ear?”
I screw up my nose as I have no idea what he said to me because I’m sure it was the usual shit. But when Bull seems to hang onto my reply, I dig deep and remember. “He asked what it would take for me to come work for him.”
Bull clenches his jaw.
“I’ve told him I’m not leaving Lotus. She’s been good to me, and I would never do that to her. When I told him no, he offered to buy me a car. My reply was something along the lines of I’m not a whore. And his response was my girl could never be a whore.” I roll my eyes because his cheesy line still makes me want to hurl.
Carlos has made it no secret that he wants me to dance at his club, and he’s also been very forthright about how that’s not the only thing he wants. Lotus can’t kick him out because he’s a paying customer when he comes in to watch me dance. I only humor him because he leaves me ridiculous tips.
He sees me as a pawn, so I play the game.
But I would never fall for his bullshit. He promises me cars, money, and my own private dressing room at his club Blue Bloods. But men like Carlos are collectors, and I’m just a trophy he wants to add to his collection.
He could promise me the world, and it still wouldn’t make a difference. He doesn’t stir a longing deep within me where I find it impossible to breathe when he’s near. Even though I haven’t dated in a very long time, I know when I’m attracted to someone, and I’m definitely not attracted to Carlos.
However, the man standing in front of me, watching me closely, stirs something I’ve not felt before. I don’t understand my response to him. I know nothing about him, but that intrigues me all the more. I’m so used to men being all up in my face all the time, but with Bull, it’s different.
I wonder why he’s living here. What happened to his home? I can’t shake the feeling he’s hiding something monumental, something which has shaped him into this sometimes shy, always brutal creature.
So much is going on behind those mismatched eyes, eyes I can’t stop looking into because it seems as though he’s battling both good and bad. Light and dark. I wonder which side will eventually win.
Taking a small step forward, he peers down at me, studying my body language with what seems to be inexperience. Sometimes, he comes across as so…naïve to the happenings of the world. I know he felt something when I kissed him. His erection was a sure sign of it.
But most of the time, my presence seems to repulse him.
I’m so confused, and his eyes are the perfect analogy to how I feel. I like and hate him all in the same breath; both sides fighting for domination over the other. The jury is still out on which side will win.
“Your eyes are really something,” I stupidly say aloud, caught under their spell. When I realize what I just said, I open my mouth, ready to backtrack, but then decide not to.
I can acknowledge this weird, tangible tension between us. And I want him to also.
His chest rises and falls steadily, the tempo almost lulling me into a contented slumber. What is it about him that sucks me into this blackened abyss?
“Something what?” he asks, his breathing even while I’m moments away from gasping for air.
Even though I’m wrapped up tight, I suddenly feel naked. I’ve never felt more exposed than I do right now, which is saying a lot, seeing as I take off my clothes most nights. But the way Bull studies me, awaiting my answer, leaves me stripped bare before him.
And at that moment, I realize I am in so much fucking trouble.
With nothing to lose, I lick my lips before replying, “Something…special.”
He sighs deeply, giving nothing away. But I don’t expect him to.
With nothing further to say, I turn around and make my way into the bathroom. When I close the door, I press my back against it and let out what feels like the breath I’ve been holding since we first locked eyes. I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I do know I like it. I like it a lot.
I knock on Erika’s door, feeling like the world’s shittiest mother. It opens, and when I see my neighbor, I sheepishly offer the bunch of flowers I bought for her. They’re wilted, but it was all I could find at the local corner store.
She accepts them with a slanted smile. “Come in.”
I commence my walk of shame, feeling even worse when I round the corner and see Jordy sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal with Erika’s son, Patrick, who is the same age. They’re watching TV and don’t notice I’m here. “Hi, baby,” I say, hoping my guilt doesn’t show. It does.
“Hey, Mom,” Jordy replies, looking at me briefly before returning to whatever show is on the TV. This is how our conversations usually go lately. He’s so angry with me, and I don’t know why.
Erika is at my side, peering down at my baggy clothes with a confused grin. “Do you want a coffee? I just made a pot.”
Erika has been a life saver. She’s looked after Jordy when my babysitters have been late or haven’t turned up at all. Patrick and Jordy have become best friends, and Erika makes it no secret she wishes we followed in their footsteps.
But I barely have enough time to be friends with myself and my son, let alone my neighbor. And besi
des, if we happened to become friends, I’d have to tell her the truth. She doesn’t know I strip. No one does. She thinks I work the night shift at a Walmart downtown between my ballet classes.
This is how I live my life—a lie. I distance myself from everyone, even Avery, because it’s just easier this way.
“I wish I could, but I have so much to do today. It’s my only day off.” This isn’t a lie.
Once I’ve showered, I thought Jordy and I could go to the movies. We haven’t had enough mother and son time, and although he’ll think it’s lame when I bribe him with the latest Avengers film and whatever snacks he wants, I know he’ll cave.
Erika nods with a smile, which has me feeling beyond shitty for not wanting to spend time with her. “Come on, Jordy. Let’s go home.”
He grumbles under his breath but eventually stands and goes to grab his things.
I wait for him to stop dawdling, but I suppose as a preteen, he has no concept of time. When he finally emerges, I thank Erika and say goodbye to Patrick. When Jordy and Pat do some weird gangster handshake, I pale because this is the reason I want to get the hell out of Detroit.
Jordy is about to leave, but I clear my throat, giving him “the look.” He reads it loud and clear. “Thanks, Ms. Howard, for letting me stay the night.”
“Of course, honey, you’re welcome anytime.”
Placing my hand on Jordy’s shoulder, I give Erika a thank-you smile, and we leave her apartment. My apartment is just down the hall from hers. Once I open the door, I instantly want to curl under my blankets and sleep the day away.
But I had enough me time last night when I got drunk and then woke up in a motel room.
Shaking those thoughts aside, I walk into the kitchen, desperate for some coffee. As I put the kettle on, I call out to Jordy who went to his bedroom. “How about we go see the new Avengers movie today? It’ll be fun.”
“Sure,” he replies, a lot less enthused than I am. But that’s okay. At least he agreed.
Being a single mom has been tough. I’ve tried my hardest to be there for him, but with no family or friends, he had to grow up fast. When I look at him, I can’t help but feel guilty for robbing him of his childhood; on the many nights I was forced to work late, he had to fend for himself.
