“How could I forget?” Drea’s surprise for Cujo was to let him tattoo her.
She’d gone to Trent with the idea of booking an appointment under another name, to ask him what he thought. Everyone knew Drea had been pretty anti-ink. But the death of her mom had brought about a huge change in Drea, and now she wanted her boyfriend to tattoo a rose in memorial of Rosa on her shoulder. Cujo was going to freak out in a seriously crazy way when he found out.
“I’ll see you later,” Lia said.
Pixie watched Lia leave and then wandered back into the condo. She set about making breakfast until the phone she’d set on the counter vibrated.
The sight of his name on the screen made her stomach cartwheel. Dred wanted a video call. Pixie wiped her hands on the sides of her jeans and pressed accept, expecting to find Dred, not an adorable little baby snoozing in a little recliner. And expecting to hear Dred, but instead, she could swear . . . yep . . . I’ve heard it said, that people come into our lives for a reason . . . That was most definitely “For Good” from Wicked.
A hand snuck into the shot to hold a card in front of Petal. On it was black messy handwriting.
MY DAD IS STUPID . . .
The card was removed, and another was placed in front of Petal.
SOMETIMES HE ACTS BEFORE THINKING . . .
The process repeated itself, as Petal dozed on.
SOMETIMES HE RUNS INSTEAD OF STAYING . . .
SOMETIMES HE’S SCARED AND DOESN’T KNOW WHY . . .
SOMETIMES HE WISHES HE’D FIND . . .
SOMEONE WHO WOULD LOVE HIM LIKE I DO . . .
I POOP A LOT TO SHOW HIM JUST HOW MUCH! !
Tears started to burn her eyes, but Pixie wiped them away quickly, scared of missing a message. Petal hadn’t moved, clearly still fast asleep in her little pink onesie that said Rock Royalty on the front.
HE’S SORRY HE DIDN’T STAY AND LISTEN . . .
HE’S SORRY HE LEFT YOU ALONE . . .
HE WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOU . . .
BUT HE CAN’T COME TO YOU . . .
BECAUSE OF ME . . .
I DON’T HAVE A PASSPORT . . .
The card held what looked like twenty attempts to take a passport photograph. Pixie laughed through her tears.
SO PLEASE COME SEE US . . .
TOMORROW. . . .
The card was removed but not replaced, just as Elphaba sang about asking for forgiveness for the things she’d done.
“Hey, Snowflake,” Dred said roughly as he the camera panned to his face. “Have you met my daughter, Petal?” He coughed to clear his throat.
Pixie bit her lower lip and breathed deeply. She shook her head and wiped the tears threatening to leak.
Dred looked tired. His hair was tied back off his face. She’d missed the gold flecks in his eyes, missed the way one side of his mouth lifted before the other when he smiled, she’d just all around missed him. He also had a puddle of what looked like spit-up on his shoulder.
“Your daughter’s beautiful,” she managed.
“Yeah,” he said, his gaze shifting in Petal’s direction. “She is, isn’t she?” He studied her for a moment, then looked back at the camera. “I’m sorry, Pix. With every part of me, I regret behaving like a complete asshole. I should have listened and not stormed off like a jerk. You deserved so much more than that. But I’m here, and I want to know. Can you tell me about it?”
Pixie walked over to the couch and sat down. “I was thirteen when Arnie, who is my stepdad, came to live with us. He was a small-time dealer in Pahokee. The trailer was never big enough for the three of us. Slowly but surely, Mom started to use. Recreational at first, but over the course of the year she was using almost daily.” She looked at Dred’s concerned face, wishing they were having this conversation face-to-face. “I was fourteen when he first threatened to kill my mom if I didn’t sit on a stool with my sundress wide open so he could jerk off while looking at me.”
“Fuck,” Dred mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Snowflake. If I’d known, I would have crushed the fucker where he stood. Did he . . . Shit. Did he . . . sexually assault you?”
Pixie shook her head. “No. And yes. He was a voyeur. And he got off on embarrassing me. He’d make me sit and watch porn with him at fifteen.” The tears came, but it was useless trying to stop them. “Sometimes he’d touch me inappropriately or get me to stand naked and read stories to him. Shit. I’ve had years of therapy, but things still get tangled in my head when I think about it.”
“Tying your wrists?” Dred asked.
“Yeah. He’d do that, but I’d fight sometimes, especially when he invited his friends to watch. One day, he forced me to take two pills. I had no idea what they were, but when they kicked in, I could escape. Nothing mattered. I could slip away from what was happening and pretend I was something or someone all together different. Then next time, he didn’t need to force me to take them. Eventually I started to ask for them. At the time, I thought it was one of the only things I was in control of, but I realized in rehab it was pure addiction.”
They sat in silence for a while, Pixie lost in her thoughts, Dred obviously trying to process everything she was telling him.
“There’s something else. He was trying to blackmail me. I’ve never told anyone the why. Not my therapists, not Trent and Cujo, my sponsor kind of guessed, but you need to know.”
“I’m here, Snowflake. And I really wish I was fucking there with you right now.” He glanced toward Petal.
Strangely, Pixie felt her confidence building. They were going to come through the other side of it if Dred could accept the one fact she still hadn’t told him. “I wanted out. The day before my sixteenth birthday I had packed a bag, planning to run the next day because school would no longer care if I showed up or not. That night, Arnie had some of his friends over. They were playing poker. He told me to sit on my stool like a good girl. The pot was larger than I had ever seen. Arnie played dealer. When the last player went out, and only Brewster, a friend of Arnie’s, was left, Arnie split the pot in half. He gave half to Brewster, and then walked over to me, told me to open wide. I looked between Brewster and Arnie. I just knew. I was the prize. I shook my head, but Arnie forced my head back and dropped powder into my mouth. I couldn’t spit it out. It stuck to my gums and coated my tongue.
He looked at Brewster, and told him to give it a minute, and walked out of the trailer.”
Dred leapt to his feet and started to pace. It was hard to focus on the screen as the background bobbed about. She saw him reach for the anchor he always pulled on, but it wasn’t there.
“Come to me, Pix. I spoke to Trent this morning. He said you could fly up here tomorrow morning. I’ll get you on the early flight. Please, come be with me, and little-miss-poopy-pants over there. We’re a package deal now.”
She took a deep breath. The hardest part. “There’s one more thing. I—”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is. We need to talk some more. And we have enough shit to deal with to fill the SkyDome twice over. But let’s deal with it together.”
“Dred . . . I killed Brewster.”
* * *
Dred walked to the living room window and looked out onto the street. Nothing. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the time of Pixie’s text message telling him she was in the limo he’d booked for her and was on her way from the airport. Tapping his fingernails on the windowsill, he calculated the time to get to the house, and by his reckoning, he still had seven more minutes to wait.
How did he feel knowing she killed someone? Her revelation was shocking, but he felt relieved. Relieved that her stepdad and the asshole he did the poker deal with hadn’t been able to rob her of the one thing she’d held sacred for so many years. The fact that someone had to die for the violations committed against her was a trade-off he’d make over and over.
They’d talked for another two hours. Eventually Petal woke and wouldn’t be pacified until she’d been fed. But
before then, he told her about his mom, about the way she died. And about Amanda. Pixie had shared her escape to Miami and how she’d been mugged and lost all her money. She’d told him about the decision to sleep in the doorway of an old store, shaking and nauseated, and of being woken by two of the largest men she’d ever met. He’d never felt more like an idiot when she explained that the man in the photograph he’d seen the day he’d left Miami was actually her sponsor. Her much older, married sponsor. He’d asked her to not believe what she read in the press, yet he’d done exactly that at the first opportunity he was given.
The more he learned, the more he respected Trent and Cujo. The truth was, he’d never had any decent male role models in his life. Trent and Cujo were real. Genuine. Dred’s confidence was part mask and he knew it. He wanted to be more like them. Less broken, more solid. If only he knew how to get there.
The love he felt for Pixie was overwhelming, but it was going to take more than a kiss and make-up sex to solve their personal issues. For once, his money could be used for something meaningful. The best therapists in the world came at a price, but they both still clearly needed help—and lots of patience and time.
Silence surrounded him like a fog. Petal was out of the house with Jordan and Lennon. They’d left in Lennon’s tinted-window Land Rover with a plan to drive out to the West End to take Petal for a walk along Lakeshore then stop by the Cheese Boutique in Swansea to pick up dinner. The diaper bag had been filled with multiple spare outfits, enough diapers to bail out the Titanic, and several bottles of formula. Nikan and Elliott had left before breakfast, deciding to go visit friends over in Newmarket. Everyone’s foot was off the gas, their equipment sat unused in the studio. It had been a couple of days since they’d recorded anything new. Their energy and inspiration were running on empty.
He’d looked out of the window again, regretting his decision to not collect Pixie in person. As much as he wanted to do the whole standing in arrivals with flowers and shit, the paparazzi had been driving him insane since news of Petal’s arrival and Amanda’s death. It had been Pixie who had insisted on meeting him at the house.
He checked the time on his phone, went through the math again. She should pull in any minute.
Dred looked around the living room. The house was spotless and flowers littered the place. Perhaps he’d gone overboard, but what the fuck did he know about dating, or what had Ellen called it? Wooing. Who the hell said “wooing” anymore? Whatever its name was, he was likely shit at it, but flowers seemed easy enough, even if the florist had stared at him in shock when he told her his budget.
He felt like a raccoon on ice, his emotions slipping and sliding all over the place.
The black town car pulled up to the gate and buzzed. “Motherfucker.” Dred fumbled for his phone in an attempt to open it quickly.
By the time the car came to a stop in front of the house, Dred was already outside. He yanked the car door wide open, and Pixie got out. Fuck, she’s lovely. He stepped forward and cupped her face gently. “I missed you,” he whispered, staring intently into her whiskey-colored eyes.
Simply holding her made all the locks inside him click into place. He’d been such a dick to her, and yet here she was, giving him another chance when he didn’t really deserve one.
Pixie stepped up onto his toes, and he shifted his hands to grab her around the waist. And yes, while he wanted to whisk her inside to the warmth of his bed, he was willing to stand and simply stare into her eyes that were telling him a story all their own.
“I missed you, too,” she said softly.
Their lips met, and the feeling was indescribable. A combination of coming home, of being the luckiest man alive, of gratitude, of lust and love.
The driver coughed discreetly, and Dred pulled away from her. “I placed your cases in the hall, Miss.”
“Thank you,” Pixie replied, and Dred was grateful, because the lump in his throat solidly blocked anything he wanted to say.
The limo reversed slightly, then exited through the gates. Dred took her hand and led her inside, through the house, and into his bedroom.
“Let me make this right, Snowflake,” he said driving his hands into her hair. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” He took her lips, and groaned as she welcomed him.
While she looked cute in the black trench, getting her out of it was tougher than removing a straightjacket. Belt. Fucking fiddly little buttons. “Goddamn. I’m buying you a new coat.”
Pixie laughed. “Need some help?” she asked, playfully.
“I got this . . . I think,” he said, finally able to slide the sleeves down her arms.
She was wearing a perfectly fitted black sweater dress over dark tights. Unable to resist, he buried his head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply. He pushed her hair out of the way and kissed her soft skin. Her fingers slid into his hair and he smiled, knowing full well he’d left it down because she liked it that way.
With a gentle nudge, she fell back on the bed. Quickly, he removed her ankle boots, socks, and leggings. Beneath the sweater dress, he could see she was wearing black lace underwear, and the blood rushed to his cock. Fuck, he wanted to bury his face against her, to taste and smell her, to reassure himself that she really was here. That he wasn’t about to wake up and realize it was a dream. But he remembered the things she’d gone through, and it cheapened all the sexual things he wanted to do to her, explore with her.
Pixie sat up and placed her hands on his cheeks. “And I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Dred placed his hands over hers. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Snowflake.”
“I do. I should have told you, but instead I—”
“No. As I clearly showed, I wouldn’t have listened.” Dred sat back on his knees, and Pixie’s hand slipped away from his face. He reached for one of them and brought it to his lips. “But I promise you, I will always listen to you from here on out.”
Pixie stood and lifted her sweater dress over her head, revealing the sexiest bra and panties he’d ever seen, the sheer and lace panels giving him glimpses of everything he’d missed in the twelve days they’d been apart. He reached up and kissed her along the crease of her thigh. She smelled perfectly fucking edible. Pixie grabbed fistfuls of his hair again, harder this time, which caused a shiver down his spine. He rubbed his thumb across her clit and heard her gasp.
Quickly, Dred stood, and lifted Pixie into his arms to place her on the bed, laughing at the way she squealed in surprise. God, he wanted her. Wanted her every way known to man and a couple of ways that probably weren’t. But he was unsure. Uncertain how to move forward, yet be respectful of her past.
Within moments, he’d ripped his clothes off and put on a condom from the bedside table. He laid down alongside her and she rolled onto her side to smile at him. From her beautiful purple hair through her colorful tattoos and soft skin to the tips of her purple toenails, he wanted her.
“Rule three, Dred,” she said, running a finger along his jaw. “Don’t look at me like I’m different now. I want you, I want this,” she said grabbing his dick, a move that made him jerk like he’d been struck by lightning. “There may be times when it seems like I don’t, because something we do together is a trigger for me, but never doubt for an instant that I want this with you.”
The tension Dred had been feeling slipped away. They were finally together, their secrets bared. Running his fingertips along her skin, he slipped an arm around her back, popped the clasp of her bra, and dragged it slowly down her arms. Pixie lifted her hips so he could remove her panties. He rubbed a hand across the gentle curve of her hip, across the flat plain of her stomach, into the soft welcome between her thighs where she was already soaked. He slid his finger back and forth, in and out, scissoring them gently and circling her clit while he studied her eyes, saw them go wide.
“Fuck, Pix. You’re so wet for me.”
When she started to rock against his hand, he almost came. The telltale tightening around his fingers
warned him she was about to come. He removed his hand and grabbed her leg behind the knee, lifting it high over his thigh before sliding into her. As much as he wanted her to let go, right now he really wanted to go with her.
“Dred,” she gasped.
Heaven. Hearing her groan, feeling her fingers dig into his shoulders, seeing the way she gave herself over to him fully. She was his, and he was going to be hers.
“I love you, Snowflake,” he murmured against her lips as he stared into eyes he knew loved him back. He thrust into her in long steady strokes. Watching her, teasing her. It had taken years of fucking to realise that making love was the most incredible thing in the world. “Come for me baby, please. I need it. We both need it.”
Pixie stayed with him, her mouth open against his as she started to come. “Dred, I’m—”
She ground her hips against his, clawing his skin to get closer. Dred slid his hands around her ass, and pulled her flush to him, giving her what she needed. Giving them both what they deserved.
* * *
A loud series of bangs roused Pixie. The room was bathed in the glow of dusk, and for a second she couldn’t figure out where she was until she remembered the warm body she was curled up against was Dred and her heart settled. They’d made love twice before succumbing to what was obviously the sleep of the dead.
“Snowflake. We need to get up,” he said shaking her gently. “It’s nearly seven. We’ve been out for a while.”
Nikan shouted something as he walked up the stairs, and she heard his bedroom door close. If Nikan was back, it was highly likely the rest of the guys were too. And Petal. She lifted her head and squinted one eye at him. “I can’t wait to meet her,” she said, her voice still rough with sleep.
Dred grinned. He was as excited as she was. “So get dressed and I’ll go get her.”
“Eew. No. I need to shower. I’m sweaty and smell—”
“Sexy?” he said, pulling her toward him, kissing her soundly. “Delicious?”
“Well used,” she said with a laugh and pushed him away.
The Purest Hook (Second Circle Tattoos) Page 22