by Monica James
“Which guy?” I ask, my nostrils flaring. Her evasiveness isn’t helping my sudden need to kill something.
She must be able to read my impatience because she gives me what I want. “I-I teach ballet to kids.” She waits for me to process her news. I nod once. “One of my pupils’ father is here for a bachelor party. He’s always flirted with me, but I’ve made it clear it’ll never happen.”
She swallows, the subtle pink to her cheeks turning a bright red as she averts her gaze. “He saw me dancing, and when I was done, he asked for a private dance. I refused. Lotus was fine with me saying no. But he threatened to tell everyone at the ballet school what I do if I don’t—”
Gripping her chin, I tip her face toward mine. “If you don’t what?” I question, savoring the tremble to her lips.
“Fuck him,” she finally replies, appearing belittled by this jerkoff. And she has every right to.
“What does he look like?” My voice is smooth, but inside, a rage is beginning to fester.
“I—” She falters, shaking her head.
“Tell me,” I press, gripping her chin harder.
“Bull, no,” she pleads. But it’s too fucking late.
Inhaling a heavy breath through my nose, I cup her cheek and lock eyes with her. “So help me god”—I take a moment to compose myself—“if you don’t tell me who he is, I will kill every last motherfucker in this place until I find him.”
A small gasp escapes her parted lips when she realizes my threat isn’t empty. “He’s wearing a white shirt. Red vest. And black p-pants.”
Her stutter reveals she’s scared of me. Good. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
I may not understand emotion, but I understand violence.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, her skin as cold as ice beneath my hand. I’m suddenly mesmerized by the strands of her hair as they brush the tips of my fingers. “Bull?”
“Take care of your problem,” I reply, tilting my head when her green eyes begin to water.
“Why? Why do you even care?” She sniffs back her tears, but it’s too late. I’ve seen them, and I want to claim each one.
With a cautious touch, I wipe away a stray tear with my thumb. “Because…no one makes you cry—” Her mouth parts. She seems…touched. That is, until I sever our connection, only to put my thumb into my mouth. Her salty sadness is a potent drug to a fiend like me.
“Except me,” I conclude, meaning every single word. She stands speechless as I walk from the dressing room and into the club.
It doesn’t take me long to find the asshole in question. He’s sitting with a group of dipshits who are tossing dollar bills onto the stage. Tawny is dancing, and when she sees me, her eyes light up. I wish they wouldn’t.
Ignoring her, I march over to the dickhead, tap him on the shoulder, and yell into his ear, “Tigerlily owes you a dance. Come with me.”
His head bobs up and down, and he stands quickly, throwing back the remainder of his beer. He high-fives one of his friends, who makes a crude and immature gesture of his finger going through a circle he’s made with his thumb and finger on the other hand.
The urge to beat him senseless only rises.
He follows me as I lead him through the club, disregarding Tawny who has stopped dancing to watch where I’m going. As we walk down the corridor and into one of the private dance rooms, I decide that I won’t kill him; I’ll only hurt him a little.
“Where’s that cock tease?” he asks, looking around the room for her. “She’s gotten my dick so hard all these months parading around in that tutu. It’s time she pays up.”
Okay. I take it back. I’m going to hurt him a lot.
I close the door and lock it, sealing his fate. When he turns over his shoulder to say something, I put an end to his talking when I punch him straight in the nose. He staggers back two steps, hollering as he cups his bleeding nose.
“What the fuck, man?” he cries through his fingers.
“I was going to ask you the same question,” I mock, sauntering toward him. “The fuck you doing threatening one of my girls?”
I ignore the fact I just referred to Tiger as mine and focus on why the dipshit is still breathing.
“I-I’m sorry,” he splutters, his hands coated in his blood.
The sight gives me so much pleasure, and I draw the violence deep into my lungs. “Too late.”
I advance, laughing when he uses the flimsy chair as a barricade between us. “I have money. Lots of it!” he cries, only making things worse for himself.
He rummages through his pants pocket with one hand as the other nurses his bloody nose, so I take this opportunity to show him what I think of his offer. Placing my boot against the edge of the seat, I push the chair forward, and the top metal rail connects with his balls.
He wheezes, dropping to the floor on his knees.
I kick the chair away, needing an open battleground. He scampers away on his knees, but I kick him in the lower back. He falls flat onto his stomach. “Please,” he begs, but his pleas mean jack shit to me.
When he attempts to rise, I place my boot in the middle of his spine, intent on squashing him like the cockroach he is. “You’re going to forget you ever saw Lily here tonight. We clear?”
“Yes!” he screams, squirming.
“I don’t believe you.” I press down harder on his back, leaving a dusty boot print on his pristine vest.
“I swear it! I won’t tell a soul. Just please let me go.”
He’s begging. What a wimp.
However, I’m suddenly fixated on a smell that awakens this darkness within—cherry blossoms. “You think you’re better than me, is that it?”
Dipshit’s head faces the door, the locked door where Tiger just walked through thanks to the key she holds. He lifts his neck, and when he sees her, he thrashes about angrily.
“I don’t think…I am,” he snarls, finding his balls at the wrong fucking time.
I chuckle, shaking my head at his stupidity.
Tiger locks the door behind her as she strolls into the room, standing in front of the dipshit. She meets my eyes, and I am left utterly speechless by her savage beauty. She is going to make him pay. “You wanted me to suck it? Wasn’t that what you said in my ear?”
In response, I press down onto his spine. “Answer her.”
“All right! Fuck!” he cries, panicking as he extends his hands out in surrender. “Yes, but I was joking.”
Tiger snickers, folding her arms across her chest. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll suck it once you do.”
My heart fucking explodes into a billion macabre pieces as she lifts his chin with the tip of her stiletto only to shove it into his mouth. She isn’t gentle and forces her shoe down his throat. He gags, tapping out, but she merely curls her lip in disgust.
“What’s wrong, Derrick? Don’t like it when the shoe is on the other foot?” Oh, my fuck. Beautiful and funny—I am fucking done for.
She continues feeding him her shoe while he gags, his muffled pleas only making this disturbed scene all the more perfect. I watch her openly, unable to look away from this fierce, ruthless woman. She meets my eyes, and something passes between us.
It’s a dark, twisted mess—and I want to choke it with my bare hands.
Tiger removes her foot while Derrick coughs madly. “Apologize to the lady,” I snarl, feeling his vertebrae crunch under my boot. “Tell her you won’t bother her again.”
“I’m sorry! I won’t tell anyone I saw you here.”
“I don’t believe you. What do you think, Tiger?”
Her nickname spills from me, but instead of regretting the oversight, something unexpected happens—I fucking smile. My cheeks actually hurt as the sensation feels strange on me. I can’t remember the last time I smiled.
But that doesn’t matter because I will never forget this moment.
She taps her chin as if deep in thought. “Nope, Bull, I don’t.”
“Jesus Christ!
” Derrick screeches. “You’re both fucked up.”
Tiger looks at me and smiles, shrugging nonchalantly. “I suppose we are.”
Something sluggish inside me begins to slither and wrap its way around my deadened heart. It squeezes tightly, leaving me breathless, but when Tiger drops to a squat and grips Derrick by the hair, forcing his head back at a painful angle, I realize I’m left gasping for air because of her.
I knew she had a temper, but seeing it flourish before me is something else.
“You will tell Melanie to back off and let me teach my class. And you will forget you ever saw me here, understand? ’Cause if you don’t…” She trails off, reaching into her pocket for a pair of lace underwear. She twirls them around her finger. “I will have some incriminating words of my own.”
The asshole just got played.
“Fine, okay. I won’t tell anyone!” he exclaims, wriggling madly.
Only when she sighs in victory do I lessen the pressure on his back. But when he rears up and spits in her face, I decide to clear up any confusion on his behalf. Without hesitating, I yank him up and punch him in the ribs, the stomach, and lastly, break his nose for a second time.
When he howls in pain, attempting to punch me, I deliver an upper cut that knocks him out cold.
Both Tiger and I watch emotionless as he twitches, blood spilling from his nose. Sadly, he is still breathing.
The adrenaline of the fight thrums through me, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to grab Tiger and throw her up against the wall. Her chest rises and falls quickly, betraying her excitement. With a bleeding, unconscious body between us, I’ve never felt more connected with another human than I do right now.
She peers up at me from under her lashes, the pink to her cheeks hinting at her arousal over what we just did. I never mistook her for anything but fierce, but holy shit, tonight…her need for vengeance sang to mine.
Tiger is savage. And her darkness dances with mine.
“What happens now?” she asks softly, but nothing is tender about her appearance. She is sparking to life in front of me.
I want so badly to touch her, but I don’t trust myself. I will fucking rip her in two. So I inhale, subduing the devil for now. “You go out there and don’t allow anyone to make you feel worthless ever again. Underneath this fancy façade,”—I toe Derrick’s limp body—“is a weak, pathetic coward. But you, you’re real. Never forget that. Never lose sight of who you are. And what you want.”
She licks her lips nervously, rousing this hunger.
“Someone can only make you feel like shit if you let them.” She appears to hold her breath when I deliver a final yet powerful word. “Don’t.”
The static crackling between us constricts every part of me. But eventually, with a nod, she turns. I step forward, giving in to the demons, and catch her unaware as I press my chest to her back.
Her hitched breath and trembling body betray her. And it’s fucking beautiful.
Extending my hand, I whisper into her ear, “Leave the underwear.”
She does as I say before she rushes out the door, leaving me with this foreign sensation of…feeling.
Lily
I know I promised myself I would never let him get the better of me again, but I can’t stay away.
I’ve tried. I’ve really tried. But after last night, it seems this just may be a losing battle. I know I shouldn’t want him, but that doesn’t stop me from seeking him out.
Watching Bull reprimand Derrick that way triggered something inside me. Mostly, I’ve kept my temper under control, but when I let loose last night, instead of holding back as I have in the past, it was the most liberating feeling I’ve had in years.
Society’s rules scold us from acting on our deepest, darkest emotions. But those rules don’t apply to Bull. He calls it how he sees it, and I admire his no bullshit attitude. I don’t know anything about him, but I can’t help but feel that this world we live in is something foreign to him.
He’s so naïve at times—as though he’s an alien, assessing our planet for the first time.
When Bae told me she walked in on him and Tawny kissing, I was furious. I didn’t understand why he would do that. Tawny doesn’t seem to be his “type” because someone like Bull doesn’t have a “type.” His tattoo of Lone Wolf describes him perfectly, which had me guessing that he was using Tawny.
I don’t know what for, but I refuse to believe it’s anything more than a strategic move. He just appeared out of nowhere. I want to know his backstory, which is why I’m standing on his doorstep, holding two coffee cups.
I dropped Jordy off at school before coming here. I have no game plan. I just know that I’m in the right place. I’m about to knock but am caught unawares when the door opens, and I’m confronted with a sight that should be illegal so early in the morning.
Bull stands before me shirtless.
Thankfully, he’s in black sweats, even though they sit low on his tapered waist. The silver chain he wears hangs low between his muscled pecs. I guess he doesn’t take it off. When I roll my tongue back into my mouth, I offer him a cup of coffee before pushing past him.
His unmade bed is thankfully empty of Tawny or anyone else, bar a black fluffy kitten curled in a contented ball on his pillow. Sitting at the foot of the bed, I sip my coffee, watching him close the door. Before he has a chance to speak, I beat him to the punch.
“What did you do with Derrick?” The thought of him going back to Melanie Arnolds battered and bruised has me smiling, but I hide my delight behind the rim of the coffee cup.
“I took care of it,” he finally replies, looking at me closely. His hair has grown a little longer, and I wonder what he’d look like with it long.
Rolling my eyes, I question, “What does that mean?”
His sigh of frustration amuses me beyond words. It’s good to know I can get under his skin because he sure as hell is under mine.
As I’m sipping my coffee, he asks, “What’s your number?” which results in third-degree burns on my tongue.
“What do you want my number for?” I lisp, due to the scalding coffee that I inhaled, thanks to his question.
Folding his arms across his broad, tattooed chest, he arches a dark brow. “Do you always question everything?”
“Yes,” I reply, deadpanning him. “Especially when some strange man asks for my number.”
Bull nods, tonguing his cheek in thought. “Good. You should,” he finally says. “You asked what I did with Derrick. So I was going to show you.”
I gulp.
“Where’s your phone?”
He gestures with his head to the nightstand.
Leaning across the twisted sheets and blankets, I ignore how good they smell as I reach for the cell. I’m about to pass it to him, but stop when he says, “Put in your number. There’s no passcode.”
I blink once, stunned by his trust in me. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who trusts easily, so this is a big deal. But not wanting to make a fuss, I go to his contacts. I’m expecting to see a list of numbers belonging to family and friends, but I am surprised and also saddened to see that I am, in fact, his first contact.
With fumbling fingers, I put in my name, number, and address before tossing him the cell. He catches it in one hand with his catlike reflexes. He scrolls through his phone, giving nothing away, before my cell pings, alerting me to a text message.
Placing the coffee between my legs, I hunt through my bag, and when I see what’s on my screen, I gasp, before bursting into laughter. The lace underwear, which stare at me from my cell now sit beside me, thanks to Bull flinging them my way.
“I think lace suits him,” Bull teases, referring to the picture he sent me of Derrick wearing nothing but the underwear. He’s on all fours with one of the girls behind him, mid flogging. For good measure, he’s wearing a ball gag.
“There’s some collateral in case he gets lippy. He won’t, though. I know guys like him. They care more about th
emselves and their precious reputations. You’ll be fine.”
My hand trembles because this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, and I know how messed up that is, considering the context. But Bull has constantly saved my ass when he didn’t have to. I want to thank him, but the last time I did that, things went south. And when Lotus offered him this phone, he was clearly uncomfortable. He doesn’t like to owe people. Besides his pride, I sense there is another reason for it.
So I nod instead, placing my cell back into my bag. I’m suddenly struck with an idea.
“Will you take a drive with me?”
He arches a brow, suspicion clouding his expression. “To where?”
Deciding to use his words back at him, I ask, “Do you always question everything?”
And in response, he does the same. “Yes. Especially when some strange woman asks me to take a drive with her.”
I can’t help but smile as I air quote. “You’ve seen me naked, Bull. I’m hardly some ‘strange woman.’”
However, when he tongues his upper lip while eating me up from head to toe, I drop my hands into my lap, suddenly wishing I had used another phrase.
He walks toward me slowly, bending forward and whispering into my ear, “I haven’t seen you completely naked.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I counter, “Not many people have.” And it’s true. I never take off all my clothes. The outfits I wear don’t leave much to the imagination, but the scrap of material covering my dignity makes all the difference. As for another man seeing me naked, the last time I had sex, I was drunk, and it was dark. Not my finest moment.
A heavy exhale leaves Bull, his hot breath burning me alive.
He pulls back, stopping inches from my face. His lips are so close to mine, all it would take is for me to shift slightly, and I could experience that sinful mouth again. But I don’t. I grip the sheets beneath me, and I measure my breaths as best I can.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I question hoarsely.
Bull nods, examining my face so closely, I dare not breathe. “I’ll go for a drive with you,” he clarifies, while my head bobbles uselessly.
