I lay back on my mattress—the only thing I’ve invested in recently—and stare up at the ceiling. I’m tired and pretty drunk, so it isn’t long before my eyes are closing. The only image filling my mind is a blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty.
Willa.
Twenty-Seven
Dex
It isn’t long before my dreams swirl away from Willa and back to the memory that I’ve spent a very long time repressing. In my conscious state, I never think about it, but when I’m sleeping, it always finds a way of coming out.
I’m a few years younger, standing in front of my old boss. I’d wanted to work for him for years and years, so I’d been over the moon to get the job. All I’d known my whole life was fighting. I’d been expelled from school at a very young age for having too many bust-ups, and my life had continued to go that way ever since.
Now I was getting paid for it.
“Okay, Dexter. I have another contract for you,” he said.
I was beyond excited by those words. I loved pounding on people; it was the only damn thing that made me feel alive. Well, that and fucking random chicks—but no one was offering to give me money for that.
“Here’s the guy’s address. He owes me four grand. You won’t get it, so you know what to do.”
I nodded curtly, already pumped up.
In the next scene of my dream, I’m in the guy’s apartment. He isn’t there, so I hang around, waiting for him to show up. I strut arrogantly around his rooms, looking through all of his belongings. This is standard procedure in this debt collection gig. If we find any hidden money, we have to take it. After all, it’s only what our boss is owed. This could be for anything—drugs, stolen goods, escorts. I don’t care what these people are into; I just care about getting my job done.
Then I stumble across something so horrific that it pales all of my emotions. In one of his drawers, this guy has tons and tons of child pornography pictures. At first I can’t even believe what I’m seeing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before, and I throw them back, repulsed. I don’t even know what to do with myself. I can’t even think about why some dickhead guy would have all of that stuff.
I spot a bottle of whiskey on the side, and I grab it to gulp lots of it down. By the time the guy comes home, almost the entire bottle is gone and I’m just about wasted.
“You fucking…” I start to yell, but he jumps right in.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have your money.”
“This isn’t about the fucking money anymore, you filthy piece of shit,” I slur, staggering towards him.
The red mist has descended, and it’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced before. My strange words have rendered him speechless, so he just stands there until I start hitting him.
“Shit!” he screams, reeling back. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You...”
Punch.
“Fucking…”
Thump.
“Pedophile.”
All I can see as I rain my fists down is those horrific images that I saw earlier. I can’t stop my hands from going and going, even when he lets out a strangled, bloodied cry. Even when one or two of his teeth fly from his mouth. Not even when the cracking sound of breaking bones rings out.
I just can’t stop.
I don’t know how long I’m punching for, but the guy is long dead before I stop. He’s the one and only person that I’ve killed, and it’s been tearing me apart ever since, eating away at my soul. I may act the confident and cocksure guy most of the time, but this has always been there. He may have deserved something horrific to happen to him, but I just wish I hadn’t had to be the one to mete out the punishment.
After what I did, I took off. I left town and made my way to the city, and I never went back to collect my fee or see my boss again. I just started over, and I thought that I’d succeeded in leaving my past behind me, until that fucker Adam brought it up again. How the hell did he find that out? And who else knows?
I jump up in bed, panting hard. The dream always ends with me staring at the dead guy’s lifeless, destroyed face. The one that’s haunted me ever since that godforsaken night.
I look over to the clock. Ten past nine in the morning, which means I’ve only had three hours of sleep, yet again. I’m going to kill myself at this rate.
I stomp over into the kitchen, grabbing a stray bottle of vodka to gulp down. Booze has become my usual breakfast once more. I’m still exhausted, but I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep until I drink myself to it, so that’s what I shall do.
This is my life now.
Twenty-Eight
Willa
Three years later
The years have passed in a haze of nappies and breastfeeding, potty training and sleepless nights. Three years ago, my gorgeous little girl, Ellie Rose, was born into a life where her mother—sort of—had it together.
I have a lovely apartment, a few streets away from Nicolette, so we’ve managed to remain close. There have been ups and downs, because our reunion was so surrounded by drama that old wounds have occasionally reopened, and we’ve had to deal with that as it happens.
Now, it’s all out in the open and we’re closer than ever. We’re best friends as well as sisters. Plus, we’re both mothers and our children are our priority now.
“So, how long have you been single?” asks the stereotypical tall, dark and handsome man who’s sitting across the dinner table from me.
“Umm…” That’s a hard question, and I don’t know how to answer it in the simplest way possible. “I guess since before my daughter was born.”
“Oh, you’re a mother?” He sounds a little confused.
“Yes, didn’t Nicolette tell you?”
My sister has been trying to set me up forever. This is the first date that I’ve agreed to; partly to get her off my back, and partly because I suppose it really is time to start moving on. After all, three years was a long time.
“Maybe…I can’t remember.”
Jay works with Nicolette at the PR firm—she’s already used her charisma to work her way up to being a manager there—and he’s all right in the generic every woman’s dream sort of way. But I just find him kind of…boring.
“So, do you like where you work?” I ask lamely, wanting to change the subject.
“Oh yes!” He launches into an animated speech about public relations, nearly boring me to tears. He must be a workaholic. I have nothing wrong with a strong work ethic—after all, I have one myself—but that’s the only topic Jay has gotten excited about. I may love my job as Adam’s part-time PA, but I’d never get so thrilled about talking about it.
What the hell was Nicolette thinking?
Actually, I know exactly what she was thinking—he’s the complete opposite to Dexter and that’s all she wants for me in the world. I don’t think she could cope seeing me fall apart so horribly again.
A waiter approaches the table. “Are either of you interested in looking at our dessert meno?”
Oh, God no.
“No, thank you. I really must be heading home.”
“Yeah?” Jay’s eyebrows shoot up. I thought he’d be more put out by my rejection, but clearly he isn’t feeling it either. “Okay then, just the bill please.”
He grins at me and quickly throws over his platinum card to pay for our meal. I wonder if his obvious affluence is supposed to impress me. It doesn’t. I’ve never been the type of girl to be impressed by money and material possessions.
To Jay’s credit, he acts like a perfect gentleman as we leave the restaurant, pulling out my chair, putting on my coat, and opening the door. I’m sure it’s lovely, I just find it a bit suffocating.
“Okay, well…goodnight.”
As I turn to face him to say goodbye, he lunges at me, kissing me hard and forcing his tongue into my mouth.
“Woah! Wait.” I push him off, thunderstruck. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I thought that we
were going back to yours.”
“No, I’m going back to mine.”
“Oh, right.” His body language becomes cold, his tone sarcastic. “I see, you get a free meal out of me, and then you just fuck off, leaving me with nothing.”
His sudden change in personality completely throws me. Is he serious?
“You expected sex? On the first date? What sort of women do you normally go out with?”
“The ones who give me what I’m owed.”
“Ugh, you pig.”
He doesn’t take this well. He pounces on me, pushing me back against a wall.
“You think you’re so fucking hot that you can just get away with this shit? You get all your meals that way?”
There’s no point in explaining to this guy that he’s the first date that I’ve been on in years. His mind is already made up about me.
“Sluts like you make me feel sick,” he spits out.
I struggle beneath him, but he’s pretty strong.
“Get the fuck off me!” I say. “You’re disgusting.”
I’ve made a scene now, so he backs off a bit, throwing me an awful look before stalking off in a temper. My god, what a spoiled, sleazy brat!
I make the long walk home with tears in my eyes. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way. It was supposed to be the start of a bright new future for me. Yet here I am, still a mess, still not wanting to admit that my love for Dexter will always overshadow what anyone else can offer me.
Why do I still have to love the man who left me?
Eventually I arrive home to my apartment, where I quickly relieve the babysitter, carefully avoiding all of her friendly questions about the date. Then I go and do what I do every other night. I go and sit by my daughter’s bed, just watching her sleep, admiring how much she looks like her father.
* * *
After a while, my eyes become heavy-lidded and I head back to my own bedroom. I can’t help but feel a little frustrated at how badly the night went. I really wanted the date to go well—its not like I expected to marry the guy, but I did want to have a simple, pleasant evening. It’s the first step I’ve taken towards moving on, and it went so damn wrong.
I guess I’m just really disappointed. Nicolette has spent a lot of time trying to convince me that there are good guys out there, but she’s just been proven so, so wrong.
As my brain flickers in and out of sleep, I start to imagine myself in the same situation as I was in on the date, but Jay has vanished and Dexter is sitting in his place across the table.
“Hello, dirty girl.” He grins widely at me. “Missed me?”
I drink in his shaggy, unkempt appearance, annoyed that my heart leaps about ten feet into the air. He looks exactly as he did that night in the bar; the first night we met. He’s wearing the same hoodie, the same t-shirt, and he even has the same stubble plastered across the lower half of his face.
Why does my body have to react so fiercely to him, even after all this time?
“Where the fuck have you been?” I snap. Even the imaginary version of myself is angry at him. It might be wonderful to see him again, but the negative emotions are still there, swimming around inside of me.
“That doesn’t matter,” he teasingly replies, rubbing his palm along my cheek. “What matters is that I’m here now.”
“No, I…” I start to argue, but he leaps across the dining table, knocking our food to the floor before kissing me hard.
“Dexter…” I try to protest, but he carries on.
Fiery passion sweeps through my body. I’ve missed this, missed him so much, and I can’t deny it any longer.
I feel my fingers sliding down into my underwear while I continue this fantasy in my mind. I know it’s wrong, I know I should be moving on and masturbating over someone new, but the fact that it’s forbidden is what makes it so deliciously exciting.
I start to feel myself, experimenting and plunging a finger inside of myself. I’m so wet already, dripping at the mere thought of him. Then I push in another finger, and another. I try to imitate the way that Dexter touched me, to make it feel that much more realistic.
“Fuck me Dexter,” I beg, firmly back in my torrid fantasy world.
“In front of all these people?” he asks, laughing. It’s clear from his thick erection that he likes that idea.
He pulls me up onto the table, leaving my legs dangling down over the sides. Then he stands over me, watching me, running his fingers up my thighs. I feel powerless, like he could consume me at any given moment. But that’s what I want… for him to swallow me whole.
I gently rub over and around my clit with one hand, whilst stroking my breasts and nipples with the other. I’m gasping with sheer joy, more turned on than I have been in a very long time.
Since the last time I saw him, actually.
He pulls me closer to him, releasing his full, throbbing cock for me to see. I lean up onto my elbows to get a better look as he pushes my fancy dress aside and plunges into me. I watch him slowly move in and out, just teasing me over and over again. It’s like having a like porn film playing in front of me, except we’re the ones acting in it.
The waves of passion are already building, already pulsating. I have to bury my face into my pillow to stop myself from screaming out loud.
He fucks me hard, pulling me closer to him with every thrust. Then he bends down, ripping the top of my dress so he can wrap his lips around my nipple.
I concentrate on playing with my stiff nipples, pretending that his mouth is around them, sucking and licking. I’m focusing so hard on my imagination that it almost feels real.
“Fuck, dirty girl,” he mumbles, his breath cold against my flushed skin. “You feel better than I remember.”
He moves harder and faster, and all the while I’m losing control beneath him. The bliss is there already. It starts at my center and begins to spread all over my body until I’m encased in its warm, intoxicating glow.
“Oh, fuck, Dexter, no one can make me come like you do!” I cry out as I crash and fall beneath him…
And then the image is gone, and I’m alone once more.
I sob hard at the memory of what we once were, what we could have been, of what we’ll never have again. I’ve been trying to push him to the back of my mind, to really forget him and move on with the future, but this horrible experience has brought it all flooding back. I really won’t ever get someone like him ever again, and that breaks my damn heart.
I weep for what will never be until I fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that my heart will never be whole again.
Twenty-Nine
Willa
As I stand by myself at the school gates, waiting for my beautiful little girl to finish for the day, I find myself thinking about how quickly time has flown by. She’s six years old now…six! It’s madness. How did that happen? It feels like only yesterday that I was bringing her home from the hospital.
Considering the situation I was in when I found out that I was pregnant, she’s actually doing really well for herself. We both are. We’re both content, happy and well provided for. On top of that, Ellie Rose is an extremely articulate, academic young lady, and she astounds me every single day. She’s already much smarter than I am, and she has many more years of learning ahead of her.
I have Adam to thank for the way that things have turned out.
I may have been uneasy with our agreement at first, but it really did save my life. I would have ended up in a gutter if it hadn’t been for him. There was no way I could have stayed with my sister indefinitely—even though I’m sure she would have had me—so I saw myself with no other option. Looking back, it wasn’t really that, though. I simply picked the choice of a positive future for me and my child, rather than an endlessly difficult one. Having all of that stress out of the way meant that I could concentrate on her.
I’ve repaid Adam for everything now, though, and I was very clear that I intended to do that from the start. I couldn’t have lived comfortably wi
thout having that plan at the back of my mind. I would have always considered myself a gold digger of sorts. As soon as I could, I started my job as I promised and I worked for reduced pay for a very long time, until I was satisfied that we were square. Adam didn’t want to do it that way, but I absolutely insisted.
These days, I’ve eased up on the personal assistant duties, and I’m now a secretary for one of his newer ventures—a very successful hair salon. It feels much more stable as a job because the hours are structured, and it keeps me away from Adam’s clutches.
Don’t get me wrong, I really do appreciate him, but we will never be more than friends. He’s tried to take things further a couple of times; nothing inappropriate, but enough for me to need to take that step back. He seems to understand, and he’s never pushed me too far, but I think he’ll always want us to end up together. Unfortunately, no matter what, I could never see him in that way. He may be a very handsome, charismatic man, but he’ll never be the one for me. I can see his appeal, but I’ll never be able to find him sexually attractive. I just don’t feel any spark or any chemistry there at all, and I can’t imagine a future without that in my life. Not anymore.
Plus, deep down, I will always feel like Adam had a hand in Dexter leaving me. That’s probably unfair on him, since the chances are that Dex just wasn’t that into me. But since I’ll never know for sure what went down in their meeting, I will always hold the grudge.
I will always hold that tiny little shred of belief.
But the main thing that’s holding me back from falling for Adam—or anyone for that matter—is the sad fact that I’m still in love with Dexter. I know what a pathetic, lonely weirdo that makes me, but I can’t help it. Because of this knowledge, I’ve put dating on the backburner; pushed it way down my list of priorities.
Wanted - Dead or Alive: A Bad Boy Outlaw Romance Page 14