by Nina Lincoln
Clenching my fist against my chest where the anger and sadness burn, I watch helplessly. There’s nothing I can do from here, and I’m afraid if I go up to that ring and expose my fear and longing, he’ll reject me.
Following Hayden through the crowd blindly, I can’t take my eyes off of Colt. Although he’s clearly winning, there’s no victory, just a grim acceptance as he pounds on the guy now lying supine on the mat.
“How long has he been doing this?” I shout over the din.
Hayden turns to me and says, “Fighting? For years.”
“What? I didn't know that,” I exclaim, disappointed to find there's more to Colt than even the stuff I’ve gleaned. Just how much shit is he hiding behind his pretty grey eyes?
“He doesn’t or didn't do it so much this year. I’m sure you can imagine why,” he says, giving me a knowing look.
Thinking back, I do recall a few times he showed up with a black eye or bruised face. Was it because he was here, fighting?
“Why?” I ask bewildered.
Maggie mentioned Colt was fighting and getting into trouble over his fucking family, but I would never have imagined it was here, doing this.
Hayden shrugs, “Why not? He makes money and gets his aggression out.”
“But…” I mutter, but it's lost to the noise as Hayden pushes through the crowd.
Annoyed, I try to keep up, but soon he’s several feet ahead of me, and people are pushing me this way and that. I’m not exactly tall nor aggressive, so I find myself to the side of the path Hayden is currently on, following along the wall.
The dick doesn’t even bother to look back. So much for ‘stick with me’ - asshole.
The back of my neck tingles, and uneasily I look around. I shouldn't be here, and I definitely shouldn't be in the vicinity of Colt.
Regardless of our combined misery, the heartache is better than death, and at this point, I’m pretty sure my fan is willing to go that far to get what he wants.
Shivering, I pick up the pace.
Colt is pronounced the winner, and the crowd goes wild, the screams ringing in my ears. Desperately I try to see Hayden over the people around me, but he’s well and truly gone.
Shit. Pulling out my phone, I search for his number, but it's pulled from my hand before I can dial, and I glance up with dread.
It just goes to show how fucked up my fan is for me to be relieved to see Buck, my almost rapist standing before me. He looks good for a piece of shit. His light hair is gelled back, and his green eyes leer at me as he clutches the phone in his hand and looks me over. I’d like to say it was with simple curiosity, but with this dick, it's never that. Nope, his stare is avid and grotesque.
Folding my arms over my chest, I glare at him for good measure and demand, “Give me back my phone.”
He chuckles, mimicking me, “You’ll get your phone when I’m good and ready.”
“Fuck you, dick. Give it to me,” I grit between my teeth.
I’m so fucking tired of boys like Buck who think they can take what they want. He wants to fuck with me? Bring it because I’m just mad enough he won’t like the fucking outcome.
“Oh, ho. What’s this? Are you mad?” he snivels, grinning at me widely.
Sighing, I mutter, “What do you want?”
“Just to say hi, pretty Finn. We never got to finish what we started.”
“Uh, yeah, if you mean you raping me, then no. We’re done.”
“Aww, don't be like that, you know you wanted it. You practically begged me with your pretty titties in my face,” Buck says. Jerk.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “For the record, you didn't do dick in the seduction department. I’d rather fuck a ninety-year man. As for me, ‘begging for it’ just goes to show you don't know your way around a woman’s body.”
Smiling triumphantly, I wait for it, as his eyes darken and his mouth pulls back in a snarl because jerks like him can’t have a civilized conversation.
“Bitch, you were begging for my dick,” he says, clutching his crotch lewdly.
“Yeah, not so much. What do you want, Buck?”
“I want that dick, Colt, to pay. And you’re going to help me. How’s it feel to be passed over for the next pussy in line?”
“It feels pretty amazing,” I say dryly. “Are you asking me to help you get back at your brother? You know, the one who beat your ass fair and square in the ring?”
“You little bitch,” he seethes, “I see he’s still got his clutches in you. Even after all the games, you’re still panting after his ass. Sarah hasn't set you straight yet?”
At the mention of Sarah, my amusement fades. Taking its place is worry because she still hasn't resurfaced, and I don't know what that means. Is she dead? Her parents must be so worried, and if she’s not dead, is she somewhere alone, scared, hurt?
Fuck.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I look into Buck’s face and say, “What’s your beef with him anyway? He’s your brother.”
His eyes fall flat, and I suppress a shiver. Whatever is brewing between the two of them, it’s dark and ugly. But why? Does this go back to Colt’s hatred of his rich bitch stepmother or something more?
Of course, Buck’s not exactly a great guy. Maybe it’s as simple as that.
“Fuck off, that trash isn’t my family. He’s the whore’s spawn.”
“Wow, you’re a complete dick! Celia isn’t a whore. The only whore I see is your piece of shit father.”
He chuckles darkly, “You don’t know shit, and I’m tired of this. Stay out of my fucking business.”
Suddenly weary, I blow out a breath and mutter, “Listen, even if Colt were the lowest lifeform on the planet, I wouldn't help you get to him. I hate you. You’re a piece of shit who doesn't understand the word no. And for the record, you’ll never compare to him because he’s a fucking god, and you’re a fucking loser.”
With that, I grab my phone out of his hand, and taking advantage while he stares at me incredulously, I knee him in the nuts.
Gasping, he bends over, clutching his dick, and I lean into his face and sneer, “What’s the matter, Buck? You wanted it, right?”
He’s too busy caressing his junk to respond, and rolling my eyes, I step around him, right into Colt, who now looms over me. He’s put his shirt back on, but fuck if it doesn’t cling to his sweat, molding to his muscles beautifully.
My body tingles at the sight, and my fingertips itch to trace the lines and curves I know so well as I stare at him lustfully.
He clears his throat, and I look up into his beautiful light eyes, catching my breath at the fire staring back at me. He’s molten and hot, needy, and raw, and my body pulses painfully at the message until Buck breaks the spell, gasping behind me.
Colt’s mouth twists into a feral snarl, and with a look of pure hate, he moves to pass me, but I grab his arm and plead at him with my gaze. His bright eyes caress my face before, with flared nostrils, he spins, and I don't protest when he grabs my hand and pulls me along behind him.
Down a hall, we go and around a corner before we’re inside a locker room, and he’s pushing me against the door.
My body immediately pulses in anticipation, shuddering under the feel of his chest heaving against me while my heart beats so hard it could fly out of my chest.
We speak no words as we come together heatedly, his mouth mashed against mine, his tongue surging inside and lapping around before sucking my tongue ravenously.
Thrashing against him, I grab his hair and pull it as I meet his thrusts brutally, and we kiss until we can no longer breathe, pulling away with panting breaths.
Abruptly he drops to his knees, and gasping, I buck into his mouth after he pulls my pants down and sucks my clit into his mouth.
I’ve craved his touch for so long - I’m always ready when he’s around, and shouting, I end on a long moan as he brings me to orgasm quickly.
Once I shoot over, he slows his movements, gently sucking me while I shudder and pulse a
bove him, and as soon as the waves of pleasure fade and I collapse against the wall, he’s back on me again, slurping my clit into his mouth roughly.
“Colt!” I cry as pleasure-pain surges inside me brutally, riding on waves of heat.
Lapping me up hungrily, he groans low in his throat before switching out his mouth for his fingers, shoving his tongue inside of me, and running his tongue along my walls.
Convulsing again, I fly over in waves of painful pleasure when he simultaneously twirls my bud between his fingertips.
It’s too much too fast. It’s fucking everything.
Standing quickly, his chest heaving, his mouth shiny from my core, Colt licks his lips slowly as he looks into my eyes and drops his shorts, tugging on his erection heatedly.
I moan at the sight, thrusting my hips from the wall, and his mouth curls up in a wicked smile as he picks me up and enters me in one quick thrust.
“Oh God,” I cry out as flutters of pleasure surge through me again.
Leaning my head against the wall as he fucks me heatedly, pounding into me with abandon, I open my eyes to his burning gaze, his grey eyes flayed open.
Pain and pleasure, love and need, regret it all shines back at me as he reaches down, twists my clit between his fingers, and I explode.
With a grunt, he pulls me close and bottoms out, closing his beautiful eyes for a moment with a painful grimace before they fly open again. My heart pulses painfully, caught in the intensity of his gaze, as we stare at each other, everything we want to say but can't put into words passing between us.
He’s so far inside of me, and it feels so good, as he orgasms that I don't want this to end, but unfortunately, the intimacy is broken when someone tries to open the door and finds it locked.
Sighing, I lean against his shoulder and hold back a sob. I miss him, and I can’t fucking breathe when he’s not around.
“Hey! Open the fucking door!” The jerk says as he pounds on the wood.
Colt slowly drops me to my feet, sliding from me, and grimly, I watch the walls fall over his eyes. Unable in this intimate moment to see his fucking icy cold stare, I turn my head away, but he steps into me and turns me back with a gentle caress of my cheek.
Reluctantly I glance up, relieved to see he’s looking at me with an earnest expression, no ice in sight.
“Wait for me,” he says gruffly.
“Huh?” I ask, breathless under the gentle caress.
“You want me to fight for you? I will, I am. But I need you to wait for me. Don't give up.”
“I don't understand,” I say, bewildered, hope surging through me painfully.
This is what I wanted to hear from him, but I haven't seen much fighting or begging for that matter.
“Princess,” he growls, pulling me close and leaning his head against my chest.
Clutching his head to me, I run my hands through his sweaty hair and sigh as he shudders around me. He feels so right against me. I can't let this go. I could never let it go. Right or wrong, good or bad, I need him, and I think he needs me too. Without him, my soul is a shriveled raisin of misery, and even just standing with him now makes it sing in my chest.
Is this true love? Who the fuck knows, but I’m never gonna find out if I don't start taking some risks.
*****
I left Colt at Fight Club with his whispered promises ringing in my ear. He didn't say when or even how, just looked at me with his intense eyes and then kissed me goodbye, all of which, the kiss included, left me breathless and needy.
The following morning, I find another letter from my dad sitting on the dining room table. Maggie’s sleeping upstairs, so I open the damn thing and sit down on the couch to read it grimly.
Finn,
I thought I might hear from you after my last letter? You run out of paper or something? I’m disappointed, Finn. Blood is thick, daughter. Always remember that.
Not much to report here. Every day is the same. Strangely, I’m considered a celebrity. I guess even prisoners watch football. The highlight of my day is shooting the shit about old times. Man, I miss those days.
Nothing compared to holding that damn ball in my hands.
How’s school treating you? I hope you’re not going to that damn school your mom described, the shithole—the stories she’s used to tell. Anyway, you picked a college yet? Maybe you can go to my alma mater, eh? Take after your old dad? I’m thinking business is your best bet. You’re smart, Finn. You just need to step out of your comfort zone.
Your granddad reached out. He’d like to hear from you…
By now, you’ve heard about my appeal. As I’m sure you can imagine, it’s slow going, but I’m hopeful. When I get out, Finn, we’re gonna be back to how we were. I’m looking forward to spending time with you. Don’t worry, my lawyer thinks there’s a good chance. If that asshole judge had just approved the change of venue, to begin with, I might not even be here now.
I’ve been thinking, not much more to do here. Remember the time we went on vacation to New Orleans? You were so scared to walk through the cemeteries but loved the parades. That was a fun time. I wish we could go back, start over.
But I guess there are no do-overs.
Well, kid, I’m closing out. Send me a note. Let me know you’re alive.
Love, Dad
Running my fingers over the letters, I stare at it absently. In some ways, I’m still shocked he has no insight into his own clearly deep-seated neuroses, but I guess I shouldn't be...he couldn't figure out how selfish and crazy he was before. Why should it be any different now?
That trip to New Orleans is emblazoned on my brain, but not because it was fun. No, Dad harped on us the whole time, pouted when we got tired, and at one point pulled my mom into the adjoining room and did god knows what to her.
That evening she stayed in bed ill while we went to dinner, and I’ll never forget his lighthearted demeanor as though beating the shit out of your wife was just another thing. Gotta keep the bitch in line, eh?
Yeah, by the time we got home from that trip, I was grim-faced and sad. My mom hid her bruises behind heavy makeup, and we no longer complained in his presence. He was the devil riding our shoulder, and we never could escape his mean.
I’m tempted to write back just to tell him how much I hate him and let him know since he’s clearly fucking delusional, that I’d never be around him again. But it's not worth it, and he doesn't understand. He never will.
And the letters - they’re just a ploy to keep me under his thumb. I don’t need to know what he has to say, and if he does by some fucking fluke get out of prison, you better believe I’ll be first in line at the prosecutor’s office to volunteer to testify again.
Feeling strangely peaceful on the matter of my dad, I throw the letter away and turn my thoughts.
I’ve got two texts from Teddy, and I don't know what to do about my misguided friend. He’s been so weird lately. Shit, they all have, even Melissa is still avoiding me like the plague. I don't know what I did, but my feelings are hurt just the same. It's all this and my lovely moment with Colt earlier that rides my dreams as I lay on the couch and doze.
The next morning, I’m late for class, having slept through my alarm, but I’m not sorry because I actually got some sleep for once.
The parking lot is relatively empty when I jump from my car and rush toward the school, and in my panic to get to class on time because old habits clearly die-hard, I miss Tiffany standing by a car looking miserable.
She catches my arm as I pass, and I spin around in surprise, my bag pulling me sideways and unable to stop the momentum, I drop to the ground with a thud, staring up at her with alarm.
“Seriously, I don’t know why they all obsess about you so fucking much. You’re a mess,” she mutters, glaring down at me.
“True,” I huff, pulling myself up and dusting off.
“Look, I can’t be seen here, so this is gonna be quick. I don’t care about you. This is for Colt,” she insists.
&nb
sp; “Okay,” I say slowly. I mean, what else can I say? Thanks?
“If you don’t stop hanging around with Colt, he’s gonna be dead. This isn’t a joke, and you’re making him angry.”
“Who?” I whisper, but she just shrugs.
“I told you. I don’t know. It’s not like we get together for tea,” she snarls.
“If you had to guess?”
Cocking her head to the side, she ponders me for a moment and says, “Ben or maybe Nate.”
“Nate?” I ask with surprise.
Slowly she nods, a sad expression crossing her features, and pity flows through me. What horrors has she seen?
Because I can’t resist, and even though I don’t want to know, I can’t let it go, I ask, “What did you do with Colt the other night?”
She smirks, cocking her head to the side, but she’s so emaciated and tired looking the vicious effect falls flat. What stands before me is a husk of a person with nothing left to lose.
Exhaling slowly, I mutter, “Never mind. Can you at least tell me how you know what the creep wants? I mean, if you’ve never seen him, he what, texts you?”
“Texts, notes, whatever,” she says dismissively, “if he wants to find me, he can.”
“How long have you been, um, doing stuff for him?”
“Since freshman year, he sent me a threatening message. I had no choice.”
“Threatening?” I whisper. Who is this dick?
She gives me a serious look, and it’s this that causes ice to race down my spine. “He knows fucking everything, Finn. If he wants you, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Wh-“
“Look, I don’t have time for this. Stay away from Colt,” she says, backing away.
When she’s a few feet from me, I turn to grab my bag. “Finn?”
Glancing her way, she says softly, “Nothing is as it seems.”
With those ominous words, she takes off, disappearing between the cars, taking this stealth thing next level as she crouches between them before running to the next in line.
As I watch, I don’t know whether to be sad about her paranoia or scared.
With a sigh, I trudge into the school and enter first period late, my eyes landing on Colt immediately, but he doesn’t so much as glance at me. Ignoring the disappointment, especially after his words over the weekend, I resign myself to another useless school day where I retain fucking nothing.