What I saw when I blocked Geoff out, just for a second, to find my sanctuary, brought the murderous thoughts back in full force.
~Curtis~
I hadn’t fought with anything but my mind for years, and couldn’t remember how to stand, or how to punch fluidly so it wouldn’t ache, but thankfully, Benny was gentle. He put some combinations together and we practised on each other; he hit me just enough to cause gusts of breath to rush out, and I hit him hard enough to get a sense of satisfaction.
“Left, left, right,” he instructed with a grin. “Left, left, right.”
I smiled as I moved to a rhythm, and the momentum picked up until we were taking it in turns, knowing what was coming next, and bobbing and weaving to avoid it and catch the other off guard.
I laughed, carefree for the first time in a long time, and the tension around Benny’s eyes began to ease. Fighting really was a release, and you didn’t have to hurt someone to feel it.
“What the fuck?”
Benny hit me in the stomach as I turned, hearing Curtis’ voice and reacting to the aggression it held. I doubled over with a high-pitched grunt of surprise and Curtis shot into the ring, grabbed Benny by the throat and thrust him into the post in the corner.
“Curtis.” I stood up straight, composed myself and addressed him calmly. “It’s okay. We were just sparring while we waited.”
“For what?” He asked, turning to me as Benny shoved him off with a smile that was no longer friendly.
I’d been played, and Curtis had stepped into the trap.
“I was waiting for you, and Benny was waiting for his partner.”
“Get out of the ring, Skye.”
“Only if you come with me.”
He sighed, deciding not to fight me as Geoff appeared by the canvas. Curtis stepped up to the ropes and held them open; I climbed out and jumped to the floor, turning to watch him do the same. There was little doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t have walked away if Geoff wasn’t there. I was grateful, but the dread of leaving fell over me.
“He doesn’t have a partner, Skye. He’s a murderer on the run.”
I gasped and looked at Benny. He raised his hands, glared at me over his gloves and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Do not move.”
Curtis put one hand on my shoulder as if to fix me to the spot, and disappeared into the office, returning seconds later with a small piece of paper. He threw it into the ring and I caught the address scrawled on it as it floated to the canvas.
Benny snatched it up and smiled in satisfaction.
“Tomorrow, Geoff,” Curtis said.
He tore the gloves from my hands, grabbed the back of my neck, and steered me towards the lift, my clothes forgotten.
“What was on the paper, Curtis?”
We were rushing back through the gym and out towards the carpark. Curtis was manhandling me, ignoring my unbalanced stumbles, and kept me in stride with him with his fingertips digging into my neck.
“Nothing,” he grunted.
“What’s wrong with Geoff?”
He opened the passenger door and shoved me in, muttering the same one word answer. I pulled the seatbelt on and waited for him.
“I’m not a ragdoll,” I snapped when he folded himself into the car and wasted no time starting the engine and pulling away from the gym. “Put your belt on.” He pulled it across his body and I took it off him to clip it into the socket. “You can't keep pulling me around like I'm nothing. I have a say in this, too.”
“Not this.”
“Not this? Not Charlie? Not the truth you kept from me about Oliver? What exactly do I have a say in?”
Curtis didn’t answer and we were quiet as he eased the car through the traffic, the sun beginning to set over the city and casting bright orange rays between the buildings.
“You promised,” he whispered. I looked at him, but his eyes were fixed on the road, obviously avoiding me, like I wasn’t meant to have heard him.
“What?”
His eyes flickered to me and then back to the road. There were no signs of darkness, just a broken man. I wanted the darkness to return; anything but to have to see the defeated look in his glistening eyes.
“You promised you’d never step foot in a ring, and you did. With him.”
“Now is not the time for jealousy.”
“Actually, it is.” He pulled up at a red light, grabbed a bottle of water from the side of the door and drank some before handing the bottle to me. “He’s a murderer, has some sort of screwed up vendetta against me, the quitter, and then he gets one-up by getting my girl in the ring.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“The industry is like that. Our women are protected from the filthy thoughts in the others’ heads. You do not put gloves on another fighter’s woman.”
“It had nothing to do with me. He was trying to rile you up.”
“He did. He was making a point. I’m not a fighter, I gave up…so he had the right to do that to you.”
“It’s not a game.”
“It is to Benny. You wanna eat?” he changed the subject, whipped my head around in a U-turn and waited for my hungry nod before he spun me back again. “If you’d have kept your promise, he wouldn’t be in the gym now, telling everyone what he did.”
“What promise?”
“You don’t remember?” He shot me a look that forced me to turn his head back in the direction of the road.
“No.”
“You promised you’d never step foot in a ring. Any ring…ever.”
I did promise him that, years ago in a dark gym in Kent when I was falling apart and needed Curtis to hold the pieces back together. Now it was up to me to do that for him.
“I did, didn’t I? I'm sorry, Curtis. I-”
“You forgot, I know.” He sighed, disappointed. “Now you see why I have the word trust inked on my body forever.”
“Thanks,” I bit. “A fucking guilt trip is all we’re short of right now.”
“I can't…I can't see you standing in a ring ready to fight. Like Ollie did. I can't see you in the same position he was in when he died. It will break me, Skye, and I’m just about keeping it together for us.”
We said nothing else as Curtis drove around the city, looking for a parking spot so we could go and eat. I didn’t want food now, not after that. I wanted to hide. I hated myself for breaking a promise I made Curtis. I felt guilty; I’d felt nothing but guilt since I let him throw me out over a decade ago. Seeing him now, being back around him and being able to feel his pain like it was my own, reinforced that shame. If I’d have refused to leave and not let him push me away, I could have saved him. I was ten years too late, but by God, I’d save him now.
Sixteen
It was an image I’d take to the grave, Skye smiling as she threw a punch, lost to the escape of the fight and relaxed for the first time since we’d been back in each other’s lives. But it should have been me coaching her in the ring. It should have been me taking her punches and demanding she do it harder, faster, with more power. I wanted her to hurt me, not entertain some punk kid who killed his father. We sat in silence and I watched her eat while the setting sun sat behind her and brought out red shades in her dark hair. I was winter; barren, cold and empty, but Skye was autumn; alive, flourishing and full of life. Would we ever be compatible? I wasn’t sure, but I refused to consider the reality of what our differences would lead to.
She wanted to talk, I knew that, but she sat quietly and didn’t say a word. I had manipulated her – she shut down because she was afraid of my reaction. I shut down because I was afraid of her reaction. We were mind-fucking each other.
I opened my mouth to talk to her, about anything; about the weather, the brand of tomato ketchup that sat between us, or the ice that melted in her glass of water. But my breath caught in my throat every time I tried and I fought back the three little words that fought to burst out. Love wasn’t enough, and I wouldn’t profess an emotion that only cover
ed a fraction of what I felt for the Skillet.
~Curtis~
Music burst from the speakers and filled the apartment – some sort of remix of a OneRepublic song. I sat up from where I was curled up on the sofa with Curtis’ iPad. He’d said nothing when we ate, refusing to talk about Geoff – or anything else – so I decided I’d get some work done and check in with my friends at home. Thomas had left me enough money to live; he left me everything – the house, his shares in SportsUK, his car and all the money in his bank accounts. I could run away and never have to worry, but where was the good in that? I’d run away with money before and in the long run? Everyone I’d ever known suffered for it.
The music continued to pound from behind Curtis’ bedroom door; a fast beat that filled my head with chaos – sampled music from popular songs that were so distorted I couldn’t put names to them; a synthesiser that set my heart racing in time to the sub-bassline.
What the fuck was he listening to?
I tossed his iPad to the side and stood from the sofa, heading for the bedroom. He’d be turning it down. Right down.
I twisted the handle and swung the door open.
The source of the music was right here, louder than the rest of the apartment but the room was empty. Curtis’ phone sat in a dock on the shelf in the corner and I crossed the room. As I reached out to take it off, two big hands caught my hips and I jumped. I opened my mouth to speak – or gasp – but Curtis lips found my neck, catching my next breath in my throat; my body reacted violently, like the music that shook the walls of the bedroom.
“I wondered when you’d come and find me,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and full of lust as his mouth skated over my skin and I angled my head for more.
“This music is…” I trailed off as his hand glided round my front, over my hip and between my legs.
“Stimulating?”
I nodded. “I don’t understand it.”
I swallowed, feeling my throat move against his mouth. My knees wobbled and I clamped my legs closed as his fingertips explored. I gasped.
“There’s nothing to understand,” he said. “Just feel it.”
Snaking his free hand around my waist, he pulled roughly and my body collided with his, every inch of it hot and hard. He rolled his hips, his swollen cock pressing into my ass.
His hands left where they stroked, teased and caressed, setting my body on fire; they quickly tore at my t-shirt, another garment carelessly destroyed, until my body was exposed. One hand returned between my legs, one exploratory finger teasing with fervour as the other took hold of my hand and brought it up to cover my breast.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he rasped.
I closed my eyes and laid my head back on him as I squeezed and pinched my nipples. I moaned freely, feeling the tightening of an oncoming orgasm as the pleasure of my hands, his fingers and his cock sliding between my legs collided. Strangled, hoarse groans left his lips and sent goosebumps erupting to the surface of my skin.
“Curtis,” I keened and rocked my hips into his delicious rhythm.
“Yes, Skillet?”
He slowed with the music I moaned in frustration.
“I want to come.”
“So come,” he smiled against my skin before his teeth sunk into my shoulder. “Fall for me, baby. I’ll catch you.”
I nodded and the emotion moved in with the need to release. I’d already fallen for him, when I was a lost and lonely teenager.
His movements picked up pace; I squeezed my eyes shut and searched for the switch that would bring me the release I needed. Curtis flipped it when his hand moved from my hip to my throat, pinning me to him with no choice but to absorb everything he gave me. I succumbed, crying out with a breathless moan, and let the pleasure take over my body. Every nerve trembled and my legs shook as the euphoria gave way to sensitivity. I begged Curtis to stop but he continued, keeping me on the crest of every wave, until the floor fell from beneath me, my legs gave up and Curtis took all of my weight.
“How are you, Skillet?” he asked with the erotic humour of a man who had just watched his woman come apart.
He was cradling me in his arms, but the music still played, keeping the exhaustion my body begged for away. Curtis was sticky with sweat and wildly turned on, his body melded to mine like he needed it to survive. He needed release. I needed more.
“More,” was my answer, “More, Curtis. Give me more.”
“Are you sure?”
I growled in response and forced my body to hold its own. Curtis chuckled and let go of me. The song playing transitioned into a new, slightly slower but just as compelling piece and Curtis guided me to turn and face the bed. His hand moved to the back of my neck and he bent me over until I fell onto my knees with my top half pressed into the mattress. Both hands skimmed the curves of my waist and settled on my ass. He squeezed and hummed in appreciation. I squirmed.
“I can see how wet you are, Skillet. Wet and needy, and desperate for my cock.”
“Your mouth,” I breathed, my eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. “Use your mouth.”
I heard him fall to the floor behind me and his hands squeezed harder as he dipped his head. I cried and fisted the bed sheet as his mouth, hot with the inferno of passion that matched the fire inside me, collided with where I needed him. His tongue probed, his mouth sucked and his teeth grazed until I was writhing on the bed, held still only by his hand on my lower back. I threw my head back, outstretched my arms and clawed at anything I could get my hands on.
“Yes!” I cried, edging ever nearer to a euphoric scream. “God, Curtis, don’t stop.”
He groaned against me, feasting on me like he was starved and I snapped, grinding against him as my body lost control. He growled, low and drawn out, lapping up my release and caressing my quivering legs.
“Christ, Skye,” he grunted, leaning over me to capture my mouth and we shared the flavour of my need for him. “I need you. I fucking need you to live.”
“So take me.” I wiped his mouth and pushed back against him. “I’m yours, Curtis. Take me.”
Fingertips dug into my pelvis as he nudged into me and kept his body folded over mine. He plunged in deep with short, sharp thrusts, drawing violent cries from our lungs, and leaned up to drive into me. He fisted my hair and pulled, bringing my head back and I arched my back to allow him to thrust into the depth where pleasure and pain became one.
The music thumped, Curtis rode me without restraint, using my hair to hold me still – to keep me open for him. His hands squeezed tight as the burn moved in and joined the madness; the desperation for the man using my body. Our sweat-soaked bodies collided and a new wave of pleasure began to build. My stomach tightened, my breaths came short and brought a whimper with each one. I moved my hands behind me and held onto his wrists; I wanted every stroke of his cock, buried deep and swelling inside me, to take me with him. He shoved me into the mattress, my knees shunted closer to the bed from the force of his thrusts and the sweat began to drip from him onto my back as he marked me as his and I took him as mine.
My animal.
His movements became uneven, rough and erratic. His breaths escaped in growls and groans and conflicted words of encouragement.
“Skye-”
“Yes, you can!” I cried when I heard the tightness in his voice, knowing what he was going to say. I refused to let him ruin this.
The music brought sirens with it and a voice sang about being ready and coming closer.
“Let me do it,” I said, resting up on my hands. “Let me take it from you.”
I threw my head back and looked at Curtis over my shoulder. The need to explode was etched on his face; his chest was heaving and covered with a sheet of perspiration. The muscles on his stomach, tight and rippling beneath golden skin, made me clench around him. The sight of a man nearing release was stunning; Curtis on the verge of an earth-shattering orgasm was the sight I wanted to see when I died. He was no longer human, but an animal who had come
to stake his claim. He was fucking beautiful and he was mine. I wasn’t a skillet, he was, and he’d burned his soul into mine.
“Come for me, baby,” I coaxed. “Let me watch you come for me.”
He nodded and moved his hands round to his back. His lean hips pressed into my ass, the ‘V’ disappearing as I watched where we were connected.
“You’re mine, Cut Throat,” I groaned, sliding up and down his cock. “And I want you to give me what’s mine.”
“Ride it, Skillet.” He bit his bottom lip as I took him in and squeezed hard. “Make me come for you.”
I rolled my hips as I fucked him to release. His groans were strained, his face tight, and his cock began to jerk inside me. With a loud roar, he let himself go and collapsed onto me, holding me still as he pumped his cum deep inside me.
He was my animal and I fucking loved him.
Seventeen
I needed to be inside her to stay focused. I needed physical release so my mind wouldn’t run away with me. So, yes, I used her. At first. I soon lost myself to the music, to the pounding of my blood in my ears and the ecstatic cries that accompanied it. It was like a symphony; a filthy dirty symphony of our need for each other; an ominous beat, a sense of hope but a slashing of dreams. Fast pace; time was running out, and speeding past with every second. But our moans were ours. Our feelings were ours and ours alone and no one could take it from us. The sounds that swirled around my bedroom, each one colliding with another and losing itself to fate, was our theme song. Our twisted theme tune of a race towards a happy ever after before the walls crumbled and every demon you’d ever fought came back with a vengeance.
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