Mr. Right Now: Vol. 2: Party Boy in Room 211

by HJ Bellus

  HJ Bellus

  Mr. Right Now, Volume 2

  Copyright © 2015 by HJ Bellus.

  Formatting: JRA Stevens

  Cover Designer: Red Bird Designs

  Photographer: FuriousFotog

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of HJ Bellus.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication-

  Never let a vision go to waste…chase after all of them! You can do it.

  His dad told him about self-pity and being low in the darkest of moments, but never did he explain to Dax the heartbreak that comes with loving. He’s tried to avoid it for years and has been successful, until her. The woman who saved him from his own personal hell, or literally spiraled him out of control from lust. Dax needs her again, but may not be able to control his appetite.

  He’s tried to fuck her out of his memory by calling in more and more women and throwing bigger and badder parties in the penthouse, but nothing can erase the memory of her. Dax fears he’s fucked for life from spending one night with her. Even Eli, the love-stricken playboy, picked up on it a few minutes ago. He actually sent away his lover girl to spend quality time with him. Fucking Eli should know better; Dax will never discuss his feelings.

  From a young age, he never told secrets to anyone but his mother. She told him night after night that she loved him and would never leave. It took months for his adopted mother to break through to him, and in just one night this stranger tore down every single one of his barriers with her simple touch.

  “Fuck this,” Dax growls to the empty room. Eli rushed out a few minutes ago, and in a horrible way he is relieved his younger brother left him alone.

  He’s tired of his cock stirring and reminding him of her. Done, he’s absolutely done stirring after her. Dax put this party together and he’ll fuck his way through it.

  He stands, reviewing his reflection in the mirror. He’s over six feet tall, lean, and muscular, making sure his body stays in shape. Dax punishes himself in the gym. Nowhere else but the gym. He sees his progression in the mirror and watches it closely. His demons lie in the mirror, and he stares at them.

  The only way he can numb his feelings is through sex, but by fucking her he lost that trick, like a rabbit out of the hat. Dax lost all of his tricks. Nothing numbs the pain, not even the gym. It’s been months, and he can’t find his own poison to silence the demons in his own mind.

  Dax needs to fuck, and that’s the only way he’ll get her out of his system.

  Entering the living area of the penthouse, Dax really can’t believe his eyes. The whole commotion is on his shoulders, and he wants to participate, but knows it won’t take the sting away. Maybe dull the pain for a few minutes, but the sting will always linger.

  He finds the closest female strutting around naked, seizes her by the waist, and measures how his cock reacts to her. And it does come to life. Dax knows this is his opportunity, and he takes it. He grabs the blonde by the back of the head, and she squeals in delight. He takes it as his go-ahead to sink a finger deep into her. Her flesh amazes him, and he finds his hand working overtime loosening her up and making liquids flow. My god, the bitch is wet and ready to pounce him. Her tits are what dreams are made of, and he just needs one touch of them with his lips to feel whole again. Red fingernails run up and down his zipper. The vibration from her nails excites Dax even more.

  He’s over public fucking. Dax needs a private place that’ll allow him to savor her. He knows it’s a sick and twisted fantasy, but he needs her again, and this blonde might just make him forget.

  He snags her hand lingering on his clothed cock and hauls her to the deserted room where he had been drinking.

  “My name is Destiny.”

  “I don’t fucking care what your name is.” Dax’s large hand finds his zipper. “I just need to fuck and forget.”

  The blonde slips a hair tie off her wrist and seductively ties up her long curls into a messy pile on the top of her head. “I can help you out, Dax.”

  He cringes as his name rolls off her tongue. He wants the sweet sound of the other woman saying—hell, moaning it—and begging for more. Who could have imagined one woman would have the ability to destroy him from one single night? He’ll always regret falling asleep and waking up to an empty bed.

  Destiny closes the distance between them. Her breasts brush up against his shirt, and her nipples grow harder. Dax pushes down on Destiny’s head, guiding her to her knees. He pulls his cock from his unzipped jeans. Destiny gasps at the impressive sight.

  She doesn’t take any action, but simply stares at it. Dax uses his hand once again, forcing the back of her head. Her lips wrap around him. She moans loudly, and it comes out muffled.

  “Shut the fuck up, Destiny.” When he speaks her name, it’s laced with poison. “Just suck and shut the fuck up.”

  Dax tilts his head up, staring at the ceiling with a firm grip on each side of her head, guiding her up and down. His eyes clench and he begins to picture her. Long auburn hair, creamy skin, and innocence for days rocked his world. The bed he laid her down in comes back to him, with her red hair fanned out over the stark white sheet.

  There was a scared look in her eye, but she begged Dax to take her. He’d never been so careful while fucking in his life. He didn’t fuck her; he made love to her, slow and sweet. Dax slows down the bitch sucking him and reminisces what it felt like to be in her. His cock stiffens, pulsing with a need for release, remembering the sound of her whimpers as he drove into her.

  He needs her more than anything he’s ever wanted, and he needs this release to feel sex again and get the old Dax back. He guides Destiny faster on his cock, forcing her to go deeper. She begins gagging, only adding to his impending climax. He feels her fingernails dig into the flesh on his thighs. The stinging pinch sends him over the edge. He spills into Destiny’s mouth with his eyes still clenched and picturing Holden’s face when he came inside her.

  “Motherfucker,” Dax growls.

  “That good, huh?” Destiny says, standing and licking her lips.

  “Out, now.”

  “But…”

  “Out!” Dax roars.

  He slumps on the edge of the couch, staring down at his feet and realizing how incredibly fucked he is. He stands no chance at ever recovering from the spell Holden cast on him.

  The ruckus from the penthouse begins to annoy him. He needs to be numb, and he knows exactly what can do that. It’s damn near impossible as he has to fling women off him left and right, but he finally makes it to the kitchen counter where he hid his stash. It’d piss Eli off to see him sniffing a line coke in the sight of others, but Dax knows he’s long gone. Cole’s preoccupied with a couple, and Kam’s already passed out on the couch. Not one of his brothers to scold him. Hell, as far as they know, he’s been clean for over a year.

  Dax doesn’t hit it hard anymore, but he does always keep some around. Some months he snorts almost daily, and then he can practically wean himself off the shit by drinking way too much. His fingers find his little baggie in the drawer. He pulls the blade from the bag and begins lining up the white powder.

  A small amount of adrenaline begins to course through his veins with the anticipation of what’s to come. When it’s al
l prepped to perfection, Dax bends, plugging one nostril, pictures Holden’s gorgeous face, and snorts. He doesn’t stop until his whole stash is gone.

  In party mode and ready to roll, Dax wakes a few women sleeping on the couch. It takes them only moments to come to life. One slips to her knees before him while he begins kissing the other, fondling her breasts. That’s right, the king is back. The motherfucking king who has women crawling after him.

  “Dax.”

  The voice gets louder and louder as Dax’s shoulder begins to shake violently. He tries to open his eyes, but is way too fucked up to make that happen. He just wishes whoever the fuck is yelling would shut the fuck up.

  “Dax.” He recognizes Cole’s voice, but still can’t wake.

  “Leave the fucker behind, Cole. There’s no way you’re waking that beast,” Kam says.

  The voices disappear as he slips back into his drug and alcohol induced coma where the world is silent and peaceful. Not one worry pesters him there, and he has nothing to portray. It’s simply a peace Dax can’t experience anywhere else.

  He’s not sure what time it is or how many hours passed, but some prick’s phone keeps ringing off the hook. This time he’s able to sit up on the couch, even though his head whirls and pounds.

  “Fuck.” Dax rubs his temples, trying to make the pain settle. He notices everyone has departed the penthouse, leaving behind a horrendous mess of food and broken objects. The phone goes off again, and he stands to find it. He spots his iPhone sitting on the counter in the kitchenette. When he reaches it, the open drawer and empty baggie remind him of the binge.

  It’s such a nasty cycle, and he knows he’ll do it again, but doesn’t want to. He checks the phone and sees Cole’s name flashing on the screen.

  “The fucking club better be on fire,” he says to himself before sliding over the answer icon.

  “What?”

  “You need to get dressed and head down to St. Mary’s hospital now. Call a cab.”

  “Why?”

  “Call a cab, because you’re probably still fucked up.”

  “Why get to the hospital?”

  “It’s Eli. Hurry.”

  Cole disconnects the call, leaving Dax scratching his head. The few words buzz around his thoughts. Eli, hospital, hurry. What in the fuck could’ve happened?

  Dax slowly shuffles to the refrigerator searching for a beverage. He snags a bottle of orange juice and tosses the green lid across the room.

  The liquid quenches his thirst, but his stomach lurches, cautioning him to stop. This isn’t Dax’s first hangover. For years, it was the norm. He knows he needs to keep drinking the juice and let his body puke. He slams back the jug and then starts the shower.

  He follows his ritual of boiling hot water, then the last five minutes of straight cold. The temperature shock always clears his fuzzy head. He still feels like shit, but can think a bit better now. Dax dresses quickly, throwing on the only clean clothes he has. A pair of worn blue jeans and a black V-neck hugs his body perfectly. The perk of keeping his hair clipped tight is the styling time. A few quick swipes of hair glue through the top and he’s striding to the elevator. He prays for just one more glimpse of Holden, but knows his chances are slim. It’s like she’s vanished into thin air.

  Dax was correct. No Holden. He gets his coffee and hails a cab. His brothers must both be gone already, as none of the Sterlings’ vehicles are in the parking garage. The drive to the hospital takes over thirty minutes. It doesn’t help matters that the driver got lost three times. Dax wastes no time tipping the man as he bolts from the back seat. He searches for signs pointing the direction to the ER. Dax always has to be conscious of not being too intimidating due to his size. He’s actually been asked to leave establishments because he came across as too aggressive to other customers.

  He doesn’t worry about being intimidating right now. The smells of the hospital send him into panic mode, thinking the worst of everything. Nothing could happen to Eli. The four brothers are so tightknit that if something happened to one of them it would devastate the other three. Their bond is stronger than most blood siblings.

  Dax finally spots the red oblong emergency sign and the arrow pointing to the right. He rounds the corner in three long strides and sees his brothers sitting on a couch. All three of them are together, and he wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him. Cole and Kam have concerned expressions, and Eli is a mess, barely recognizable. He’s covered in blood, has swollen eyes, and his legs bounce up and down.

  Cole sees Dax first and stands. They take a few steps away from Eli, who still hasn’t even acknowledged Dax. His eyes are dead.

  “The fuck?” Dax asks.

  “It’s Chloe.” Cole folds his arms over his chest. “She was attacked in her home tonight…or I mean last night.”

  Dax glances down at his phone and notices it’s six a.m.

  Cole leans back on the wall, exhaling a long breath. “The ER doctors have basically told Eli she’s not going to make it. They’re trying to keep her alive until her mom gets here.”

  “When does she fly in?”

  Cole checks his wristwatch. “In about five hours. We’ll have a driver waiting for her at the airport.”

  “How’s he doing?” Dax asks.

  “How does he look like he’s doing?”

  Dax can’t stand the distance between them any longer. Rushing to Eli, he wraps him in a hug and rocks him back and forth. Eli doesn’t fight it and just melts into him. Dax knows there are no words he can say to take any of Eli’s pain away.

  Eli starts to talk into Dax’s chest. Cole and Kam move in closer to hear his barely audible voice.

  “She was attacked by Ethan Harwell. I don’t know any more details.”

  The men fall silent. The sounds of the emergency room fill the tiny waiting area. Dax’s arm remains locked around Eli as they sit and wait. The hours tick by, and minutes begin to feel like years as Dax studies the clock. They haven’t heard one thing. Kam’s been at the check-in desk every thirty minutes harassing them for information, but nothing.

  “Eli Sterling.” A police officer stands with his hands on his hips.

  “Yes.” It’s the first movement he’s made in hours. Eli is quick to stand from the couch.

  “I’m Detective Demaley, and this is my partner Detective Patrick. We have some questions for you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Go ahead and sit back down.” The detective gestures for Eli to be seated. “Gentlemen, please excuse us.”

  “Can they stay? They’re my brothers.”

  The detective looks over each man, seeming suspicious of his claim of kinship. “I guess. I need to warn you that I’ll be asking some pretty tough questions. Just let me know if you need a break.”

  “I understand.” Eli rubs his eyes, trying to ready himself.

  “How do you know Ms. Chloe Jo Thompson?”

  “We grew up together and recently reconnected here in L.A.” Eli sits back on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “She also works for us.”

  “For what reason did you go to her apartment last night?”

  “I was actually talking to her on the phone when she was attacked. She sent me a picture with roses in the background and said thank you. I panicked, knowing they weren’t from me, and tried calling her.”

  The detective leans forward on his knee. “Let me stop you, son. Are you two in a romantic relationship?”

  “Yes, sir, she’s my girl.”

  “Go ahead.” Detective Demaley aims his pen once again toward his notepad.

  “When we were talking, I heard her scream, and then it was…”

  Eli finally begins to sob. It’s the first sign of his tears.

  “Take your time, bro,” Dax comforts him.

  “I could tell something was wrong, and she screamed for help.” Using his t-shirt, Eli tries to wipe away the flood of tears. “I called 911 and went straight to her. I beat the first responders and just hel
d her.”

  “Did you know your girlfriend was pregnant?”

  If at all possible, Eli’s face becomes paler, and his whole body begins to shake.

  The detective goes on. “Is there any reason you’d want your girlfriend dead?”

  Dax is on his feet and in the detective’s face. “We’re fucking done here.”

  “Calm down, sir, I have to ask these questions.”

  Cole joins in with Dax. “We already know Ethan Harwell was there and did it. He hates us.”

  “But why would he want to hurt Chloe?” the detective rebuts.

  “Because.” A different voice joins the conversation, and all eyes turn to the new police officer. She’s not what you’d expect in a cop. “Detective Demaley, a word, please?”

  “About what?”

  Even with all the stress surrounding the men, Dax picks up the disrespectful tone the detective spit in the officer’s direction.

  “This case, sir.”

  “Talk.”

  “Sir, Chloe was scheduled to be in court this morning with a case against Ethan Harwell.”

  Something in Eli sparks to life as he leaps to his feet and begins yelling. “Fucking bullshit. She had a meeting this morning.”

  Dax watches his brother put the puzzle pieces together as each word leaves his mouth. He wants to comfort his brother somehow, but doesn’t know what to do.

  The female detective places her tablet in her lap. “Chloe pressed a Destruction of Property charge against Harwell back in January. Her car was vandalized, and a no contact order was also put in effect. ”

  “That motherfucker,” Eli roars. “Dax, take me to him now.”

  The remaining pieces fall in place for the other brothers. It’s how Chloe moved on with the ribbon cutting ceremony and never let the Harwells affect her work. She thought she had them by the balls.

  “Eli, stop, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here.” Dax seizes his brother by the shoulders and shoves him back down onto the couch.

  Eli isn’t deterred and continues to fight him, and the other two do their best to restrain him. A man clothed in a white coat enters the room, and after a hurried exchange with Dax to obtain consent, gives Eli a shot.