by CY Jones
“Are you still planning on marrying that girl in December?” Geez, I can practically hear the disgust in his voice. The Turd can’t be that delusional and think for one second this man likes me.
“I am. Everything is set. I told you that already.”
“And Rebecca? Wh..?”
“A mistake,” The Turd growls, cutting him off. Now I really want to know who this Rebecca person is. It’s obvious The Turd is stopping his father from saying something he doesn’t want me to overhear. “We’ll talk about this more tonight at dinner. You pick the place this time and I’ll be there.”
“Alright,” his father grumbles. I focus on the sound of the chair in front of The Turd’s desk as it scrapes across the floor and footsteps leaving. Once the door shuts, The Turd loses his shit and fucks my mouth without mercy and renewed energy until he’s cumming deep down my throat with a loud groan. I try to swallow him quickly, but it’s too much cum and some escape, dripping from the corner of my mouth.
“Fuck me, I swear you were made for porn,” he comments, absentmindedly as he rubs his cum into my skin with his thumb. The thought of almost being caught must have turned him on or was it being watched that got him all excited?
Despite cumming, his cock is still hard and he bends me over his behemoth of a desk, this time with my tits pressed into the wood as he fucks me from behind. When he’s ready to explode, he turns me, spilling his seed onto my tits, before making an even bigger mess by fucking my tits until he calms down.
I feel used. A tool for him to get off. I’m sure as hell not feeling the love as his fucking fiancee. I love sex, maybe more than the average person, but this is something else. Something dark and unnatural. It’s like he’s taking revenge out on my body, but for what? What did I do to deserve being treated this way? I know one thing, I can’t allow things to continue like this. We’re going to have a little chat, The Turd and I, just not right now with me feeling so vulnerable. Wiping myself off, I leave without another word afraid he’ll call me back to humiliate me some more.
After fixing myself up in the bathroom, I ditch work again. At this point, I don’t care if they fire me. It would certainly make avoiding The Turd easier. Yeah, until he calls on you demanding to know where the hell you’ve been, Sophia reminds me. Shit, I forgot about that. Possessive needy bastard. Sometimes, at times like this, I want to let Gloria and Nancy fly free and just sit back and watch as the chaos ensues. It would certainly simplify things. Hell yeah, they both cheer.
Sorry, girls. Being irrational won’t help in this situation. In fact, I’ve been going at this all wrong. I need to stop being so focused on how The Turd is treating me and do what I do best.
Which is? Sophia prods. I can practically feel her curiosity.
Sleuthing, but instead of investigating for my next big story, I need to be trailing that bastard. He’s hiding something and I intend to find out what. They all nod their head in agreement.
The Turd is up to something. The way he’s been acting has him coloring far out the lines of his character. Stalking my every move. Forcing me to be in his life. Shit, even the detached way he fucks me totally contrasts with his claims of love. I bet my left tit it’s all connected somehow in some grand scheme and I’m going to find out just what it is, and thanks to his dad, I know just where to start looking. Rebecca, you might just be my savior.
By the time I get back to the townhouse, I’m brimming with excitement. In my head, I sort out a plan of action in finding out who this Rebecca character is. If I go directly to The Turd’s father, I’m doubtful he’ll tell me anything, and then I’ll risk him telling The Turd what I’m up to. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s someone in the inner circle of society. An heiress or socialite. Those females The Turd’s father is always shoving in his face to replace me with. Those he considers better suited for his son. If so, back issues of the society page are a good place to start. If she comes from a family with money (the only type The Turd’s father is interested in), then surely she has been mentioned in one a time or two.
Opening the door, I practically skip into the living room. I'm so lost in my head that when I flip on the lights, I let out a girly scream when I spy a body sitting on the couch. It’s unexpected because I’m used to coming home to an empty house. Clutching my heart, I cry out “Chaz, what the fuck?”
“Well, hello to you too, sugar buns. That was quite the welcome. If I knew you’d be this excited to see me, I would have paid you a visit sooner.”
“Shit Chaz! What are you doing here sitting in the dark? You almost gave me a freaking heart attack.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, looking up at me as if he’s astonished I haven’t figured it out. “I came to see you. Is that job of yours working you too hard? When you left LA, you were a lot more astute.”
“Well, excuse me for being confused about your little surprise visit. I was under the impression that when you let me stay here, you didn’t come here much,” I volley back sarcastically.
“That was before, when my ex stayed here,” he states in a dismissive tone that says he won’t be elaborating. “You’re different, sugar buns, plus the word on the street is, you need me, so, tada, here I am,” he replies with a flourish, striking a pose.
“Word? What word? Who's been talking about me?” I’m confused because, besides my brother and Paige, I have no clue who would mention me to Chaz. Then there’s the fact they are all in LA, and as far as I know, we do not have any mutual acquaintances here in New York.
“I have connections here, and I may have asked them to keep an eye on you, covertly of course.”
“Chaz,” I gasp, holding my hand to my chest dramatically. “You sent someone to spy on me.” I have to admit, I’m actually surprised. I didn’t think he had it in him.
“Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t come back here and fuck up all that process you and that dish of a man you left behind made, and sure enough, not even a week has past and you’re already fucking everything up. I love you, sugar buns, like the fabulous little sister I always wanted, but really, what the hell is going on with you? My friend told me you’ve been getting real up close and personal with your ex. Can you please tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours that you thought getting back with that douchebag was a good idea?”
I huff a heavy sigh. I don’t even know how to begin explaining the mess I’m in. Also, I’m embarrassed and hurt. I wasn’t planning on getting back with The Turd, but that still doesn’t stop my head from reeling over how far he’d go to keep me with him. When Chaz sees the look on my face, he guides me over to the couch, and we take a seat. Sitting cat-a-corner with our knees pressed together, he gently takes my hands in his, rubbing them with his thumbs in a calming motion to put me at ease. Already, I can feel the anxiety welling up in my chest ready to explode. It’s amazing I’ve held it together this long. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” he says softly.
I’m embarrassed. I was a total idiot, and still am. I let The Turd treat me like his plaything, but I trust Chaz. So, like a flood gate busting open, I tell him everything, starting from when I came home and found The Turd waiting for me to the video he’s using to blackmail me into marrying him. When I’m done telling him all the dirty sordid details, my body feels hollow but relieved at the same time. This whole affair is draining, but it feels really good to finally tell someone and get it off my chest. Now, I feel as if a heavy fog has been lifted, even if it’s only a short reprieve.
What I love the most about Chaz is that he doesn’t judge. As I explained, he listens to every word without interruption. His gaze gently prodding me to continue when my voice would grow shaky and falter.
“Oh, sugar buns, I’m so sorry. Man, your ex is really a dick,” he says once I’m done, moving to pull me into his warm embrace. When his arms wrap around me, I nuzzle myself into his boy, hiding in his skin and breathing in his scent. He smells like fresh laundry and whatever cologne he uses, which I find calmin
g.
“Tell me something I don’t know. I hate him. Before, it was a mere dislike for a coward who couldn’t stand up to his father, but now, he has proven he’s nothing more than a snake with charisma, convincing gullible females like myself to take bites out of his poison apples. I want to chain him up and hurt him in the most painful of ways. Maybe skin his cock and give it to a voodoo priestess to make clothes for her dolls out of it.”
Chuckling, he says, “You’ve thought long and hard about your revenge, haven’t you? I can’t say I blame you. Normally, I’m more of a lover than a fighter, but I hate bullies and your ex sounds like a major shitbag. The question now is, what are you going to do to get out of it? Don’t tell me you’re going to keep up this charade and marry that asshole?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but with that video in his possession, he has me by the tits. He can ruin me and then what? I love my job. I love doing what I do, but if that video is released, my career will be over. No one will take me seriously or hire me once I’m fired for indecent behavior. Freelance work will also be out of the question. I rather not have to turn to the porn industry to keep a roof over my head.”
“I’m sure your sexy ass would make a killing,” he teases, but rushes on when he sees the scowl on my face, “but I’m doubtful it’ll have to come to that. I’m here now. I’m sure the two of us can come up with something to thwart your ex’s diabolical plans.”
“There was a reason why when I walked in here I didn’t notice you; I think I may have a plan to do just that, but there’s no guarantee it’ll actually work.”
“Well, tell me this plan, and I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“Don’t ask what I was doing, but while I was in The Turd’s office, his father came in concerned about some woman named Rebecca. I don’t have all the details because The Turd was adamant about not letting any details slip, but if I’m following what went down correctly, I think The Turd may have gotten her pregnant and her family is seeking a DNA test to prove the kid is his.”
“What!” Chaz roars. His beautiful eyes are practically bugging out his head, and I’m touched and a little teary-eyed that he’s so pissed on my behalf. “What the fuck? So, you mean to tell me not only did that fuckwad fuck you over, but he’s a cheating bastard as well? Geez, sugar buns. You hit gold when you picked him.”
“More like fool's gold, but as I’ve said I’m not sure of the details. I’m only piecing together the couple of snippets that slipped out. My theory could be completely wrong,” I shrug.
“Or you’re on the right track. I’m surprised the old man let that much slip with you there. Pretty ballsy of him.”
“Well… um… he didn’t exactly know I was there. At the time, I was under The Turd’s desk. Don’t ask,” I say when his eyes grow wide. I’m sure he’s put together exactly why I’d be under The Turd’s desk, but he has the decency not to push. One of the many qualities I love about Chaz. If Justin wasn’t in the picture or the fact that Chaz is unabashedly, flamboyantly gay, I’d be all over him.
“Okay, that aside, what are you going to do next?”
“I’m going to do what I do best. I’m going to find this Rebecca chick, dig up all The Turd’s dirty little secrets, and expose him for the douchebag he is. I’ll get my freedom, and he’ll regret blackmailing me.”
“And what about Justin? Where does he fit in with all of this? I think I’ve come to know you pretty well, and I’m sure you weren't crazy enough to get on the plane and let that hot pocket go?”
“No… well, I was, but then he sent me the sweetest email and I couldn’t go through with it. Now, I’m beside myself. Every time I’m forced to fuck The Turd, I think about Justin. Besides my horrible situation, he’s all I think about, but I’m conflicted. I care about Justin deeply, but what right do I have when I’m betraying him? I’m a terrible person. I should have just let him go and not been so damn selfish.” This is the first time I put into words how I feel about my situation and Justin. Sure, I’ve thought about it. It’s all I think about, but I’ve never actually spoken those thoughts out loud.
“Have you tried talking to him? I’m sure if you told him what’s going on, he’d be here, by your side quicker than the speed of light to fight on your behalf.”
The thing is, I know Chaz is right. I’m positive if I told Justin what The Turd is doing, he’d catch the first flight here and possibly get himself arrested for murder. I can’t allow him to put his future, his freedom at risk for me. “I can’t do that. He’ll flip. You know he will. The justice system has no qualms with putting the superhero behind bars, no matter the reason.”
“You can’t not tell him. If I’ve learned anything, sugar buns, it's this, what’s done in the dark always finds the light. It would be best if you told him, and he doesn't hear it secondhand from someone else.”
He’s right. I know he is, but I still can’t tell Justin. Hopefully, with Chaz’s help, I’ll be able to gather enough dirt against The Turd that he’ll leave me alone.
“I’m not going to push you. I can already tell your mind's made up and you’re not going to listen. Just keep in mind what I said. I’ve never seen Justin care for anyone the way he cares for you. Not even Paige. You, sugar buns, are his end game.”
I choke on a sob, burying my face deeper into Chaz’s shoulder, and like a true friend, he holds me tight while I ruin his expensive designer suit with my tears, until I’m all cried out and fall into an emotional coma.
12
Gay Sherlock Holmes
The next day, I march straight to The Turd’s office, not bothering with making an appointment first. When his secretary sees the look on my face, she doesn’t bother to stop me. Smart woman. I’m likely to strangle her if she’d tried. I’m done playing the victim. Chaz is right. If I don’t put a stop to this craziness and soon, Justin is likely to find out, and I could lose him forever. He’s trying so hard to make this work and I don’t want to lose him. He sent me another email this morning and with each word I read, tears stream down my cheeks like a leaky faucet. I refuse to let The Turd’s far-fetched delusions have me miss out on what possibly could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life. I want this to work, but I can’t do that if I’m here in New York, keeping things from him.
“Brooklyn, to what do I owe this pleasure?” The Turd says in a lazy drawl as soon as I storm through his office door, slamming it shut behind me. I don’t need any witnesses to this discussion and give his secretary anything to gossip about.
Going for it, I look him dead in the eyes and without a single hesitation, I tell him just what I think about him and this shitty ass relationship. “Drew, you’re an asshole and I want out. I don’t want to marry you. In fact, I’m not marrying you. You plus me does not equal happiness. I’m so fucking miserable right now, like Thirteen Reasons Why miserable, and you’re so caught up in your crazy delusions you don’t see it.”
“Is this about my father? I told you we can talk to him together. In fact, why don’t I arrange a family dinner tonight at our favorite restaurant, and we can get everything out in the open?”
My body is vibrating with anger. Why won’t he listen? Seriously has he always been this dense? Why won’t he make this easy on both of us? "Drew, your father has nothing to do with my decision and you know it. The truth is, I don’t love you anymore. You broke my trust repeatedly and not just with the interview. Now, you’re trying to blackmail me into marrying you. This is an insane level of toxic, and I’m stomping on the brakes right now. I’m sure if you open your eyes, you’ll see what I see, that we’re not good for one another.”
His face is thoughtful and I fall into a false sense of hope that he’s actually listening to me for once. Hearing me out. But like he’s been doing since I’ve gotten back, his next sentence proves just how foolish I really am when it comes to him.
“I have opened my eyes. I love you, Brooklyn. I’m in love with you. We’re not toxic. We’re gre
at for one another. Our love story was written in the stars and it’s you that is blind if you can’t read it. Why are you deliberately trying to throw away a good thing?
“Drew,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Well, I’m not going to let you. We’re getting married and that’s final. Do I need to remind you of what will happen if you betray me? I made a vow to you when I proposed and I plan on seeing it through.”
“Have you gone completely insane? If anyone is blind here, it’s you. You’re a smart guy. You can’t actually think this is love. Forcing me to do things I don’t want to do is not love. Forcing me to fuck you and then jerking your cum all over me like a drunken frat boy is not fucking love. Drew, I literally hate you. I hate everything you’re doing to me. If I could get away with it, I would murder you. If you mean what you say and have any love for me, you’ll let me go.”
Tears run freely down my face, destroying my carefully applied mascara, but I could care less. Inside, my body is vibrating with anger as well as sorrow. My mind is befuddled, unable to compute what to do next as my skin burns from the heat of my emotions.
“You don’t mean that,” he whispers.
“Yes, Drew, I do.”
“Well, I’m sorry, because you’re the love of my life and I can’t let you go.”
His words hurt me more than any weapon ever could. The look in his eyes is unwavering and I know he means each word. Standing here right now, pleading my case was useless. He will not withdraw nor will he bend. Without another word, I walk out of his office, defeated. Why speak when your opponent won’t listen?
For the remainder of the day, I stay in my office with the door shut and locked, ignoring anyone annoying enough to stop by. I leave my phone on vibrate, sending all calls straight to voicemail while I wallow in misery. I don’t know what I was expecting when I went to see The Turd. For some reason, I woke up this morning with a sense of determination. I really thought I could break through his stubbornness and get him to change his mind. I foolishly thought after having dinner with his father, and maybe - okay hopefully wishing - that if he actually did get some high society chick knocked up, his father could convince him to forget all about me and marry her. Having kids has always been high on The Turd’s to-do list. He has this plan for his life, and at the time, I was all for it, but now I’ve had enough of his BS and am searching for the way out of the room he trapped me in with no doors or windows.