B-Sides and Rarities: A Collection of Unfinished Madness

by K. Webster

  “You feel so fucking good,” he snaps angrily as if he’s mad at himself for enjoying it.

  I yelp when his teeth nip at my breasts. He has a way about bringing pain in a pleasurable way. Thus far in my life, my pain has not in any way been pleasurable. Several thrusts later we are coming again together. Too bad this has to be a one night stand. This guy is amazing in bed. He rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him. Slowly, he studies every feature of mine growing increasingly angry with every second.

  “Jolie?” he asks through clenched teeth. Jolie? Jolie? No. No. No! Tears fill my eyes and spill over.

  “Dax.” Not a question, but an answer. I’m so fucking stupid.

  In one swift movement, he flings me off of him. Losing my balance since I’m on the edge of the bed, I roll off face first and whack my face on the nightstand. Ouch! I’m on my knees and hands, dazed from the fall. He’s behind me pulling on his clothes in record speed. When I turn to look at him—Dax, who I haven’t seen in fifteen years—I’m almost knocked over by the look of hate he regards me with. His features soften just slightly, but he’s still frowning at me.

  “Fuck, Jolie, you’re bleeding,” he growls and kneels down in front of me as he inspects the cut above my eyebrow. Greedily, I study all of his features. He’s a man now. He’s so different.

  “You look different, Dax,” I whisper. His eyes fly to mine and he glares at me.

  “Yes, baby girl, prison will change you,” he snaps. I flinch at his words, knowing I sent him there.

  “Dax, I’m so sor—” I try, but he stops me by interrupting.

  “Save it, Jolie. I’m Slate now—don’t fucking call me Dax. You won’t need stitches, now get the fuck out. I can’t even look at you—you make me sick,” he spits out and storms out of the room, leaving me naked and crying on the floor in some random guy’s house.

  My life is shit. And I deserve it.

  Chapter 3

  Slate

  I’m in a shit ass mood the next day at work. Scivvy didn’t show up and Joel keeps giving me the evil eye. My desk is a fucking mess with paperwork and I’m feeling overwhelmed. Thankfully, I don’t have any clients until this afternoon. Not long after ten, Joel walks in with his arms crossed and shuts the door behind him.

  “What?” I snap at him and continue rummaging through the pile of papers as I look for my check register.

  “I hired her,” he says knowingly. I can tell from his stance, he’s ready for a fight. His jaw clenches furiously.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Who?”

  “Jolie.”

  I slam my hands on the desk and stand quickly.

  “You did what?” I seethe. Joel knows how she was the reason why I went to prison in the first place.

  “For one, man, the chick has a bruise and a cut that I’m pretty sure you gave to her last night. You’re lucky she didn’t call the cops on your ass.”

  “She fell off the goddamn bed!” I scream at him. This bitch is trying to ruin my life again?

  “Yes, that’s what she said too. Whatever, man. Anyway, she worked over a decade at a bank in their accounting department. She’s desperate for a job after being let go and I think she could help us out. You’re fucking drowning in this shit and she could really help us. Plus you two need to work that shit out.”

  “Joel, undo it. Tell her to fucking leave,” I tell him calmly. Instead, he stands his ground and approaches me.

  “No, Slate. We’re going to try this out. I’m afraid if we don’t get the business side of things sorted out, you’ll lose this place. I know you don’t want that, man. So, just trust me.”

  I’m burning with rage right now. That bitch ruined my life. I went to prison for her. And even though I could have been back out in six months, the rage from her betrayal towards me caused me to take my anger out on everyone in my warpath, including a couple of guards that earned me a couple extra years. The bitch absolutely ruined my life. I was going to wait for her. She was just too fucking impatient and ruined everything. I hate her.

  Turning down the anger a few notches, I honestly told him my thoughts. “Joel, I hate her. Absolutely fucking hate her. What if I lose it and hurt her? You need to be prepared for that shit because you have no fucking idea how outraged I am with her.”

  “Slate, just let her help us get things in order. I can feel the remorse from her—it practically drips from every word out of her mouth. Once we get back on the right track, you can take pride in firing her. It can be your vengeance,” he suggests. His eyes are guarded. I know him well enough that he has other motivations for hiring her. What those motivations are, I’m not sure yet.

  “Fine, send her in. We’ll get right to work. I don’t have a client until this afternoon,” I exhale. He exits the room quickly, leaving me to my thoughts. It will give me pride to make her life a living hell like she made mine. The thought makes me smile. I quickly drop it when she peeks her head in the door. I’m furious that my dick reacts to seeing her as she slips inside, closing the door behind her.

  She’s wearing a pencil skirt with a matching blazer. A pink camisole peeks out from underneath. Her face is nervous and she clasps her hands together as if she doesn’t know what else to do. To make her squirm, I take in her appearance slowly. Her hair is beautifully styled just as it was last night. A bandaid is affixed on her forehead just above her eyebrow from her fall last night. She’s done up her makeup nicely and her plump, pouty lips are a dark shade of pink that matches her camisole.

  My eyes skitter down to her bare legs that lead to a very high pair of black heels. I’m pissed as I envision her in nothing but the heels. My dick strains against my jeans. Pushing away the thought, I glare at her.

  “You’re dressed too nice for a tattoo parlor. Lose the blazer,” I instruct. She jumps, but doesn’t argue as she unbuttons the two buttons and slides it off, draping it over the chair. The bitch isn’t wearing a bra underneath her tight pink cami.

  “Did you get your tits done?” I ask, crossing my arms while I blatantly check them out.

  “Yeah, a few years ago. Tucker wanted me to,” she says softly as she avoids my gaze.

  “Who the fuck is Tucker?” I demand as I approach her. For some reason, I feel a twinge of jealousy and it’s almost enough to make me lose my shit.

  “Tucker is my ex-husband. Our divorce was finalized not long ago,” she says.

  “Whatever, I don’t care. You’re going to help me figure this shit out,” I snap, once again making her jump. My mind is flooded with thoughts of her riding me as her tits bounced. I wonder if she has any bruises from my bites. Before I can stop myself, I ask her a question.

  “Are you bruised on your thigh?” I inquire and trail my gaze to between her legs. Her face turns red and she nods. Approaching her quickly, I try not to inhale her perfume when I get practically chest to chest with her.

  “Show me,” I demand. Her eyes widen, but she nods as she lifts her skirt some. Dropping to my knees, I place my hands around the front of her thighs and slowly push the skirt up more until I can barely see her panties. Dark bruises color the inside of her thigh making me grin. Against my brain’s wishes, I lean over and softly kiss them, my lips lingering on her flesh. I can smell her essence and it’s so hot. Her gasp snaps me back out of my sudden lapse of judgment. Who knows what I was about to do.

  Yanking back down her skirt, I stand suddenly causing her to take a couple of steps backward.

  “Let’s get started,” I tell her gruffly and storm back over to my desk. She shakes her head slightly as to clear her head and walks over to the desk.

  “Sure, um, what sort of accounting software do you use,” she asks nervously.

  Digging around under some papers, I finally find my check register and hand it to her. As she opens it, she frowns.

  “Don’t be a judgmental bitch. Some of us weren’t awarded a fucking education,” I snap harshly at her. Tears fill her eyes, but she brushes it off and changes the subject. />
  “Um, okay. Let’s start by making a list of all of your bills, including payroll. I can start a spreadsheet if you want,” she says hesitantly.

  I nod and stand so she can sit at my computer. We spend the next two hours going through the stacks on my desk as she creates a spreadsheet of where things are coming and going. I’ll never admit it, but she’s already helped me out considerably. I can see the surface of my desk.

  She’s still lost in thought as she inputs stuff in the computer. I hadn’t really noticed until now but her features are sad. Something claws at her heart—that much is evident. Even though I hate her, I can’t help but want to know what it is that hurts her.

  “Time for lunch,” I say standing. Stretching my arms above me, I catch her glance at my stomach that is momentarily visible. I don’t miss the hunger in her eyes.

  “Oh, okay, sure. I’ll meet you back here in what, thirty minutes? An hour?” she asks as she heads for the door.

  “Nope, you’re coming with me. We’ll drop by the office supply store and gather everything, including that program you mentioned, after lunch,” I declare.

  “Um, sounds good,” she whispers.

  “Put your jacket back on though. I don’t need bastards checking you out the whole time,” I order.

  Her knowing grin angers me and I storm out of the office with her trailing behind me. How can I hate her and want to fuck her at the same damn time?

  Chapter 4

  Jolie

  Things are awkward and uncomfortable, but I need this job. I’ve been without work for far too long and my landlord already told me to have my stuff out of there tonight. If Erica knew, she would want me to come stay with her, but I won’t. Of course Tucker refuses to help—I’m no longer his problem. And my parents have no clue how bad things are for me.

  I was horrified last night to discover that Dax and I had once again crossed paths. At the same time, I felt so happy to see him. He is so different, completely different from the guy just fifteen years before. My eyes flit over to him as he drives us to the restaurant. He scowls as he drives easily through the streets. His tattooed hands clutch the steering wheel tightly. I am completely mesmerized at his beautifully colored body. Thoughts from last night come to mind and I clench my thighs together.

  I see his eyes glance over at my bare thighs that are further exposed sitting in his low car. Knowing he’s looking at me has my heart pounding furiously. Thankfully, he pulls into the restaurant before I do something regrettable—like touch myself. He’s like a magnet to me. I’ll never be able to fight against the pull he has over me.

  “Mexican?” I ask softly. His eyes meet mine and for a brief moment, his guard is down. He’s Dax. Not Slate. He smiles shyly at me.

  “It’s still your favorite, right?” he asks.

  “Still is,” I agree. He winks at me before getting out of the car and I want to melt in my seat. Maybe we can try to work through this. But my heart sinks when I get out and he’s back to his usual angry self.

  “We need to hurry, I have a client at two.” He storms off ahead of me and is in the restaurant while I quickly follow after him. Once we’re seated and have ordered our food, we sit awkwardly in silence as we eat our chips and queso.

  “Erica’s tattoo looks really great. You’re good at what you do,” I say trying to break the silence up some. My heart melts some more when I see the familiar twinkle in them, but he steels his demeanor again as he says his next words.

  “Thanks to you for sending me to prison. I learned everything I know from a guy named Squid,” he bites out at me.

  My eyes fill with tears, but it’s not at his nasty remark. It’s what’s past him. Stabbing pains possess my heart as I watch a woman walk by. She’s carrying a newborn infant and my brain is heading for meltdown mode. Frantically, I dig through my purse while never peeling my eyes from the baby. When my hands find the cool surface of my compact, I shakily pop it open and dump a handful of the pills into my palm. I’m trying to make sense of how many I should take when I’m assaulted by Dax’s nearness as he scoots into the booth beside me and grabs a hold of my hand.

  “Jolie, what are you doing?” he asks gently, almost concerned.

  My eyes frantically search for the woman and when I don’t see her, I shake madly. I try to pull my hand from his grasp, but he holds tightly.

  “I need my pills,” I manage to choke out.

  “I get that. What are they for? How many are you supposed to have?” he asks, still gripping my hand.

  “When I have an episode, I’m to take two,” I whisper as I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. He frowns, but plucks two pills from the case. Setting them in my palm, he closes the case and slides it back in my purse. My hands are still shaking, so he brings my soda to me and guides the straw to my lips. I set the pills on my tongue and sip them down with my drink. Closing my eyes, I try to block out the pain. The greatest pain I’ve ever known.

  “Do you know them?” he asks quietly.

  With my eyes still closed, I shake my head no. His hand rests on my thigh and I snap my eyes open.

  “Why the meltdown, Jolie?” The concerned look in his eyes breaks my heart. I don’t deserve his compassion.

  “It’s nothing,” I try. His hand squeezes my thigh and I shiver.

  “Baby girl, it’s something,” he says. The fact that he’s called me baby girl again only adds to my heartache. Sighing, I resign myself to tell him. Only Tucker knows what happened and he wasn’t exactly comforting. In fact, he put a final nail in the coffin by serving me with divorce papers.

  “Six months ago, I lost my—” I choke out. He squeezes my thigh once again to urge me to finish. “I lost my baby. It hurts to see babies, okay. It guts me, Dax.”

  “Slate,” he growls, but slides an arm around me and pulls me to him. I melt into the side of his body and try to get lost in his scent. He smells different than I remember but it is still intoxicating nonetheless.

  We sit quietly while he holds me until our food arrives. In a surprising move, he kisses my hair but moves out of the booth to go back on the opposite side. I nearly burst into tears again from his loss but fight wildly to contain my hysterics, and instead focus on the delicious aromas of my fajitas.

  Lunch was quiet as was the trip to the office supply store. It wasn’t until we pulled back into the parking lot of the shop that the silence was broken. A tow truck was chaining my car up.

  “No!” I shriek and scramble out of the car before we’ve even rolled to a stop.

  “You can’t take my car,” I yell as I swat at the man controlling the chains.

  “Lady, you don’t pay your payment, the bank takes it away,” he snaps, annoyed.

  I’m about to attack him when two strong arms drag me away. “Let me go! He can’t take my car! You don’t understand!”

  “Jolie, calm the fuck down and get back inside. You’re causing a scene!” Dax orders as he drags me away from my car. I try to escape, but his grip is tight as he all but carries me into the shop. He ignores the stares of everyone as he hauls me into his office and slams the door shut.

  “Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” he growls, arms still gripped tightly around me. We both know that the moment he lets me go, I’ll bolt out the door.

  “Dax, you don’t understand. I have to be out of my place tonight. After work I was going to load up my clothes and what few belongings I had in my car. I was going to have to sleep in my fucking car and now they took that too!” I screech at him.

  While trying to wriggle out of his grasp, I cause us both to stumble to the floor. Scrambling away from him on my hands and knees, I’m halted when he grabs my ankle and yanks me to him, successfully giving me carpet burn along the way. Flipping me over onto my back, he pins me with his large body. When I go to fight him off, he grabs my hands easily in one hand and holds them above my head.

  “Jolie, you need to calm the fuck down. You’re losing you’re shit,” he growls and brings his face c
lose to mine. For a minute, I can’t breathe with him invading my senses. He smells good and I know for a fact he tastes good.

  “You need me to calm you down?” he asks as he rubs his nose against mine.

  I whimper and nod, because I want nothing more than him inside of me in that moment. With amazing skill, he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and retrieves a condom, all the while holding me with the other hand.

  Involuntarily, I raise my hips to him with need. “If I let you go sweet girl, are you going to run away?”

  I shake my head no. He releases me so he can undo his pants and pull on a condom. Reaching over, he locks the door before making his way back over to me. With both hands, he pushes my skirt up and slides my panties off. Seconds later, he’s positioned himself over me and teases my entrance with the tip of his cock.

  “Fuck me, Slate,” I order. His eyes darken at the use of his nickname and he rewards me by slamming into me. My ass is rubbing across the carpet as he plows into me, but I welcome the burn. Briefly, I think of how nice it would feel for him to slap my ass. Tucker wasn’t into that sort of thing and called me a “freaky bitch” for even suggesting it.

  “Stay with me,” he growls and pulls my chin so he can kiss me. When his lips meet mine, I am once again enveloped in all that is him. My orgasm crashes unexpectedly and I ride out the aftershocks until I feel him release his climax.

  “God, sweet girl,” he says against my lips. He pecks me quickly before standing to pull up his pants. Tossing me a box of tissues, he exits the office while I lay on the floor wondering just how much more fucked up my life can get.

  Chapter 5

  Slate

  Why do I like it when she calls me Dax? I’ll never admit that to her, but I do. Something about the sound of it on her lips brings me back to a time where things were simple and innocent. I gather the bags from the car and head back inside. My appointment will be here soon and I need to gather my bearings. Sliding back into the office, I’m pleased to see she’s at the computer waiting for me to bring the program.