by Monica James
She simply cups my cheek and shrugs. “I don’t have the answers.”
“Then what do you want?”
Her chest pushes against mine as she gasps for breath. And with one simple word, she steals mine. “You.”
I don’t know what to say. Or do. Or…feel.
“Every time I see you with another woman, this…monster comes out of me. And I don’t know why.”
“You’re not the monster. I am. I’m the one covered in another man’s blood.” To prove my point, I raise a bloody fist. “You saw me beat him within an inch of his life. I only stopped because he isn’t why I’m here. I have an end game, and everyone is disposable. Even you,” I add, watching her slender throat dip as she swallows.
This is when she’s supposed to leave the room and never look back. I’ve just given her a get out of jail free card. I don’t expect her to stick around, who would? I have nothing, nothing to offer her. A world full of pain is all I can promise.
I wait calmly for her to leave. But she doesn’t.
With a sigh, she begins to unwrap the tape from around my hands. She won’t meet my eyes, but instead busies herself with ridding the bloody reminder from my skin. Once she’s undone the tape, she hesitantly grips my chin and turns my cheek to look at my injuries.
“Does it hurt?” she asks. I shake my head, unsure what the fuck is going on.
She brushes her thumb over my lips, nursing me softly. She appears to be in thought. Here’s to hoping she realizes what a big fucking mistake this is. “What’s your end game?” she softly asks, her fingers drifting too close to my throat.
Gripping her wrist, I stop her from touching me because this has gone too far. “That’s none of your concern,” I snarl because she can never know—ever.
“Why were you fighting tonight? Why did you cover your face? Your eyes? What are you hiding?” she asks, cementing what I have to do. “What are you running from?”
“Just because you shared something with me doesn’t mean we’re going to have a heart to heart over coffee. And the reason for that is…I don’t have a heart.”
She licks her lips quickly. She’s nervous. Good. “I don’t believe y-you.”
“Well, you should,” I state, inches from her face. “You want to see something in me that’s not there.”
Before she has a chance to reply, I turn her fiercely, so her back is pressed to my front. Our reflections are echoed in the dirty mirror in front of us. She is trembling all over.
“See that?” I snarl, peering at our bloody image in the mirror. “Nothing but an empty shell.”
“What happened to y-you?”
“You don’t want to know,” I counter in warning.
“You’re not bad. I can see it behind your eyes.”
But I cut her off. This has gone too far. The only way to stop this is to hurt her. She is nosy and smart, and sooner or later, she will uncover what I did and what I plan to do. “I am bad, Tiger.” She doesn’t seem to believe me. So it’s time I showed her just how bad I can be.
Fisting her hair, I tilt her head to the side and bite the column of her neck, feeding the devil within me. She cries but doesn’t retreat. While I’m sucking at her soft, delicious flesh, I reach around to the front of her jeans and unsnap the top button.
The sight is almost too much.
A heavy intake of breath fills her lungs, and on her exhale, I slip my fingers into her underwear. Her sex is hot and bare and…wet. With nothing but pure possession, I sink two fingers into her slick pussy. Her mouth parts with the intrusion, and her body seizes around me. She isn’t ready for me, but her pained hiss fuels my darkness. She feels incredible.
“Don’t mistake me for anything but that.” I begin to finger her—in and out, in and out. She wriggles, whimpering, but I suckle on her neck, only burying my fingers deeper.
“Oh, god.” She squeezes her eyes shut.
“I will use you because I can. Because you let me.”
To prove my point, I stretch her wide, ignoring how fucking tight she is. I know I’m hurting her, but this is the only way I can get her to listen.
She moves with me, gently arching into my touch as she pants softly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was enjoying this. But I shove that sick thought aside.
Licking down her throat sluggishly, I pump my fingers, picking up speed. Tiger moans, attempting to move her hips, coaxing me to give her clit some attention, but I’m holding her prisoner in every way possible. My cock is hard, so fucking hard, but this isn’t about gratification. This is about punishment. This is about showing Tiger who I am.
“Are you trying to fill the hole in your little family, is that it?”
Her eyes snap open, the fire consuming the green. Good, she’s angry. I can work with that. “How d-dare you.”
“Maybe Michael didn’t want to be stuck with a needy woman? You don’t have the best track record with people sticking around.”
Finally succumbing to her demands, I rub over her clit, giving her a taste because that’s all she’ll ever get. “You…make…me…sick,” she pants, a sheen of goose bumps covering her skin.
“Good,” I praise, continuing the unforgiving tempo of my fingers. I may not have done this in a very long time, but her body is made for me. Another reason I need this to stop.
She wants to tell me to go to hell, but she can’t. She locks eyes with me and we watch the strangers who wear our faces, staring back at us as I work her pussy passionately.
“Your entire family left. If your own family can’t love you, then what does that say about you?”
Her lower lip quivers, punching a hole straight through me, but I persevere. If I don’t, I will just drag her down with me. And I won’t do that to her. This is for her own good.
Adding to the insults, I grin. “But this is what you’ve wanted, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve practically begged for it since we met.”
Her beautiful green eyes fill with tears, tears which I instigated because I’m a cruel bastard who destroys everything I touch.
“Fuck you.” She thrashes against me in a half desperate attempt to flee. In response, I rub circles over her clit fervently.
She doesn’t want to feel this way about me, but she does. It takes all my willpower for my face and body not to betray my response to her. She is getting under my skin, and I need it to stop. She makes me want things I don’t deserve.
So I begin fingering her at a punishing speed, deeper and deeper as I work her clit as well. I get lost in the small whimpers slipping past her parted lips. The vision of us reflected in the mirror pleases me more than I care to admit. I am punishing myself as well as her.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing, darlin’,” I smugly counter, my aloofness having the desired effect. “Isn’t that what you’ve wanted me to do this entire time?”
“I hate you.” Her words are empty.
My body dwarfs hers, her supple body bending to my touch. She should be repulsed, and I know for the most part, she is, but a small, depraved part of her likes it. She likes me, regardless of what she says.
“You may hate me…” I whisper into her ear, “but your pussy certainly doesn’t.”
A tear trickles down her cheek, which is what I wanted, regardless of this heavy weight within my chest. “Why are you so m-mean?”
“It’s all I know how to be,” I confess with bitterness. “This is who I am.”
Angered at what I must do, I’m ruthless as I work her body fiercely, and with a feral hunger, I suck and bite at her soft skin. She shudders, and a sob tumbles from her mouth as she comes violently around my fingers.
I am transfixed by the mirror image—her cheeks are flushed, her hair wild, and her body contorts against me, milking everything I give because when she comes down from her high, she knows what this is. She knows what I’ve just done.
Even though the tremors still wrack her body, I slip my fingers from her pussy, instantly missing the warmth. She slumps forward with a whimper but ne
ver takes her eyes off me as I place my fingers, the same ones that were inside her seconds ago, into my mouth. Her taste is like a punch to my solar plexus—the most potent drug.
Rubbing her scent over my lips, I suckle my fingers, almost buckling. But I don’t let it show. I’m not done.
“No wonder he didn’t stick around…your apple pie looks a lot better than it tastes.” The words rattle in my cheeks when she spins, slapping me hard.
“Don’t you ever speak to me again.” Her chest heaves, and the flush to her body is because of me. But so are her tears.
She shoves past me, collecting her wig and glasses from the floor. She runs for the door, her feet skidding along the floor. When she opens the door and leaves me standing in the room alone, I realize this is the first time in a long time that I don’t want to be.
Lily
“Can we talk?”
Lost in my head, a place I’ve been in for the past few days, I look up from my desk and see Avery standing in the doorway. “Of course. You never have to ask me that.”
When she enters and shuts the door behind her, I know that whatever she wants to discuss can’t be good. This week can go to hell.
“Lily, I’m selling.”
“Selling what?” I ask, watching as she takes a seat in front of me.
“The studio,” she clarifies, while I almost choke.
“What? Why?” I manage to wheeze.
She nervously adjusts her crystal ballerina brooch. “It’s time to retire. I can’t keep up anymore—”
“Let me help,” I interrupt, unable to accept her words as truth. “I’ll work more. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
She smiles, but I’ve known Avery for the majority of my life. I know when her mind is made up. “It’s not that simple. No one wants to learn ballet anymore. Kids can become a ballerina by watching YouTube. I’m barely keeping this place afloat.”
What a sad, sad world we live in. “I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do?”
She shakes her head sadly. “I’ve spoken to a realtor. She thinks I can get a good price on the building. It’s in an up-and-coming neighborhood. They’ll probably tear it down and make apartments.”
My heart sinks at the prospect. “So you wouldn’t sell the studio as is? I mean, maybe someone else could take it over?” A small part of me hopes that maybe this doesn’t have to be so bad. Maybe someone can just buy her out. I’ll have a new boss, but that’s okay. I can live with that over the prospect of seeing a place I call my second home be torn down for another fucking high-rise.
But Avery sighs, putting an end to that fantasy. “Finding a buyer is going to take time. And”—her pause has me arching a brow—“that’s something I don’t have much of.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart constricting. I don’t understand.
When tears fill her eyes, everything comes crumbling to the ground. “Turns out that cough that wouldn’t go away was actually more serious than I thought.”
When I continue staring at her, eyes wide, she clarifies, “I have lung cancer, Lily. The doctors say I have one, two years if I’m lucky.”
“What?” Although I can hear her loud and clear, my brain refuses to process what she says. “No. That’s not p-possible.”
Avery is the healthiest person I know. She’s never smoked a day in her life. There has to be some mistake.
“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. But I saw my doctor last week. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” She wrings her wrinkled hands in front of her, while I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. “I was just trying to find the right time.”
“Please don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have gone with you.” If I wasn’t so lost in my head, I would have seen that something was wrong. “So you’re selling because you have to? Not because you want to?”
She nods sadly. “This place is my home. I have loved working here, working with you. I just can’t—” When her lower lip trembles, I jump up from my seat and throw my arms around her.
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Avery.” She sobs into my shoulder, clutching onto me with all her might. “I’m here for you. I promise. We will do this together.”
I’m trying to be strong for her because that’s what she’s been for me. When my own mother left me, she took on the role without a second thought. It’s now my turn to support her. “Leave everything to me, all right?”
She holds on tight, nodding quickly. “You’re not alone in this. You saved me once. And now it’s time I do the same.”
She doesn’t reply but, instead, allows me to comfort her because we’re family. And I will do anything to protect my family. Sometimes, life presents you with unseen opportunities, and although scary, you have to take a leap of faith.
Now is one of those times.
Lotus leans back in her seat, listening to me detail my current predicament. When I’m done, I exhale because I didn’t want to stop in the middle of my story. I was afraid of what she’d say because when her usual rosy complexion paled, I knew I was ripping out her heart.
She takes a minute to digest everything. “I’m so sorry to hear about Avery. I know she’s like a mother to you.”
I nod in gratitude, but brace for what’s to come.
“I can’t match what Carlos is offering you, Lily. I’m sorry. This place is barely surviving as it is. If I were to play favorites, it wouldn’t be fair to the other girls. Is there anything I can say to make you stay? I have a plan,” she reveals. “I just need a little time.”
“And that’s something I don’t have,” I sadly state. “I wouldn’t even consider this if I wasn’t desperate. You’ve been so good to me, but I have to think of my family.”
“Did what happen in the parking lot affect your decision also?”
Nodding, I shudder, thinking of my attacker’s hands around my throat. “It did. I just feel like it’s time to move on. It kills me to do this, but all these factors have helped make my decision.”
Lotus frowns, looking beyond exhausted.
I feel like an ungrateful bitch, but with everything that’s happened—the attack, Derrick knowing where I work, Avery’s health, and the son of a bitch whose name I refuse to use, it just feels like now is the time for a change.
I don’t want to work in a strip club forever, and if I can make enough money to buy the studio from Avery, then I won’t have to. She’s selling because she has to, but if I can afford to buy it, then she can stay there for as long as she wants.
She explained that the doctors suggested she try some trial treatments, but they’re not cheap. Even with her savings, it wouldn’t cover half the cost, which is why she needs to sell. I just need enough for a down payment and hopefully, the bank will lend me the rest.
I have a good savings account, but I want more, and I want it fast.
Avery is tired. I was too caught up in my own drama to see it. But now that I know what’s wrong, I will do everything in my power to make her life as easy as I can. Being an employee is a lot simpler than being an owner. And it’s time I help make Avery’s life simpler.
“When are you leaving?”
“Effective immediately,” I say, hating that my decision has hurt Lotus.
“Fuck.” She sighs, reaching for the bottle of vodka in front of her. “I assume you’ve called Carlos already?”
I nod.
Before I came here, I made the call to ensure Carlos and I were on the same page. I didn’t need the fancy shit he promised me. I just needed more money and wanted to make sure I didn’t have to pay him anything for dancing there—no tip-outs, offstage fees, or house fees. I told him what my conditions were and that I was going to ask Lotus first. If she couldn’t match what he was offering, then I would work for him.
He was cocky because he knew she couldn’t. I hate doing this, but my hands are tied.
“It must be me. Andre resigned this morning. And now you,” Lotus says, pouring herself a large glass of vodk
a.
“He resigned?” I can’t hide my surprise.
She nods while sipping her drink. “Yup. Said his talent wasn’t being appreciated, whatever the fuck that means because he has no talent.”
Now I feel like an even bigger asshole. “I’m sorry, Lotus. I really am. For what it’s worth, it’s me, not you.” The cliched line actually explains this situation perfectly.
Not wanting to draw out the inevitable, I stand and head to clear out my locker. I don’t want to make a fuss. Before I turn to leave, Lotus leaves me with some words of wisdom. “Don’t be fooled by him, Lily. There is a reason apart from your talent that he wants you. The Pink Oyster is always your home.”
This is why I respect and love Lotus so much. I’m the one leaving her, and here she is, offering me advice and a second chance in case things with Carlos don’t work out. “Thanks, and I won’t,” I reply, giving her a small smile before walking out the door.
I hide my tears as I’m not leaving because I hate my job—I’m leaving because I want to better the lives of the people I love. No one is in the dressing room, which is a relief. I want to slip away without any goodbyes.
It doesn’t take me long to pack everything I own into a small backpack, and when I shut my locker door, a sense of nostalgia overcomes me. I was so naïve when I first started here. So much has happened since that day. But you live and you learn, and this is me doing both.
Taking one last look at the dressing room, I have no regrets when I turn my back and walk out the door. My cell chimes and not looking where I’m going as I hunt through my bag for it, I bump straight into a wall. However, the wall smells like juniper and sin.
Peering up, I curse whatever gods are looking down at me, as they are clearly laughing at my expense. Memories of when I saw him last, of when he had his fingers on me, in me, assault me, and I kick my ass, yet again, for actually wasting my time on him.
I thought beneath Bull’s layers, there was a man misunderstood. But it seems I was the one who misunderstood because what you see is what you get, and what I got was clearly an asshole. But I was the bigger asshole for not seeing this sooner.
