by L. Grubb
“Carlotta? Your drink, babe.” Jase waves the glass under my nose and clicks his fingers to get my attention. Snapping out the trance I was put under, I grab my drink and mutter my thanks. This time when I look up, I let my eyes take in the crowd instead of Beast.
“Who are you? You spoke to me as I was leaving the warehouse too. But I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” His voice is deep and I can hear the rumble in his chest.
“I’m Carlotta, lightweight fighter. I don’t usually get placed in rings around here. Usually I’m based in Essex.” Now my nerves are under control and my pulse is back to normal, I feel I can actually have a conversation with him. I won’t let him see how he affects me. Why should I? He’s just a person like the next hot man.
“I’m sure you don’t need me to introduce myself formally.” He smirks at me before lifting his beer to lips, taking a long sip. My eyes drop to his throat, watching as it bobs up and down with each swallow. I never thought that was hot before, but I do now.
“Arrogant much?” I shake my head, looking at Gemma as she shoves her tongue down Mr. Muscles’ throat. Gross. No self-respect, that girl.
“I have every reason to be, don’t you think, Carlotta?” His eyes pierce mine, holding my stare once again and the sounds of the pub fades away. I don’t need this shit.
“Get your head out your arse, Beast. You’re really not all that,” I scoff, my lips turning down. He’s irritating the shit out me. How anyone can put up with his sorry arse, I’ll never know.
I turn to Jase. “How do you put up with that?” I point my thumb in Beast’s direction, not caring that I’m being rude. I gave up my moral-compass years ago when I was left to fend for myself. “He’s intolerable.”
Jase laughs in my face and I have to wipe away the spittle that lands on my face. “Gross, Jase.”
“Sorry, babe, but I’ve never seen anyone speak to, or about, Beast like that, especially when he is sat right there, within ear shot.” Jase wipes the fake tears from his eyes and I punch him hard in the thigh. “Ouch!”
“Shut up then. I don’t give a fuck that he’s right there. He’s a complete twat. Why would you want to be friends with him?” I can feel my cheeks heat but I don’t care. Beast needs to get his head out of his arse and smell the damn roses.
I hear a throat clear and I turn to see Beast shooting daggers at me. “I don’t appreciate women speaking about me like I’m a bit of dog shit on their shoe, Carlotta. Just because you’re a fighter, doesn’t mean you’ll get away with it. If you do your research, you’ll know exactly who I am and where I came from. This is why I hate hanging with bitches.”
My mouth drops open, instantaneously making me speechless. Comebacks are swirling in my head but I can’t seem to voice them. “Did you just call me a bitch, Beast? I don’t think that was very nice either. The pot calling the kettle black and all that. I don’t need this shit. Catch ya later, Jase.”
Grabbing my bag, I don’t wait for a reply and I head straight to the bar and sit on the first available stool. I put my head in my hands as I fight against an oncoming headache. Infuriating, insufferable men are the worst. Usually, I wouldn’t associate with them because well…they’re a pain in the arse and complete mood killers. Not that I had a choice then, he’s Jase’s friend after all.
“Hey girl. Where did you go?” Gemma asks as she throws an arm across my shoulders. “I was looking for you.”
“No you weren’t. You were locking lips with Mr. Muscles over there.” I nodded my head in his direction and her cheeks flush pink which makes me chuckle.
“Yeah, I meant after for like five minutes.” She bites her lip as she takes a glance back over at the jukebox.
“Seriously? You couldn’t make it any more obvious, Gem.” I laugh as I say this so she doesn’t think I’m grilling her or nagging…which I often do. “I was suffering through an awkward meeting with Beast over there. I was sat with Jase when he practically pushed me off the stool he had previously vacated. Ugh, he’s killed my mood for drinking.”
“He did not! No way! I’ve heard shit about him. I’ve never wanted to meet the moody arsehole myself.” Gemma shakes her head, waving to get the bartender’s attention. “One more and we’ll leave then.”
“What about the dude you were all over?” I ask, frowning. Usually, if Gemma is into someone, she won’t hesitate to bring him back to ours to have her wicked way with him.
“Nothing special. He can’t even kiss properly.” She visibly blanches and I can’t help the loud laugh that tumbles out of my mouth. “I’m being serious. Not only that, all he talks about is himself. And you know how annoying that shit is.”
After downing our final drinks, we leave the bar. I can feel the heat of Beast’s glare on my back and the shiver that runs down my spine makes me uncomfortable. It feels like an animal stalking its prey, making me feel uneasy.
Back home that night, my thoughts are a fucking riot of the girl that had the ghoul to call my shit out in front of the lads. It angered me yet flawed me. How so much courage comes packaged in such a small woman. I’m not blind, she was fucking hot, hottest girl I’ve seen in a long time. All natural; no fake tits, no bottle blonde hair. She was petite with shoulder length, mousy brown hair, straight nose and sparkling, emerald green eyes. She had the perfect bow shaped lips that I could fucking maul all night long. But she angered me, talking about me like I wasn’t there. What gave her the fucking right?
Running my hands through my hair, I growl into my empty apartment. No woman has ever got to me like she has. If she wasn’t Jase’s friend, I would have had her pinned to the wall in a matter of seconds, been in her face, intimidating her into silence. But I restrained myself. First time for everything, right?
Her attitude was a bit off, but I’m actually quite glad there is someone out there that can hold their own and I think I found myself a challenge. And I fucking love a challenge. Mentally break her down, show her who Beast really fucking is because next time, Jase won’t be there to hold me back.
Flicking my shoes off, I decide on a shower to clear my mind, not like it ever fucking does but it’s worth a try right now. If that fails, to the gym to beat the shit out of a bag to get this built up frustration out of my system because there is no way I can sleep with her in my head.
Stripping my clothes off and shoving them to the side of the room, I make my way to my en-suite. My bathroom has to be one of my favourite rooms in the joint. The whole room is tiled in marble, gleaming black and white, is on every inch of the room and I love how dominant it is.
Turning the dial, I kill a few minutes while it heats up to turn on my iPod dock, turning it to some old school rock music. The first song that comes on is Good Charlottes ‘The Anthem’. This used to be my song when I entered the ring when I first started out. Good tune. Climbing in the shower, I throw my head back and moan as the hot, steaming water hits my face.
With my eyes closed, I can picture Carlotta perfectly like she’s stood right in front of me and it pisses me off. I don’t want to be picturing her while I’m trying to enjoy a god damn shower. My chest vibrates as a growl works its way up my throat. I bite my lip, containing myself. Looking down, I see my cock saluting large and proud. Fuck. Seriously?
That shit isn’t going down without help and I’m not going out again to find some bitch to use. Closing my fist around the base, I squeeze and groan at the instant pleasure. My hand finds the wall and I hang my head as I start pumping furiously. I watch as the pre-cum drops onto the floor of the shower.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my hand glides up and down my dick, racing to find release. Behind closed eyes, all I can see is Carlotta and that makes me pump harder, faster. Envisioning her breasts bouncing as she hops from one foot to another in the ring; though I’ve never seen her fight, the image is pleasant. The image is quickly replaced, her head thrown back and a look of pure ecstasy is on her face…My god, the image looks so real that my cum shoots all over the wall before I even have a
chance to bask in the pleasurable feeling. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I punch the wall. I shouldn’t have fucking done that. I don’t even want to know her, especially after the way she was talking at the pub.
Cleaning myself off quickly, I leave the stall and wrap the towel around my waste. My mind is still frazzled with what just happened in the shower, but I can’t turn back time and I’m not sure I even would if it was offered to me. I’ll never see those images in front of me, all I have is my imagination. And how the fuck would she know anyway with what I just did? She won’t. No harm, no foul.
The distant ringing of my mobile pulls me from the trance I’m having with my reflection in the mirror and I race from the room to catch it before it rings off.
I reach it just in time and snatch it from the kitchen side. “Yeah?” Fuck. Didn’t check caller ID.
“It’s Jase, mate.” Thank fuck. “Can you spare a few minutes?”
“Yeah, yeah. What’s up?” I sit at one of the metal chairs at the kitchen table and scrub a hand down my face. I have an inkling as to what this could be about. “If it’s about that Carlotta chick, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Hear me out, Beast, for fuck sake.” I can hear the irritation seeping through his words and I clamp my mouth shut. “I take that silence as to you listening.”
“Just get on with it, Jase. I don’t have all night,” I grumble down the phone.
“You had no right going off at her like that. You don’t know shit about her. She doesn’t like feeling threatened and that’s why she was spouting shit about you with you sat there. Can you really blame her? You’re a complete arsehole.” Whoa, say it how it is and all that.
“I don’t give a fuck. I don’t appreciate the shit she was saying. I don’t care where she came from or who she is. She doesn’t know me.” This shit is just a big pain in my arse that I can’t be bothered with right now. “Is that all?”
“No wonder you’ve never had a girl last more than a few months. Seriously? You treat girls like shit and it’s getting old.” The dial tone hits my ear. I’m stunned into silence as I stare at my phone like it’s grown a head. He’s never done that before. Ever. The other way round? Yes, I always hang up on him because I know it pisses him off.
After checking messages and emails, I leave the phone on the table and head to the master bedroom. Once I’ve stepped into the room, my eyes drift to the bathroom and the memory of my orgasm has me balling my fists. I look down at my dick, saying, “I’ve met the woman once, you have never met her…so what gave you the fucking right?” I’m fully aware I’m talking to my dick like a human, but it has a mind of its own and I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m not in control of my emotions and I’ve been trained hard my whole life to separate shit. This time…this time, my dick did all the thinking and I was powerless to it. Sure, if people knew I argue with my cock, they won’t think of me as the badass I am.
Flinging the towel into the open doorway of the bathroom, I pull back the black, silk sheet of the bed and practically collapse in it with a loud ‘umph’. The cool sheets feel fucking amazing against my heated skin and I’m soon drifting off to more fucking images of the girl I can’t seem to escape. Carlotta best watch herself, she’s my dick’s next victim.
Gemma grilled me the whole taxi ride home and I’m about ready to lump her in the head with my fist. “Seriously, Gem, you can fucking drop it now.”
“I can’t help it! You’re fucking insane for even getting up in his grill the way you did. Most girls would never have the guts to speak to him the way you did.” She’s waving her arms above her head animatedly. It just makes her look like a monkey with a bad itch, and that thought alone has me snorting to hold in my giggle. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing. Go to bed, we gotta go to the shop in the morning. Long day. Night!” I shout behind me as I scramble down the narrow hallway to my room. What I love about my bedroom? It’s the biggest. Gemma’s isn’t much smaller but because I moved here before I met her, I got this one. Gemma mostly gets her own way but when she moved in and asked to swap rooms to accommodate her shoe collection, I told her where the fuck to go. This is my sanctuary, where I secretly write erotic novels under a pen name. No-one, not even Gemma, knows that I do it. It’s my guilty pleasure to indulge in writing shit that I could only ever dream of. Sex is a commodity to me, I think it’s been a while since my vagina saw anything action, except for my own hand of course. So I write about what I fantasise, people love it and woman across the globe email me or Facebook me with questions about the novels. It’s the one single thing my parent’s won’t and can’t take away from me. My love of writing runs deep and for years I have been writing secret stories that stay locked in a file on my laptop, short stories that the world will never see…because they’re true, they’re my life stories and I’m not ready for the world to know who I really am. I hide behind the name; Devina Latino. A made up, erotic name that will never lead back to me.
Locking my bedroom door, I make a beeline for my desk and open the lid of the MacBook. I tap my fingers on the wood top of my desk as I impatiently wait for the darn thing to load. Yes! Opening a new word document, my words pour out onto the screen, remembering every feature and every laugh line of Beast, what went down and then my fantasy. Shit, I don’t want to think of him but the dude is hot. But it’s his arrogance and egotistical mind that turn me off, angers me and infuriates me but yet makes me so damn hot that my thong may spontaneously combust into tiny fragments. I don’t want to be attracted to such a twat but my vagina has other thoughts.
After writing my experience with meeting the infamous Beast and what I’d like him to do to me, I email my sister about life and shit before switching off and grabbing a shower.
The water is running cold by the time I leave the confines of the shower. My mind is almost clear and my eyes are getting heavy with fatigue. The high of the fight and my encounter with Beast is wearing down and I’m so fucking ready to crash. I bypass my shorts and tank for bed and just crawl under the duvet completely butt naked and relishing in the coolness of sheets and pillow. Tomorrow is a new day and I vow to myself that I will NOT think about him, not once.
“Yes, no problem, Jonas, you’re booked in for Monday at ten.” I hang up the phone for the third time since opening Blissfully Inked twenty minutes ago and groan. My head is pounding with an oncoming migraine and the coffee I had forty minutes ago didn’t have the desired effect I was hoping for.
“Your station is prepped, Car. Who have we got first?” Gemma leans over my shoulder to thumb back the diary to today’s date. “Really? Roofie? For fuck sake, Car. Why?”
“Because the dude wants ink. Money is money regardless if you’ve fucked them or not, Gem.” I clench my jaw because we seem to have this conversation every week. Mainly because she can’t keep her fucking legs shut. “You don’t need to design him anything, he’s bringing it in with him so you can go get coffee and breakfast or whatever.” Waving a dismissive hand at her and scooting back into the cushiness of the office chair, I drag myself to where my area of the shop is and start getting the colour out that Roofie wanted and to lay the needle next to the tattoo gun for when he arrives. I hear the bell above the door chime and the loud groan from Gemma, I’m also pretty sure I heard her head hit the desk too.
“Car? I’ll be back with coffee.” She hightails it out of the shop before Roofie has even said a word.
“Come on back, Roofie. Did you bring the design?” He hands me the design and I quickly sort out the stencil, listening to the whir of the machine as the paper slides through.
It only takes ten minutes for me to shave the area and apply the stencil, the ten minutes are filled with awkward silence that doesn’t make my job easy.
“What’s Gemma’s problem?” Roofie’s voice sounds loud in the quietness of the building, and it startles me a little as I was concentrating putting the needle in the gun.
“Do you really need me to answer that question for you
, Roofie? Or are you really that dumb?” There’s no love lost between us two. I never really understood him and vice versa. I never bothered trying either after him and Gemma had raging sex in the apartment while I was home.
“Good point. But, hear me out.” He pauses to look at my reaction before continuing, “She knew the score. One-night of good fun and a shit load of alcohol.”
“You really don’t remember do you?” Shaking my head, I get started on his tattoo after applying some Vaseline to the area. The noise of the gun fills the air and I delicately go over the area. Once my foot leaves the pedal and I’m cleaning the end of the needle, I continue. “You told her to fuck off out of her own apartment because, and I quote, ‘your pussy isn’t made of gold so I don’t need another round, fuck off so I can find someone else.’ You didn’t even realise you weren’t at your own place. I had to call Jase to come drag your sorry arse out of there before Gemma caused grievous bodily harm. Now can you understand why the fuck she hates you?” I frown up at him and I watch his face as it slightly pales, kind of to the same colour has his light blonde hair. For a tanned man, he can certainly turn quite the shade when he pales.
“Shit. I didn’t even know that happened. Fuck. I would blame it on alcohol but isn’t that what everyone says when they make a mistake?” He hangs his head and I notice the war he’s battling by the way his muscles have tensed and by the way he’s biting his lip with indecision.
“Surprised Jase never told you. We told him what happened and he was pretty pissy with you. Yeah, I blame the alcohol for what happened that night, but you hurt Gemma pretty bad. She isn’t as tough as everyone thinks she is. She’s as soft as butter really.” He stays silent so I carry on with his tattoo. The silence stretches until I’ve finished and he just slams the cash on the counter before leaving. Moments later, Gemma comes storming through the front door with coffees and a carrier bag in tow. The thunderous look on her face tells me her good mood from this morning has well and truly gone.