Raw

by Belle Aurora

  Lord only knows what Ling made him do.

  Steeling my face, my jaw tics as I answer, “No. That isn’t something you see often. But yes, some women like that.” Wanting to punch myself in the face for using a label, I explain in a way he can understand better, “It’s not what’s considered normal though.”

  Nodding once more, I switch my attention to my computer screen and wave an arm his way. “Dismissed.”

  Sounding panicked once more, he states on a rush, “But you still haven’t given me anything to do!”

  “Get me some coffee. Make it strong and sweet with a dash of milk.”

  He rushes off to do that and I smile to myself. He’s eager to please. He’s polite. But he’s still street. I really like Michael. He’s everything I was before the world made me the bastard I am today. My only want for this boy is for his story to end differently from the way mine will. I want his story to be fairy-tale happy, not a drama.

  Lost in thought, Michael returns with my coffee. Standing, I meet him around the desk, take the mug from his hands, and sip. Mock-coughing, I sputter, “The hell did you put in this?”

  The look of horror on his face makes me laugh out loud. Chuckling, I clap him on the shoulder, “It’s perfect. Relax Michael. You did good.” Breathing heavily, he nods, and my smile falls away. I tell him honestly, “Relax, Mickey. You’re safe here.” Never having stopped nodding, he continues to do this as I ruffle his hair and push him away, “Find Happy and get to work, knucklehead.”

  If I had a kid like Michael, I’d make sure I taught him right. He’s good people.

  He trudges away, dragging his teenage sneaker-covered feet, and something strange happens.

  It takes me a minute to process the occurrence.

  The awkward and unwelcome feeling of happiness washes over me. It feels rough and uncomfortable.

  I don’t know if I like it. Yet.

  What I do know, is that I continue to work all day with a small smile on my face.

  Facing my computer screen, I hear a slight knock at my office door.

  A bored voice asks, “You wanted to see me?”

  Ling.

  Without looking at her, I jerk my chin and grunt.

  Closing the door behind her, she comes forward and sits in the guest chair. Already on the defensive, I spot her tight posture and rigid jaw. I ask her, “You have fun today with the boy?”

  As if she’s researched the facts – which no doubt she has – she fires off robotically, “Michael is seventeen. It’s not against the law. He’s above the age of consent in New South Wales. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Ling is hard to deal with. Like me, she has skewed view of right and wrong.

  “No. You’re right. It’s not illegal. Just immoral and unethical. Not to mention, you doing what you did at work.” Leaning closer to her, my eyes dart into hers. “And telling him I’d be angry at him if he didn’t fuck you is coercion. Coercion is almost as bad as rape in this state. Threatening him is most definitely illegal, and I don’t need that kind of trouble, Ling. You’re bringing me a shit storm. I can feel it.”

  Looking at nothing in particular, she sighs, frustrated. As if I’m a pain in her ass.

  My anger wells.

  “You’re no better than your father. Or your brothers. You’re just like them.” Her jaw steels; her eyes blaze. I continue, “You gonna groom the boy like they groomed you? Fuck him until he can’t see the wrong in it, then sell his body to every pedophile in Sydney? That your plan?”

  Jumping up, she screeches, “Fuck you! Fuck you, Twitch! I am nothing like them.”

  Shaking, she reaches up and fists her hair harshly. Letting out a pained wail, she hollers, “They did things. They did things to me. I was just a girl. I didn’t know!” Still pulling her hair, she whispers, “My family did bad things to me.”

  Seeing Ling fall apart is not something I like to see. She’s so strong, but with one mention of her family, she falls apart. They damaged her. Much like my family damaged me.

  We get each other.

  Mascara-soaked tears run down her cheeks as she trembles in anger. Walking around my desk and placing my hands on her hips, I pull her towards me. “I know, LingLing. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Sniffling, she whispers into my neck, “You saved me.”

  She calls it saving; I call it gaining a ruthless employee.

  Ling was working the streets when I found her. She was high when she approached me on a night out, and when I refused her advances, she pulled a knife on me. Not even as a threat. The stupid bitch was so fucked that she actually attempted to slit my throat while trying to grab my wallet from my pants pocket.

  I had two choices.

  Kill the bitch.

  Or employ the bitch.

  I chose the latter. She came to live with me. I forcefully detoxed her and hired a nurse to watch over her for a month. After that time, she was partly-human again. The first words Ling ever heard come out of my mouth were, “You owe me.”

  I fed her, gave her shelter, and dressed her up in the finest brands.

  And she was grateful.

  She showed me almost any time she could just how grateful she was.

  Never bothered me. Not until recently.

  Ling is a self-confessed sex addict. I tried to get her help once. Once.

  Then I found her eating out Dr. Laura McCullough.

  The doctor was kind enough to suck my cock as I watched her get licked six ways from Sunday. Although it was hot, I never took Ling back there.

  Ling pulls away from me. “You son of a bitch. Don’t ever bring up my family.” Angry once more, she slaps me right across the face and shrieks, “Not ever again!”

  Her heels clip-clop away and my office door slams shut.

  Rubbing my red, hot cheek, I smirk.

  Doesn’t take long to get her back to the way she was.

  Picking up my cell, I call Happy. The phone rings twice before he answers, “Yo.”

  Pursing my lips, I ask, “What do you know about lingerie?”

  A bark of a laugh, then, “Uh, I know women look good in it.”

  I chuckle, “No, I mean what do you know about brands of lingerie? Which ones are good and all that?”

  Humor colors his voice, “Maybe you should talk to Ling about this.”

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I tell him, “Nah. I pissed her off.”

  Happy sighs, “What she do now? You know she’s a liability, right?”

  “I know. But so am I.” Silence, then I blurt out, “I want to buy Lexi some lingerie.”

  He stalls a moment, then says in a sing-song voice, “Then I suggest you go shopping. Happy hunting.”

  He hangs up on me.

  I glare at my phone, then throw it onto my desk with a sigh.

  Shopping.

  How bad could it be?

  On edge from yesterday’s drug test, I jump when I hear the front door open.

  Three guesses to who it could be.

  Nikki, Dave, or Twitch.

  Seeing as I spoke to the first two and know they’re both busy tonight, by process of elimination, I go with option three.

  And boy, are we gonna have words today.

  Soon as I see him back through the front door, I start with, “You’ve got some nerv—”

  Stopping mid-sentence, my mouth gapes. Dragging bags, bags, and more bags behind him, he kicks the door shut, then says, “Could use a little help here, Angel.”

  The way he calls me Angel...he should not be allowed to call me Angel.

  I breathe, “Okay.”

  Standing in my sweats, tank, ratty hair, and reading glasses, I walk over to his tall suit-covered frame and take some of the bags from him. He takes off down the hall toward my bedroom and places the bags on the floor. Placing my haul of bags on the floor next to his, I watch as he starts turning the bags upside down.

  Clothes, accessories, and shoe boxes fall out onto my bed.

  And I’m just standing
here thinking, “Um…aren’t we pissed at each other?”

  I whisper, “What is all this?”

  Not answering my question, he tirades, “Did you know there’s a lady at the mall that you can hire to shop for you? All she needs is measurements and bam, she’s off. Like a fuckin’ machine. You tell her to spare no cost and she spares no cost.” He looks back over his shoulder at me with a knowing look, “Know what I mean?”

  Mouth still gaping, I manage an, “Uhh…”

  He points to random things on my bed. “Evening wear. Evening shoes. Work wear. Work shoes. Some dresses and everyday clothes. Necklaces and frilly shit. Hair stuff.” He grins, “And there are your delicates.”

  Delicates?

  Looking up at him with a frown, I lean over and peer into the bag he just pointed to. Picking up a lacey see-through teddy, I squeak, “Lingerie.”

  Shaking my head, I ask angrily, “What are you doing here? I haven’t heard from you in a week. You know? When you left me in your bed to recover from a virus and never even called to check up on me?”

  Twitch doesn’t flinch. “May not have called, but I knew you were fine. I always know. Just like I knew you needed help with your mandatory drug test, little one.”

  I bark back, “You didn’t think I wanted to see you? That maybe I needed yo—” I cut myself off. I won’t let him know how much I needed him then. How much it broke my heart that he could cut me out as if I were just another woman.

  He stills, then turns to me. “Needed what?”

  “I’d like for you to leave.”

  His eyes darken a shade. “Not before I get what I came for.”

  My voice drops marginally, “Wh-what did you come for?”

  Slowly walking towards me with a purpose, I know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it.

  “What you owe me.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed, holding my head in my hands, elbows to my knees.

  Lightly rocking on the balls of my feet, I argue with myself.

  The fuck are you doing? Enough. This has to stop.

  The CD player on the dresser plays softly. One More Night by Maroon 5 plays.

  “There you go again makin’ me love you.”

  “You stuck on my body, on my body like a tattoo.”

  My light rocking becomes harsher and harsher, bordering violent. My jaw sets and I squeeze my eyes shut tight. My face contorts with hate and anger. The hands at my head fist tightly. Gritting my teeth, I smack them hard into my brows.

  Rage coils low in my gut.

  Standing suddenly, I walk over to the dresser and pick up the CD player, yanking the cord out of the wall. Walking with a purpose over to the open window, I throw the CD player out as hard as I can and shut the window.

  A muffled crash sounds.

  I take it in.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply and wait patiently for my heart rate to return to normal.

  Turning, I look over to the bed where she sleeps.

  Only her bright blue eyes are open. And she saw what I just did.

  I’m not used to people being around when I get angry.

  She lies on her stomach, her naked back looking pale in the moonlight. The sheet rests low on her back, barely covering her sweet ass. She looks at me without judgement or anger.

  And for a second, I’m taken back to a time long forgotten. A time when life was good.

  Running a hand through my hair, I sigh and move over to the bed. Sitting next to her, I move her dark hair off her shoulder. I run my fingertips gently from her shoulder, down to her elbow, and back up.

  “Hey.” I quietly greet her.

  She replies cautiously, “Hey.”

  My face softens at the sound of her voice. Fuck.

  “I’ll replace the CD player.”

  Her face remains passive as she replies gently, “It’s okay. I wanted a new one anyways and you just gave me a reason to get it.”

  Fuck me.

  Can I do no wrong in this woman’s eyes?

  The niggling remains of my previous episode return and I glare at her. She stills immediately and her eyes become fearful. I chuckle humorlessly, “Babe. Seriously. You’re too smart to be with a person like me, and you’re definitely smarter than being one of those chicks who fucks a guy like me. But I get that you’re diggin’ slumming it.” A cruel smile appears on my lips. “After all, the good girl always wants the bad boy. Doesn’t she?”

  Sitting up in the bed, the sheet falls and I’m graced with her naked beauty.

  Her beautiful eyes are now sad and misting. Her face is pure fury. So angry she’s shaking, she whispers, “Get out.”

  I chuckle low in my throat and roll my eyes at the show she’s putting on. My laughter is cut short when the bedside lamp flies by me and smashes into the wall by my head. Broken glass falls to the floor by my feet.

  I turn my glare on her, “You could’ve taken my eye out, Lexi. Fuck!”

  Standing and walking across the room, she picks up a crystal vase and throws it at me, hard. I catch it mid-air as she shrieks, “I said get the fuck out, Twitch!”

  Tears fall down her angry face; her body trembles in anger, and I feel like an asshole.

  I can’t let that show though. It’s not part of who I am. Not anymore, anyways.

  Placing the vase on the desk by the door, I wordlessly slip on my slacks, then my shoes; I take my shirt and jacket in my hands and leave.

  Closing the door behind me, Lexi lets out a pained wail.

  And there it is.

  Just a reminder of why we can’t ever be together.

  I thought long and hard about what happened with Twitch last night. I thought for hours and hours about how I feel, and thought even more about what needs to be done.

  My mind made up, I decide to visit him at work. And it’s only when I approach his office that I still in front of the door and realize how stupid I must be.

  But if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it. So I have to do this. Right now.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.

  Entering without knocking, his irritated face looks to see who has interrupted him. When he sees me, his brows rise in surprise, but he covers it all too quickly. Looking back down at the computer, he types and mutters, “Kinda busy here. What do you need, Lexi?”

  Lexi. Not Angel.

  I close the door behind me and move two steps forward. My bravado runs out of the open window. “I-I think you need to get some help,” I say weakly.

  His face hardens. His eyes turn cold.

  Losing what little courage I think I have, my voice wavers. “Seeing a psychiatrist isn’t a bad thing, Twitch. I do myself.”

  He stands suddenly. His chair hits the wall with a bang. I jolt. He orders, “Get out.”

  When he sees I don’t mean to move, he stalks around his desk slowly, like a predator.

  A lion going in for the kill.

  And I’m just as petrified as I’m sure the antelope would be.

  When he’s a foot away from me, I whisper, “You don’t have to live like this, Twitch.”

  His eyes close. “I said get out.”

  “It’s a means to an end.”

  His jaw tics. “Get out, Alexa.”

  “You’ll feel like a new person.”

  His eyes snap open. Leaning in until we’re nose-to-nose, he grits his teeth and hisses, “Get the fuck out, bitch.”

  The insult slides right off me. Being a case worker, I know how people’s defence systems work, and besides, I’ve been called worse. Trembling, I decide to try something.

  Something incredibly stupid.

  Slowly reaching up with shaking hands, I cup his cheeks gently. His jaw spasms under my palms, and his cold, narrowed eyes meet mine. I whisper, “You don’t want to hurt me.”

  He spits, “If anyone gets to hurt you, it should be me.”

  My heart skips a beat. A cruel smirk spreads across his face. “What’s the matter, Lexi? Are you scared?�
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  I blink.

  My breath stutters. “You’re terrifying.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  “Because you need help.”

  “Not from you.”

  “If I don’t, who will?”

  His eyes flash once more before he closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to mine. He says hoarsely, “I’m gonna hurt you.” A statement.

  My heart races, but my hands grip his cheeks tighter. “You won’t. I have faith in you.”

  I watch him squeeze his eyes shut further. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.”

  He lowers his demanding mouth to mine and I slump into him. He forces brutal, punishing kisses on me. And I take them, kissing back just as fiercely. His tongue strokes my lower lip as he grinds his erection into my hip.

  Heat singes my insides.

  My hands slide down his cheeks and back, to circle his neck. I need to get closer to him.

  Pulling his head, I connect our mouths again and moan. He tastes so good. Like candy and scotch. I’ve never tasted anything more intoxicating in my life.

  I’m beginning to understand the term love-drunk.

  Without warning, his muscular arms wrap around my waist, lifting me. My legs circle his lean, muscular hips, and he walks me over to his desk.

  I know what’s coming. I should stop it. I really should.

  But I can’t.

  I want it. Really bad.

  My core floods. Twitch has that sordid effect on me.

  Turning me almost harshly, he pushes on my back, hard, and my stomach meets the desk. My hands, having a mind of their own, meet behind my back, and he grips them tightly in one of his own. Lifting my skirt, he tugs on my panties and they’re gone. Just like that.

  Although I can’t see him, I feel him. His free palm slides down my back to my ass, squeezing before I hear him expel a heavy breath while his fingertips trail the backs of my thighs. Letting go of my hands, he orders a gruff, “Keep ‘em there. Don’t fucking move, Lexi.”

  Linking my pinkie fingers behind my back, my pussy clenches when his fingertip trails my wet slit. I shiver. I hear him suck his finger while making a mmm sound. My hips jerk.

  I need him so bad. And I know he can feel it. He’s torturing me purposely.