I nod, hate coursing through my veins. I’m sure my eyes reflect the same mayhem that I see in his.
Through a malicious grin, I sneer, “This is gonna be fun.”
This pompous asshole walks into the boat garage like he’s walking on stage to give an acceptance speech.
When I’d yanked the bag off, he had the balls to finger comb his fucking hair and smile. “Is she here?”
He’d looked into the abandoned warehouse like he was looking for a friend. “Your blue bonnet?”
“That’s it.” Riley tries to go in, but I push him aside, “Nah, that’s mine,” I say and punch that smug fucking look right the fuck off of his damn face.
He takes it. Blood flies against the car. He nods respect my way as he wipes blood from his jaw.
Why the fuck is he still smiling! “Get it right, asshole, it’s Bluebelle.”
He shrugs. “Whatever.” And walks into the warehouse.
Javi
Because fuck him that’s why. I don’t give an inch. I’m not scared, I’m fascinated. The new owner of my broke down doll wants to challenge me.
I take the chair that’s offered and cross my legs. “She’s not real, you know.”
I raise my eyebrows and give him a meaningful look. Trying to break it to him gently, I say. “Artificial. Plastique. Inorganic. Not real. Get it?”
I check my watch to see if these assholes broke it. “No sense fighting over a toy, my friend. You can have her. I’m done with her.”
Frankie
First of all, he’s fucking jacked in the head. I look at Riley and see the same apprehension there. Psychosis kinda takes the fun out of a good old ass-stomping.
I hear an approaching bike and glare at Riley. “Go check that,” I hiss.
He holds up a palm. “Cool it, raging bull. It’s Pint. That’s why I needed to make a stop. He grins. “To pick his ass up. He hates riding the bike at night, especially up in the hills.” He laughs and slaps my back. “You thought I wanted to stop for a little payback, didn’t you?” He nods his head towards our prisoner, who’s checking his nails. Such a dick!
“Riley, why didn’t you just tell me we were here to pink up Pint?”
He laughs. “I thought you knew, till you popped the trunk. Then I figured it was gonna be that kind of party. Fuck it, when in Rome, right?”
From the chair, the bastard has the audacity to ask. “So…when do I get to meet your, ah, was it Babybel?”
I’m on his sarcastic ass so fast, his expression doesn’t even change. He’s smiling as I jerk him to his feet. “It’s Bluebelle, you crazy fuck. Your wife, for now. But my future. Have some respect.”
I toss him away and turn my back to him, looking Riley right in the eye. Let him come at me, my eyes say as I raise my arms to my side, leaving myself unprotected.
Riley smirks, and I know.
I keep my back to him and taunt him, daring him. “Too much of a pussy to come after someone your own size, Javier.”
I hold the pose, giving him every opportunity to come at me. When he doesn’t make a move, I let out a loud sound of disgust.
Riley does the same as we walk out, the pussy trailing behind.
Sasha
When the car pulls up, Blue goes in to get ready. We talked about this. She was adamant she didn’t want to see him. Said it would curse their union.
I nod, concerned for her. For all of us. We are bringing a serious lunatic a cabin in the woods. The last thing I need is a matching set. I hope she can pull it together.
I hear the car door slam and I walk out, standing on the porch. Frankie’s breathing like a beast, he looks feral. He glares at Javi, who stands between him and a very pissed off looking Riley.
Javi sees me and grins. “Sasha!” He does a romantic pregnant pause when he sees me so everyone hears what he says next. “I’ve missed you.” He waggles a finger at me before adding. “I wish you would have taken me up on my offer earlier. I could have fed the shit out of you.” He mugs it up.
Riley’s had enough. The ride over must’ve seemed like a clown car if he’s been acting like this the whole way. Riley’s voice gets deadly calm. “That’s it,” before he socks Javi right in the nose.
The satisfying crunch of gristle, like when you bite into a really good steak, is unmistakable.
Javi holds the bridge of his nose, but it does nothing to staunch the bleeding. “Good one.” He smiles a bloody smile at my man who looks unimpressed.
Incredibly, Javi comes towards me, dripping blood, with his arms open wide. Like this is a high school reunion or something. Same shit-eating grin as usual. Same Hey, Sash. I fucked up, but golly gee, I’m crazy look.
I run up and pummel his chest and hiss in his face. “You promised, Javi. You said you’d never hurt her.”
“Hurt who, Sasha?” I smack his face, my claws digging into that fake look of bewilderment.
Blue
I still haven’t seen him, but I know he’s here. Same way you know there’s a boogeyman hiding under your bed. I feel it.
In my bones. The deep cut in my left wrist itches. I keep rubbing the same spot, right where the restraint dug in tight.
The same restraints that are being applied to my husband at very moment.
I turn back to the mirror, adding another coat of mascara. I want to look perfect for him.
I blow myself a kiss and get into my costume. Fluffing my cleavage, I take a last look in the mirror. Oh! I almost forgot.
I need a flower headband.
I can’t find my favorite one anywhere, but I’d packed a virginal white flower one, for the honeymoon. At least it won’t go to waste. I slip into the ivory pumps, spritz myself, and mentally prepare.
“I’m coming, husband. For your Favor.”
……
“He’s a faker who fakes. A little liar who lies. A phony with a bologna story. Deceit at its finest,” is what I have to say to Frankie and Riley’s advice to go easy on the crackpot.
“He in there?” I jerk my head to the room. My room. My motel room, but there’s a No Vacancy sign out front now.
Frankie nods, looking me in the eye and says to the lookeyloos. “All right, everyone out. Let’s go down to the guesthouse. Blue needs some space.” He winks and herds everyone out with his beer bottle. I mouth, “Thank you.”
He really has the sweetest smile. “I’ll be close.”
He points to the porch as he heads out.
Alone. Finally.
I take a cleansing breath, anxious now that the time is here. I lean my head on the wooden door—thick, solid—and say a prayer to whoever listened to the one I said from the bed and sent Gretchen.
I kiss the door, and whisper. “Please let him choose the hard way. I don’t want all that food to go to waste.”
And I walk in.
……
I’m wearing the dress. His dress. I’m wearing the shoes that were picked to go with this dress. The jewelry, even the ridiculous blue diamond wedding ring shackles my finger. My hair is glossy and smooth, not a strand out of place. “I’ve done my makeup just like you like it. My hair, my clothes…all for you.”
I stand as a mannequin would, and he knows me. I fucking know he does.
Then I turn, a ballerina in a child’s jewelry box, imagining a soft lullaby playing just for me. The last turn puts me right in front of him. My expression is blank as I ask, “What’s my name, Javi?”
There is no recognition in his eyes. Mystified. Like I’m something that needs to be deciphered. Fine.
I gaze down at him with the sweetest Blue face I can muster. Over-exaggerating the sugar, I ask. “Who am I, Javi? I’ll give you a hint…baked goods.”
Still no response. I bend and let him look down the front of my Hari ‘original.’ “What’s my name, Guapo?”
Nothing. No matter what side I go to, he turns the other way. Avoidance. I’ve been there.
I walk to the rolling table, the one I ate soup off of, day one out of th
e restraints. The very same one that I stared at as he tried to feed me to death, and wheel it to the side of the bed. It’s loaded down, hard to push across the low carpet. But I manage.
Now his eyes track me.
I wink.
Javi
She’s saucy as she says, “Hope you don’t mind, husband, but I put the tab on our credit card. Just told them to send the same thing you ordered.” My monkey rattles in its cage as she puckers up and kisses a very long receipt.
She really is beautiful. My masterpiece, the one I’ll be remembered for. I’m amazed, astounded. I created that and my heart swells with pride.
I grin when her back is turned.
Next, she comes at me armed. Sweat breaks out on my forehead but I act like she doesn’t affect me. “A jelly donut?” I lay my head on the mattress and belly laugh, trying to get my massive boner to calm down. I’m solid as a rock.
She looks down at my naked cock sticking straight up. “At least someone remembers me, even if we were never formally introduced.”
She ravages the donut. Pink filling spurts down her chin. She gives me a pointed look before using her arm to wipe it off. I bite my lip so her name doesn’t fall from my lips. I don’t want to get kicked out of the party yet. It’s just getting good.
She pouts. “I can’t believe you don’t remember me, husband.”
My dick jerks at the way she claims me with that word.
I watch her lips, red and full as she puckers. The light hits flakes of glaze stuck to her gloss, and it’s too much. I have to look away or I’m going to blow. She grabs my face and pulls my eyes back. “Who am I?”
Her flinty eyes spark, fires I’ve never seen burn behind the blue, making her eyes glow in the dim room. They beg me to keep quiet and let her have some fun.
And it’s then that I see it. How the fuck did I miss it? How could I have been so wrong? “You’re real!”
Blue
He yells with glee and rattles the restraints. I look up, making sure Frankie did as I asked. The slack is double-wrapped. It’s all about the details. I cram the donut down into his yawning gullet mid-fucking-chuckle. Feeling his teeth graze the back of my fingers, I say, “Wrong answer,” and get out of this fucking dress.
He watches as I strip. “This was supposed to be your gift.” I run my hands seductively over the black bustier. Fondling my breasts, I run the tips of my nails over my exposed cleavage, grazing a trail down to each nipple. As they grow under my fingertips, I confide in him. “Would have all been yours. Me, in a bathtub full of dripping, sugary flan, ’cause I know how much you like it.”
I reach between my spread legs and caress my mound. With a pout, I say, “But you had to go and be a bad boy, didn’t you?”
I blow him a kiss, signaling the end of the live show, and turn our attention towards the banquet. His eyes widen as he takes in the food and turns back to me. Fucking crazy eyes meet mine. I smile and let him look. We’re two peas in a twisted pod.
“Before I start, there’s one more thing. Let me introduce myself to you. I’m your wife. Black and Blue.”
Javi
She holds out a hand, but I don’t look at it. Instead, I watch her eyes. It’s hard to make out, her hate is so blinding. Are they glass?
Wait…if she’s real, what does that make me?
She hugs herself with real glee and says. “Lots of butter and salt, just how you like it.”
As I ponder this mystery, she opens a box. A pink box from Regina’s, my favorite restaurant.
She turns to me, so pleased with herself. I couldn’t have written her better lines than these.
She leans in and whispers, “Best flan in Los Angeles.”
She busies herself with the box. I want her to look back at me. I need to see it again. I’d worship at her temple for just one more glimpse of the madness, the sheer and utter wrath that consumes her. It unmistakable and my suspicions are confirmed. She’s an original and she’s real.
I spit out the donut and jangle my restraints. With a sneer that I don’t feel, I say, “Do your worst, Black and Blue.” If I had any saliva, I’d spit in the corner.
No, what I feel is fucking proud. If I could lean back and put my hands behind my head and enjoy this scene, I would. I grin at her when she says…
Blue
“It’s possible that you don’t know me. I’ll admit, it could happen.” I shrug and turn the tray I’m holding sideways, letting syrup dribble over his stomach. I set the tray down and look up, making sure he’s watching. He was trying, but my big flower on my head was blocking his sight line.
“No, that won’t do. Sasha says the client needs to see it. What was I thinking?” A giggle escapes me as I rip the headband off and chuck it. It’s just in the way. Another accessory I have to keep track of.
I shove his dick aside and mount his stomach. I lay the tray on his chest, where he can see.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much,” he says, the fucking asshole.
I hold the spoon up, and in my new I’ve-been-a-bad-little-girl voice, I say, “Javi don’t like spoons,” and pull back the fat side of the spoon and let it go, smacking his forehead with it.
He barks out a surprised laugh.
I giggle some more, not liking the jagged, desperate sound of it.
It sounds too much like my mother’s when she came to visit me. The room feels close. I can almost smell Chanel No. 5. I sniff the air again, not caring if he’s watching. “Do you smell smoke?” I ask with my head cocked to the side.
He doesn’t.
I plunge both hands into the flan, then withdraw slowly, watching my fingers rake through the eggy crust. I swirl the brown top into the yellow custard.
His eager eyes watch my fingers. If his hands were free, he’d be petting his monkey, head tilted back, eyes hooded. I look back down at the sweet blend, dipping each finger in, marring the surface.
“Dirty, wicked things I did with flan, for you. Not jogging the memory?”
I don’t wait for an answer, none needed. I grab a handful of the flan and rub it over my lips. Curds fall to my breasts, but he keeps watching my mouth. Even when I rub the mess into my chest.
He’s only interested in how much I can shovel in.
I want to know the same about his mouth.
I push off of him and stand at his side. “We could’ve had a lifetime of feeding and fucking, but you had to ruin it.”
I pour the rest of the sticky sweet congealed mess all over his erect penis.
I look at the hunks of broken curds and select the biggest one. I rip a bite out of it and push my tongue out to show him.
His breath hitches. “There you are. You sneaky little fuck.”
I yank his penis in my fist and squeeze till flan squeezes between my fingers. I don’t release pressure, just savage it twice with brutish pumps. He spurts all over my hand. I move back where I know he has the best view and add his mess to that on his pubic bone. I wipe the sides of my hands, swirling back and forth in the spilled dessert until I don’t know whether I’m covered in cum or curd.
“All better,” I say, hating how little I sound.
I raise my dirty finger to my mouth and pause. I stare into his eyes.
“Who am I?”
He clears his throat and says, “No one.”
“Almost got it that time, Javi.”
And I stick my finger in my mouth, all the way to the knuckle, before pulling it out gently, sucking it clean. Technically, he’s pretty close. I am no one to him.
I pop my finger out. “Good answer. The hard way it is then.” I lean over and kiss my husband one final time, and whisper against his pursed lips. “My favorite, too.”
And he has the audacity to look away first.
But that’s not going to happen, not at my show. “No, no, no, this will never do.”
I get off of his chest, but leave the mess of curds between my breasts right where it is as I head to the door. “There is an air of obsti
nacy about you—the grins, the leers…but you continue to act like you don’t know me.”
I walk to the emergency exit and make sure it’s locked.
I look back at him, sizing him up. “I’m out of hints, Javi. So I’ll give you one more, a last chance—something you never gave me.”
He looks at me pointedly and then turns his fucking face away, throwing his stubbornness right in my face.
I follow his gaze out the window and it makes me sad. “The bird moved, took her nest and left when she saw the kind of place she was raising her children in. But there’s a great view of the stars at night.”
I walk to my mark, the best view in the house, and grab the can.
He pretends he doesn’t know, but he does. I grab his top teeth and yank his mouth open, smashing my palm into his nostrils, blocking his airway till he does.
Before he has a chance to react, I spray the whipped cream down his throat till he pulls away and shuts his mouth. The rest I spray all over his chiseled face. “Don’t forget, don’t try to eat it all, just push it out the side of your mouth,” I whisper and kiss on the red mark left by the spoon, before releasing him from my head lock.
I throw my arms up. “Whew! This is the shit, Javi. Now I get it. It’s power.” I lean in. “And I’ve got all the power now.”
I let him see all the hurt, the pain, the agony…on full blast.
His voice is resigned. “I took it from Maria, and you took it from me.”
He sees it. He knows. We’re simpatico now.
He turns to me and looks at me like I’ve got a broken wing, like someone pulled off my legs. Under a microscope. “Who are you again?”
It’s just the match needed to light this powder keg. I let out a bloodcurdling war cry, shrieking as I remember inspections, dog-mothers, isolation, and turn my attention to the overloaded cart, giggling as tears burn my eyes.
Black and Blue (Chubby Chasers, Inc. Series Book 3) Page 19