by Ambere Sabo
My cock is behaving himself, thank fuck. Until she starts to do that damn stretch again. Before he can make his presence widely known, I make quick work to move from behind her. I don’t feel like getting slapped for the way my body reacts to hers now that she's more coherent.
“Breakfast?” the word rushes out nervously. She looks up at me in confusion. Not only have I left the bed abruptly, but now I sound like a dumb ass. Just awesome. “Do you want some breakfast, well actually lunch since we slept through breakfast? Hyde’s Ol’ Lady left some menudo for you. He said it would help with your hangover,” I explain as I hastily yank my jeans and shirt back on.
“That would be fantastic. I feel awful,” she admits, slowly sitting up on the bed.
“I don’t see how. You had to have thrown up everything you drank last night,” I say with a chuckle.
She looks up at me with a look of horror on her face, and it hits me. “You don’t remember throwing up last night?” I question, and she shakes her head. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
She thinks for a minute before answering me, “Getting up and going to the bathroom.”
“Shit,” I exclaim. How did I not realize she blacked out after that?
Covering her face with her hands, she says, “ Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid.”
I could totally fuck with her right now, but seeing as it's my fault that Hyde didn’t cut her off, I let her off easy with, “No, sweet cheeks. Aside from cussing me out in Spanish, at least I think, you were perfect.”
Giggling, damn I love that sound, she asks, “I cussed you out in Spanish?”
With a smile, “I’m not sure what you said actually. Something about idiota lindo. But I don’t speak Spanish, sweet cheeks,” I admit as her cheeks turn rosy. “Now come on, let's get some food in you,” I tell her, offering her my hand.
Pulling her from the bed, I make sure her feet are planted, and she’s steady before turning to walk to the kitchen. Her eyes dart around as she follows behind me, taking in all that the details of the small cabin. It may be small, but it has all the amenities of a small hotel room. If she’s like any other girl I’ve ever known, she’s going to love the garden-sized tub in the bathroom. Girls go crazy over that shit.
Walking into the kitchen, I open the fridge, but I have no fucking clue what I'm looking for. I’ve heard of menudo, but it's not like Ma has ever made it before.
“Alright, sweet cheeks, what the hell is menudo?” I ask over my shoulder, standing in front of the open fridge with no damn idea what I’m doing.
“What? You’ve never had menudo?” she exclaims, gasping.
With a chuckle and a shake of my head, I admit, “No, I can’t say that I have.”
Bumping me with her hip, she pushes me aside. “Out of the way, Havoc,” she says grabbing a small pot from the top shelf before shooing me away.
Laughing as I sit at the little table in the corner, I watch her go to work. With the pot on the stove over the flame, she heads back to the fridge. Emerging with some limes, she begins cutting them. By the time she's finished with the limes, the stew is boiling, and she pours us both a bowl.
She puts the dishes down on the table and goes back to grab the limes. It smells fucking amazing, but I won't lie, it doesn’t look it.
“Now, don’t go making that face until you try it, pendejo,” she jabs with a smile.
Fuck it. When in Rome and all that shit. Getting a decent spoonful, I shove it in my mouth. Holy shit! That’s hot. I’m stuck between wanting to open my mouth to let the fire out or swallowing it and burning the hell out of my throat. In the end opening my mouth wins. A huge rumble of laughter erupts from her small frame. I know I look like a fool, but I don’t care. My mouth needs the air.
“It’s hot,” I exclaim in something other than English, which only furthers her laughter.
Finally, it’s cool enough that I attempt to chew what’s in my mouth. Attempt being the keyword. Damn, this meat is chewy. When I finally get it down, I’ll admit it’s not that bad. I like the corn looking shit. And the meat, well the verdict’s still out on that.
When I can finally speak, I ask, “What’s in this,” gesturing to the stew.
Without making eye contact, she blows into her bowl. “Beef stock, red chili, hominy, tripe, and spices. That’s what it's traditionally made with anyway, so I can only assume this is the same.”
“What the hell is a tripe?” I exclaim.
She takes a spoonful instead of answering me. Why the hell is she stalling? My eyebrow raises in question.
“It’s part of a cow,” she replies.
Alright, I like steaks and shit. I can handle some cow tripe. Blowing on the stew, so I don’t burn myself again and look like a bigger asshole, I finally take another bite. I still can’t get over the consistency of this meat. I’ve eaten some tough steaks in my life. That’s not what this is.
“What part of a cow?” I ask suspiciously.
She cuts her eyes at me and something flashes in them. But before I can read her expression, she looks away from me and mumbles, “Bull testicles.”
The mouthful of bull nuts goes flying out of my mouth, and the mouthful I already swallowed threatens to make a reappearance. Angel is laughing so hard that tears roll down her cheeks.
“You fed me cow testicles?”
“Technically cows don’t have testicles,” she giggles.
I am so disgusted at what I just had in my mouth that I can’t even appreciate the wonderful sound of her merriment. I need a napkin to wipe my tongue. “I don’t give a damn about technically. That’s fucked up.”
“Calm down, Havoc. I’m just kidding. Tripe isn’t bull testicles, though testicles prepared properly are rather tasty.” Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Just eat the food.”
My mind is all kinds of fucked up at the moment. I can’t process the innuendo. My fingers grasp my spoon. “So what is tripe? No shitting me this time.” I slurp another bite. Whatever tripe is, it can’t be as bad as fucking nuts.
“Stomach lining,”she mutters behind her hand.
What the hell did she just say? It didn’t sound a lot better than testicles. “Come again, sweet cheeks?” I question before taking another bite.
“Stomach lining,” she says louder.
Turning my head to the side, I spew everything from my mouth again and yell, “What the fuck? Are you fucking serious?”
She’s trying her damnedest not to laugh at me, it’s evident by the tears forming in her eyes. “Oh, come on, Havoc. It's not that bad,” she finally says with a giggle.
“The fuck it isn’t. I’m not eating that shit,” I exclaim, pointing at the bowl.
“Gringo’s,” she says with a sigh. “Don’t eat the meat then, but at least don’t waste the rest of the stew. And you better clean up the mess you just made when we’re finished.”
Looking at her like she’s trying to poison me, I nod. I won’t be rude and not eat what Hyde’s Ol’ Lady cooked for us, but I’m not touching the fucking meat again. No way, no how.
Chapter 16
Angel
After we finish lunch, I clean everything up in the kitchen, even Havoc’s mess. It’s the least I can do. I giggle to myself. Damn, watching Havoc lose his shit over the menudo was hilarious. I was hoping he wouldn’t ask what was in it. Usually, if you let people try something first and they like it, they’re less likely to ask questions.
He’s going to pitch a fucking fit when I make him take me to my favorite taco stand before we leave El Paso. Luckily the menu’s in Spanish. I’ll lie about what the meat is if it gets him to eat. Everyone has to try their tacos at least once.
The more time I spend with him, the less of an ass I think he is. Will I admit that to him? Hell no. I can’t believe I threw up last night. And more importantly, I can’t believe that I don’t remember throwing up last night. Shit, I need to brush my teeth.
Walking into the bedroom to grab my bag, I damn near tri
p over my own feet at the sight in from of me. Havoc’s standing beside the bed with his back to me and his shirt off. I caught a quick glimpse this morning when I woke in a hungover stupor. But I didn’t get a chance to appreciate the image. He’s sexy as hell with his clothes on, so there's no denying that the view of his half-dressed body is fantastic, but what has my attention are the four scars forming two Xs across his spine.
A gasp slips out at the sight, and he turns his head in my direction. Throwing his t-shirt on quickly, he turns to face me.
“Havoc, what happened?” I ask softly.
As the minute's tick by, I’m sure he isn’t going to answer me when he finally says, “Sit down, Angel,” gesturing to the bed.
“Did you read the note Wrecker left at your parents?” he questions as he leans against the wall.
I nod in reply, and he sighs before telling me, “When I was sixteen, my father decided I needed a shove where women were concerned and a lesson in how to treat them. I’d finally stopped chasing Cessy. In all honesty, she’d friend-zoned me when we were eight.”
With that comment, I feel my heart clench. I love mi Reina like a sister, but hearing him admit he once had stronger feelings for her, makes me envy her, and it’s not a feeling I like. Pushing those feelings aside, I listen to the rest of his story.
“I hadn’t been with a girl yet, so Wrecker thought it was time I learned how to fuck. He took me to Blue Bells for my first time that night. I had no fucking idea what he was planning when he told me to pick any girl I wanted.” His eyes take on a faraway look as he is transported back to that moment in time.
“I chose a petite brunette with a hell of an ass. We went back to the VIP room. He told the dancer to make sure she took care of me, then he left the room. When she started undoing my belt, I tried to stop her, but she said it was her job to make me feel good. I wish I could say that I left the room, but I didn’t. I let her give me head, but when she tried to climb on top of me, I stopped her.”
My mind tries to reconcile the image of the boy he describes with the man I’m getting to know. I can’t make the two merge.
“I was a sixteen-year-old guy, and yes, I wanted to have sex. She was sexy as hell, but that wasn’t the way I wanted it. I didn’t even know her fucking name. She grabbed my arm and begged me to stay, but I just pushed her off and walked out. ” His fingers grip the back of his neck as a humorless chuckle slips past his lips.
“Wrecker caught up to me in the parking lot. He had the nerve to slap me on the shoulder and call me a man. It was the first time I ever hit the fucker. Clocked him right in the jaw, then I explained I didn’t fuck her. And I told him that he was a son of a bitch for thinking that’s what I needed. I mean come on what kind of father does that shit?” His eyes meet mine as if expecting me to answer. But what can I say to that? We both know a good father would never do that. I remain silent and pray the compassion and outrage on his behalf in my eyes says enough.
“The next night he pulled me into the basement at the clubhouse. He was drunk as fuck. Tied me to a chair and whipped me four times for the money I’d cost him. One for each hundred he’d paid her to fuck me. It was the first time he’d turned his anger on me. Though I’d been a witness to it for years. My hatred for him amplified that night.”
His fingers twine in the strands of his beard in an absentminded gesture. “I didn’t go to Blue Bells again until my eighteenth birthday. What I found out that night was the reason I left the Reapers for good.” Those fingers tighten involuntarily on the hair caught in their grip.
“I approached one of the girls and asked about the petite brunette he’d paid to fuck me. I don’t know why. I guess I wanted to see if she’d give me a lap dance or something. Maybe I could get to know her a bit. Anyway, the waitress told me the girl hadn’t worked there in over a year and a half. When I asked why she left she wouldn’t answer me. It cost me two hundred bucks to find out where the girl went. I was stunned at what I learned.” Havoc starts to pace the room like a caged lion.
“Blue Bells has a no refund policy, even if you’re a member. So Wrecker lost the money he’d paid her. He knew all the club girls though, so he found her the next day and demanded that she give the money back. She was a single mom who was down on her luck, so she’d already used it to get caught up on bills.”
I’m torn between wanting to stop this train in its tracks, so I don’t have to hear what comes next and needing to hear the events that shaped this man that I’m drawn to. Need wins out over want as I let him continue.
“He took the payment in skin just like he did with me, but instead of whipping her, he cut four gashes into her face. She almost died from the blood loss. Hawk, of course, found out about it, but his way of fixing things was to buy her off. They gave her ten grand to leave town and never come back. It wasn’t like she could actually refuse them. If she had, she would’ve been killed. So she took the money and ran.” His fingers are pulling on his beard so hard that I am certain it’s causing him noticeable pain. But I’m not sure the physical pain overshadows the pain of his memories and his unspoken guilt.
Looking up at me he finishes, “That’s the reason I left the Reapers. I refused to be any part of that. Cessy doesn’t know the real reason I left. I don’t know that I’ll ever tell her the truth. I still carry the guilt of what happened to that girl on my shoulders. But our fathers…” he pauses shaking his head, “what they did to that poor girl was unforgivable.”
With tears streaming down my face, all I can do is a nod in understanding of what he’s asking of me. He doesn’t want me to tell her this story, a story that could change mi Reina’s view of her pops. In the end, it’s not my story to tell, it’s Havoc’s.
Grabbing my bag from the floor, I say, “I'm going to brush my teeth and shower” Standing abruptly, I leave the room. If I stay, I’m going to have to comfort him. And I know he doesn’t want my comfort or my pity.
Walking into the bathroom, I press the door closed and sink to the floor sobbing. How could someone do that to his own son? And that poor girl. Who does something like that?
I didn’t think my opinion of Wrecker could get much lower, but by all that is holy, that man is the son of the devil. How Vic ever saw something redeemable in him just floors me. I know from what mi Reina has told me that he was very good at hiding the man he truly was. But how someone could be two totally different people is crazy to me.
Pulling myself together, I stand and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste. While I brush my teeth, my eyes drink in the details of the room. I missed the tour last night. After seeing the garden tub, I decide a bath is just what I need. Turning the dial as hot as it will go, I let it fill while I finish with my teeth.
Undressing, I make my way over to the steaming water and get in. Maybe I shouldn’t have turned the dial quite so hot, but I’m hoping the heat will distract me from my thoughts. After settling in, I can’t help but think about all the lives Wrecker has ruined in his time on this Earth. I cry for them. For each person, his evil has touched. For every soul, he destroyed, including mine.
A knock on the wooden door brings my attention back to the present. How long have I been in here? My tears have stopped falling, and my fingers are pruned, yet I feel no urge to get out of the now chilly water.
More knocking. “Sweet cheeks, you okay in there?” he asks through the door.
“You can come in,” I respond, knowing full well he’ll see every inch of my naked body when he does.
Opening the door, he takes a step into the room, but stops when he sees that I’m still in the bath. His eyes slowly roam up my body until he is looking at my face questioningly. I can’t blame him. I did freak the fuck out when I found him in my room just a few days ago, and now I'm inviting him to see me, all of me.
His basketball shorts do little to hide the reaction his dick has to my body. Standing up slowly from the water, I watch his reaction. His eyes drink the sight of me in like I’m the only glass of water in the Sahara
Desert. I step out of the bath, but I leave the towel on the rack when I walk over to stand in front of him.
He licks his lips as his eyes take in every inch of my skin. My breath sucks in on a gasp as I wonder what else he can do with his tongue. When his eyes reach mine, desire brims in them.
“Sweet cheeks?” his voice stutters with questions over those two words.
With a step forward the distance between us is erased, and my body is pressed up against him. His erection strains toward me through the thin fabric. “Make me forget, Havoc. Make me forget everything that’s happened to me. Let me help you forget all that you’ve been through, if only just for the day,” I whisper before pressing my mouth to his.
At first, he’s hesitant in returning the kiss. But I’m patient. After a moment, he runs his tongue along my bottom lip requesting entrance. With a sigh, I give it to him. It’s by far the hottest, most demanding kiss I’ve ever had. The heat of the kiss is going to evaporate all the clinging droplets of water from my skin.
Reaching down, he lifts me up by my ass, and I throw my legs around his waist. The new angle not only gives him better access to my mouth, but his dick rubs against my clit with each backward step he takes. When he bumps into the couch in the living room, he changes direction and heads straight for the bedroom.
As soon as we're in the room, he separates his lips from mine and lets my body slide down his until my feet are on the floor. Taking my face in his hands, he looks me square in the eye. Searching, questioning, devouring.
“You sure this is what you want, sweet cheeks?” he asks, stroking my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a chick as bad as I want you right now, but we can stop. Just say the word.”
My heart is beating a million miles a minute, and I can’t get my brain to function well enough to answer him. Actions speak louder than words anyway. So instead of voicing an assurance, I reach down and pull his t-shirt up as far as I can. His tall ass has to help me remove it entirely. After dropping his shorts to the floor, I feel his dick hit me in the stomach, and I can't help but look down.