Twisted with Chaos: A CASH BAR NOVEL

by Faiman, Hayley

  “Hey, Houston,” she rasps.

  Her palm presses against my chest, her wild eyes search my own. She ain’t right, she looks high, but I’m a fucking bastard and it doesn’t make me want her any goddamn less.

  “You know my name, Roxanne,” I grunt.

  She smiles. “Tanner,” she exhales. “Are you going to fuck me tonight?” she asks, her lips parted and her breathing becoming heavier. I glance down to her tits, watching her chest rise and fall. Lifting my hand, I use my finger and make a trail down her collar between her soft tits.

  “That what you want, Firefly?” I ask, keeping my voice low and even.

  She makes a whimpering sound, her eyes closing. “Doesn’t matter what I want,” she breathes.

  Yeah, I get that. I fucking get that shit better than she could ever imagine. Her best friend’s son, Axe, has been found. Tonight is her last night here. She wanted to stay until he was located, until her people were safe and happy. Carson and Axe are her people, too. She needs them just as much as they need her.

  Lowering my head, I press my forehead against her own. “This is our last night together, let’s not beat around the bush, or spend it in this room with a hundred other people,” I suggest.

  She inhales deeply, then lets out her breath. “Our last night,” she repeats with a nod.

  Without another word, she reaches for my hand, lacing her fingers in mine, she tugs me toward my room. She knows where I sleep, she’s been staying in my space for the past few days. She may not want to admit that we’re more than a casual fuck, but we are.

  Roxanne is everything I never thought I wanted. She’s mine. She’s fucking crazy. She’s up one minute, down the next. She’s impulsive, social, unfocused, restless, and fucking perfect for me.

  Once we walk into my bedroom, I close and lock the door behind me, never looking away from her. She stands at the foot of my bed, her bright eyes taking me in. She’s definitely riding a high today, her depression taking a backseat, at least for the moment. It reminds me of the moment I first laid eyes on her.

  “When you get your shit in order, you’re coming back here and we’re going to move in together,” I announce.

  Her eyes widen, her pink tongue sneaks out and tastes her bottom lip. I want to take it between my teeth, suck it deep and bite it before I release. I want to do that with everything on her body. Her nipples, the soft flesh of her tits, her thighs, her pussy lips, her clit—every square inch of her supple sweet body.

  “I’m not coming back here, Tanner,” she whispers.

  My eyes snap up to hers, a smirk appearing on my lips, only there to hide the fear behind my masked features. She can’t leave me, I won’t fucking allow it. Taking a step forward, I shake my head. “You will, you’ll get your head on straight and you’ll come home to me, Roxie, where you’re meant to be. My little Firefly.”

  Reaching out to her, I wrap my hand around the side of her neck, my thumb tracing her jawline. Her eyes water, she tries to shake her head, but my grip is a little too tight. “I’m sorry, Tanner,” she rasps.

  Dipping my chin, I press my lips against hers, just holding them there, but not kissing. “Firefly, you will come back to me. Focus on you, focus on healing, then we’ll work on us.”

  “Don’t wait for me,” she breathes.

  Smashing my lips against hers, I refuse to acknowledge her words. I’ll wait for her, I’ll wait as long as she needs me to wait. Moving my hand from her neck, I slide it down until I reach her top. Tugging the collar of her shirt and bra down simultaneously, I curl my fingers around her tit and squeeze roughly.

  Roxanne rips her lips from mine, letting out a long moan as her head falls back. My lips travel the column of her neck, down to the center of her chest. Slipping my tongue from my mouth, I taste down the middle of her tits, moving over to her breast. Using my other hand, I free her other tit from her top and bra, my mouth immediately finding her nipple and sucking her in deep, the way I know she craves.

  “Tanner, God I need you,” she sighs.

  Pinching her opposite nipple at the same time I nip my teeth at the one that has my mouth’s focus, my lips move down her clothed body. Without being asked, without even a second of hesitation, she yanks her shirt over her head, tugs her bra off and throws both somewhere in the room. My knees hit the floor, my hands move down her body until they reach the bottom of her skirt.

  “Take this fucking skirt off and sit on the edge of the bed,” I order, my voice gruff.

  I stay on my knees, watching as she shimmies out of her too tight, too short skirt, then groan when she reveals that she’s not wearing any panties. She turns from me, giving me a view of her spectacularly plump ass. I grunt, waiting for her to do what I’ve demanded of her.

  When she turns, she sits on the edge of the bed and spreads her legs without a single word, causing my cock to twitch. Her pretty, soft, pink pussy is on display for me, and me alone. Other men have had it, I know that. But no other man will have it again, not if I have anything to say about it.

  Closing the distance between us, me on my knees, her above me, as she’ll always be. Always above me in any way that matters, my Roxanne—my Firefly.

  Flattening my tongue, I taste her entire center, swirling around her clit when I’ve reached the sweet nub. She lifts one hand, running her fingers through my hair, gripping me at the back of my head. I bury my face in her cunt, my tongue flicking her clit before I fuck her with it. I can feel her thighs tremble next to my head, spurring me to focus on her clit even more.

  Slipping two fingers inside of her warm center, I grip the inside of her thigh with my other hand and hold her leg open. Her head drops back, and I hear her cries before I taste her release on my tongue. Her pussy squeezes my fingers, but I don’t stop, not until her entire body goes limp.

  Slowly, I remove my fingers from her pussy and stand. Her eyes look up at me. No longer are they manic and wild, instead, she looks calm, satisfied. I shrug out of my cut, laying it neatly on the end of the bed. Lifting my hand behind my back, I grab ahold of the back of my shirt and tug it over my head, tossing it to the floor as I unbutton my jeans.

  Once I’m completely naked, I wrap my fist around my hard cock and squeeze to relieve the tension. Roxanne looks up at me, her eyes wide and her breathing coming out in short pants. She wants me, she wants this, and fuck, but it feels good to be wanted the way she does right now. She doesn’t want the man in the cut or the war veteran. She wants me—she wants Tanner Bryant. It’s been a fuck’ve a long time since anyone has wanted him.

  Releasing my cock, I place my palm against her chest and gently push her onto her back. Wrapping one of my hands back around the inside of her thighs, I spread her wide while I use my other hand to guide my dick into her waiting center. Once I’m buried completely inside of her, I use my now free hand to press her other thigh down, spreading her as wide as possible as I look down into her eyes.

  “Tanner,” she breathes.

  I grin, grinding my pelvis against her clit once. Her breath hitches with her sensitivity from her recent orgasm. “You’re coming back here after you get your head straight,” I announce.

  She shakes her head but thankfully doesn’t speak. I don’t want to hear her bullshit. She’s coming back, even if I have to drag her here. She may hate me, but fuck, she’s mine. I want her.

  Tilting my head down, I watch our connection, unable to look into her eyes as I fuck her. I watch the way her pussy takes me, the way my cock glistens with her wetness as I fuck her. She stretches around my dick, so full of me, the way my heart and soul is fucking full of her too.

  My back tingles, my balls draw up and I know that I’m close to exploding with my release. Moving one of my hands, I press my thumb against her clit, my breathing heavy as I play that sweet little nub until she’s just as close as I am.

  I make her come, then I let myself go into her pulsing pussy, filling her full of me. Hoping that it’s enough that she doesn’t fucking forget me. That i
t’s enough to keep her, to make her want to come back to me and stay at my side.

  Only when we’ve both recovered from our orgasms, do I lift my head, my eyes find hers as my cock softens inside of her sweet cunt. She looks at me, the demons returning behind her gaze.

  “You’re coming back to me,” I demand.

  Her bottom lip trembles and she lifts her hand to my cheek. Her thumb runs along my mouth, and her eyes roam over my face as if she’s trying to memorize my looks, like she’s not going to come back to me.

  She’ll be back.

  I won’t rest fully until she’s in my bed again. Sane, healthy, and happy. She’s meant to be mine, just as I’m meant to be hers. We have found one another, against all odds, and I aim to keep her.

  ROXANNE

  I look at the building in front of me, no, it’s not just a building. It’s a clinic, an inpatient clinic. Turning my gaze back to Tanner, I let out a sigh. This is it. I won’t ask him to walk me inside, I won’t ask him for anything more. He’s done more than enough for me over the past few weeks.

  Taking a step backward, I’m surprised when he reaches out, wrapping his hand around my hip and tugs me forward. I become off-balance and fall against his chest. Tipping my head back, I look up into his beautiful face. He’s that, too—downright gorgeous.

  He doesn’t look like the rough and tumble men that he associates with. He’s clean shaven, his hair neat and always freshly cut. His body is out of this world with lean muscle stacked on lean muscle. He looks young, like a baby, but I know he’s less than three years younger than me, he’s thirty to my thirty-three.

  I know that he’s been through hells that I could only imagine as a veteran. He’s seen things that I couldn’t even fathom, and yet, we’re cut from the same kind of cloth, just sewn together with different stitching. He wants me to come back to him, but I’m not willing to saddle him with the woman that I am for the rest of his life, he’s too good of a man, he doesn’t deserve that.

  He thinks that me coming here for a few months is going to cure me, he keeps telling me that once I get my head on straight, we can move forward. He doesn’t understand my illness at all. He doesn’t understand that there is no better.

  My head will never be straight. I will never be normal. I will always be this way, always, until the day that I die. I am crazy and although I’ve come to terms with that over the past eighteen years, I also know that I will never burden another human with the person that I am, at least not for a lifetime.

  “You get done here, however long it takes, you come home to me, Firefly,” he rasps, his lips just a whisper away from my own.

  I close my eyes, his words are physically painful to hear. “I can’t,” I say, my voice breaking.

  He pulls me against him, jerking my body roughly, his lips crashing against mine in a hard, ruthless kiss. An owning kiss. He does own me, this man that I never thought could possibly exist. If I could get better, if I could be his woman, I would happily wear his tattooed name across my skin.

  “You will, Firefly. Come home to me, Roxanne. I need you,” he breathes against my lips.

  Taking a step back, I look into his gorgeous green eyes and I memorize them for the last time. “I’ll try,” I lie. He smirks as if he can read my mind, knowing the words for what they are—a lie.

  “Don’t make me wait too long,” he calls out as I turn away from him.

  Looking back over my shoulder, I give him a smile all the while my heart breaks. It shatters into a million little shards right there on the sidewalk of the inpatient clinic for the crazy people like me. Inhaling a deep breath, I turn my head, look straight forward and force myself to walk into the building.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HOUSTON

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  I squeeze the phone in my hand. I want to break it in half. I want to throw it across the room, smash it into a million pieces and be done with the fucking thing. Though, my anger is misdirected. I’m not really pissed off at the goddamn phone, I’m pissed off at Roxanne.

  She’s not taking my calls. She’s sending all of my letters back unopened, well, I only wrote two. Still, I put forth the fucking effort, and it’s not like I can walk into the secure facility and demand to see her. I’m stuck holding my dick in my hand, hours away, and unable to do a fucking thing about it.

  Lifting the beer to my lips, I take a pull. Cash Bar is packed today, more so than usual. The asbestos crew has left the area, their work finished and on to the next job. I don’t know where these people have come from.

  Maybe it’s just because it’s a nice day, the snow is melting, and people are out and about, or maybe something else is going on. I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck. I have one thing and one thing only on my mind. In fact, she hasn’t left my mind in two long assed fucking months.

  “You want another?” Esme asks me.

  Swinging my gaze up to her, I notice that her smile is sad as she looks down on me. She pities me. Fucking pity. I know what that looks like, and it’s written all over her pretty face. Lifting my finger, I jerk my chin to affirm another without having to say the words. I’m drowning myself, I have been drowning myself for weeks.

  “You need to get your head on straight. Brothers are starting to talk,” a voice announces from across my small round table.

  Turning my head from Esme’s retreating form, I look at the man across from me. A goddamn contradiction as he speaks to me. “Yeah, okay, Crooner,” I mumble.

  “Not trying to bust your balls, but brother, that bitch is not the only crazy woman on the planet. You want to fuck crazy, you want crazy, you can go pretty much anywhere and find crazy,” he chuckles.

  I know he means well. I know he’s not being disrespectful toward Roxanne. He thinks I only want her because I have some need to fix her. He’s right. I do want to fix her, but not because I feel a sense of duty or some knight syndrome. I want her to feel good, to be healthy, and above all I want her to be happy.

  With me she would be happy, I know it. Her self-doubt won’t allow her to believe that I could make her happy, or that she would, in turn, make me happy. She needs someone to show her, her worth. Her ex, Tim, didn’t do that. He exploited her issues. He manipulated her to keep her at his side, because he was fucking lacking, not her.

  “She’s the only crazy I want,” I shrug.

  Crooner shakes his head, then lifts his chin somewhere behind me. “He’s a goddamn goner,” he calls out.

  “Told ya,” a voice says.

  Turning around, I see Keys with his arm around his woman, Carson’s, waist. She gives me a sad look, almost mimicking Esme’s. Fucking pity. Standing, I decide to leave the bar. There are too many people, too many people that know my shit and somehow think I want their opinions or their pity. I don’t want it, any of it. There’s only one thing I want and that’s Roxanne. I want her safe, happy, and healthy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Climbing onto my bike, I ride out of the Cash Bar and into the dark night. The wind washes over my face as I speed around the curves of the country road in front of me. I don’t stop, I don’t know where I’m going, and I don’t care.

  I just need to ride. To think. I feel free. I know that I’m not. I’m shackled, my heart and soul bound to that little firefly of crazy who won’t let me in, not even a goddamn inch.

  I’m not going to give up on her—on us. I will fight for her, for us, for my fucking self until I have nothing left inside of me. I’ve been in enough battles to know that shit can get really fucking bad, that you can be at the point of losing all hope before you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  There will be light, too.

  Roxanne is my fucking light.

  I’ll fight for her to the death.

  ROXANNE

  ONE MONTH LATER

  “Tell us how you came here, we know about your childhood. About your diagnosis and what you did that lead your mother to have you evaluated. We know about your important relationships
and the abuse you suffered from your latest long-term relationship, but you haven’t told anyone how you ended up here, from Texas,” the group therapist rambles.

  I narrow my eyes on him, not wanting to tell anyone about Houston, about the time I spent with him and how much he truly means to me. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to admit how much he means to me, to myself. If I do that, then I’ll want him right now. I want to contact him, to go back to him, but it’s too selfish.

  I’m more coherent right now than I have ever been, and my stance is still the same. I can’t ruin his life with my illness. I’ll never get better. I’ll never give him children. I’ll never be the woman he needs. I know all of these things to be true, and yet, it doesn’t stop my heart from aching inside of my chest. It fucking hurts, so damn bad.

  “I fell in love with someone. I never believed in love at first sight until I laid eyes on him,” I begin.

  Looking down in my lap, I lace my fingers together and try to fidget. “I could feel myself spiraling. It wasn’t the worst I’d ever been, but the worst was on its way. It was as if I could actually feel the shift inside of me. The meds were completely out of my system. The high was so high. Leaving Tim and driving across the United States, it was amazing,” I continue.

  Taking a deep breath, I lift my eyes, avoiding the other patients’ gazes. I know they’re looking at me, but I can’t deal with their look of pity. They’ve been through some of the same things that I have, some worse, some not quite as bad. But our journeys are all similar. No one person’s sickness is worse than another’s.

  “What happened when you crashed from your high?” the therapist asks. He knows the way this works. He knows that every high comes with an equally or more devastating low.

  “Depression set in almost as soon as we settled in Canada, in our new home. I stopped sleeping, became almost catatonic. Houston knew something was wrong. He’s former military, a veteran who has been through war and has PTSD. He knew something was very wrong with me, but he didn’t know what exactly. He only wanted to help me,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.