by S. Van Horne
“Go!”
There’s a slight stutter in his rhythm at my words, but then he groans and slams back into me with enough force to rock me forward on the bed.
Yes!
It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to wash over me like a tidal wave. I cry out and clench around his cock. Four deep, hard strokes later, he follows me over the edge.
He collapses next to me and drags me onto my side, pressing his chest to my back.
“Wow.” It’s the only word I can manage to get out.
He barks out a laugh and rolls me onto my back before pushing up on one elbow. “I concur, counselor.”
I giggle, and he catches it with his lips, sucking out any breath I have left with the passion in his kiss.
Damn.
This man has managed to work his way into my heart in a matter of days. I just hope I’m not making a tremendous mistake.
He pulls back and frowns. “What just happened?”
“What do you mean?”
A hand moves forward to brush some hair away from my face. “You were here, then you were gone.”
Shit.
I don’t want to tell him what I was thinking. I’ve hurt him with my words enough already. But it seems I don’t need to voice my concerns.
He drops his forehead against mine and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’m done with that, Jo. I’m calling Jason today and telling him I’m retired, okay. It’s just you and me from now on.”
You and me.
No sweeter words have ever been spoken. Although, if things continue down this road, I may be hearing the word “partner” said soon.
“You know, we are going to need a story about how we met.”
He grins and shakes his head. “No, we don’t. What I said at the party was true. You blew me away in the courtroom and caught my attention. We just won’t mention the way you blow me away in the bedroom, too.”
“So, you’re done with The Meat Market for good?”
He shakes his head, and my heart sinks a little. “No, what if we need some filet mignon?”
THE END…FOR NOW.
CHAPTER ONE
MARNIE
I STEP INTO MY FOYER; the blast of arctic air greets me, sending goose bumps down my arms, counteracting the blistering heat of California. Exhausted from the day, with a headache brewing from the demands of working for an up-and-coming fashion magazine, ideas fly through my mind for the next issue. To top it off, my toes are cramping from the stilettos I’ve been running around in all day. The only thing I want is a warm meal, a glass of wine, and a foot rub from the love of my life.
“Hello, Tyler…Babe, you home?” I call out, but get no answer. I kick my heels off and lean down to rub the ache in the balls of my feet. I close my eyes and moan with relief. The house is quiet. Usually, if Tyler comes home before me, there would be music playing, but nothing. I search the living room and find the gift from me to him with the balloons floating above it. I giggle as I read the messages on the Mylar ones— “I love you” and “Happy Anniversary.”
I can’t believe it’s been two years since we said, “I do,” and each day, it keeps getting better and better. Tonight, I’m going to see how he feels about adding to our little family. The thought of having a child with Tyler sends butterflies of excitement fluttering in my belly.
I bite my lower lip to contain the smile and smooth my hand down my deep blue dress that hugs my curves just right. My hair cascades over my shoulders when I remove the bobby pins that have held it in a tight chignon all day. When I shake it out, the violet streaks woven through the amber locks flash before my face. I turn and make my way toward the kitchen, expecting the scent of herbs and spices of the pork roast I placed in the crockpot this morning to be filling the house, but I don’t smell anything. “Shit,” I mumble to myself. “Did I forget to turn on the crockpot?” Tyler loves the way I make the pork; he’ll be disappointed if I absentmindedly forgot to turn it on.
I quickly pad across the kitchen to check the crockpot and stumble to a halt. The crockpot and all its contents are splashed all over the floor. “What the hell happened here?” I hop over the spill and grab the paper towels to clean up the mess. As I bend over, I hear it.
A light feminine giggle, followed by a masculine groan, echoing from our bedroom. I freeze in place; my stomach begins to roil as the sounds become louder. I walk out of the kitchen, leaving the mess there. I slowly stalk down the hallway, passing a sock and a pump. I find panties flung and hanging from the bathroom doorknob. Hot tears blur my vision when I see more articles of clothing are strewn about and none of them belong to me. But all of them lead to my bedroom.
“Tyler, God, that feels good. Fuck! Right there.” A hand flies to my mouth and the other to my stomach as bile hits the back of my throat. I know who that female voice belongs to.
“You like it rougher, don’t you?” Tyler grunts. I squeeze my eyes shut. Tears flow down my cheeks, and I lean against the wall. What do I do? Do I quietly leave and pretend I don’t know anything? Do I barge in and confront my cheating husband and whore of a best friend, or do I make them dinner?
Shaking my head at the absurd idea of offering them dinner, I make a quick decision. I race to the den, whirl around the desk, and fumble trying to yank open the bottom drawer to retrieve a large plastic box.
The moaning and groaning intensify, and the headboard starts to bang against the wall. My head now throbs in rhythm of their fucking. My fingers numbly rotate the number lock, and with a pop, I fling open the case and grab my Colt .45. I check the chamber; the glint of a bullet spurs me into action.
A steely resolve straightens my back. On silent feet, I move across the tiled floor of my kitchen and the wooden floor of the hallway. I let my hips sway with determination. I slow as I reach my door. The banging and moans escalate while I wait for the right time.
“Fuck yes, I’m coming, Tyler,” Tera, my ex-best-friend whore, cries at the top of her lungs. A second later, Tyler starts his long moan and panting, giving me my cue.
I kick open the door. It bangs against the wall with a loud crash. My aim is square, right at the cheating asshole of my soon-to-be ex-husband.
“What the fuck?” he squeals, vaulting off the whore and landing on the side of the bed, tangling himself in blankets while his tiny dick shrivels up. Tera screeches and hands fly, trying to cover her plastic tits and bedazzled vagina. Both of their eyes zero in on the barrel of my gun.
Tyler’s the first to speak, “Marnie, what are you doing?” He holds his hands out in front of him. I stare at him. Has he lost his mind? What does it look like I’m doing? Thankfully, Tera’s screeching has calmed down to pitiful whimpering.
A smile slowly splits my face. “Well, dear husband of mine, I’m debating making you a woman or how fun it would be to see if Tera’s fake tits explode with a bullet.”
I gently pick up a picture of our wedding day and hold it close to me. It was taken right after we said, “I do” and before our first kiss as husband and wife. I stare at the stranger who is looking adoringly into my eyes just after he promised to love, honor, and protect me until death. He was so good-looking in his black tux. His onyx hair, which normally would have been unruly and obscure his warm coffee eyes, was slicked back, because I asked him to; I wanted to see his reaction as I walked down the aisle in my dress.
I searched far and wide for the perfect wedding dress and contacted famed designers for sketches and fittings, but none of them were close to what I wanted. They wanted over-the-top, poufy, with bows and flowers everywhere. It wasn’t me; I wanted simple and elegant. Then one day, I was shopping in an antique store with Tera—before she turned she-whore on me—and I found it. It was perfect—the simple, long-sleeve, v-back gown had beautiful lace and beading flowing down the back and into a small train. And despite its age, the beading was still intact, and the lace hadn’t yellowed with time. Once I tried it on, I knew it was the one. It was made for me, with the perfect fit that made
my small bust stand out.
When I walked down that aisle in my vintage dress, I saw lust mixed with love in Tyler’s brown eyes. The closer I got to him, tears welled, and it was all I could do to not ruin my professionally done makeup.
I shake my head and return to the present. I stare again at the picture, and the love that once filled my heart is replaced with burning rage. I slam the photo into the garbage, glass shattering everywhere. In a fury, I yank the rest of the frames of us off the wall and smash them into the garbage until all that’s left is my heaving chest and glass on the floor. I let out a sigh, glancing at the faded spots on the walls of where the images of my life use to be—images of a seemingly happy couple starting their happily ever after. I squeeze my eyes closed, letting the fat tears roll down my cheeks as the aching emptiness fills my chest.
That was all I wanted—a happily ever after—and I thought I had that with Tyler. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything I’ve ever known was a lie, from the gold on my left hand to the man who placed it there. He used my naiveté to his best advantage. He wormed his way into my life, my bed, and into my hard-earned livelihood.
It all changed in a blink of an eye, so quick that my brain still hasn’t fully processed it. In a span of one month, I went from having everything to everything just fitting in a suitcase.
The divorce resolved in only four weeks since I agreed to all of Tyler’s demands so he wouldn’t press charges for me holding the gun to them. I guess I should be happy he didn’t involve the police, otherwise, I would be sitting pretty in a jail cell. I gave him everything—the townhouse, which he sold, and the BMW, which Tera now has the pleasure of driving. Worst of all…I gave him my heart.
Footsteps echo in the room, signaling my sister Ashley’s arrival. “Marn…what the?” she asks when she finds me sitting in the middle of what used to be our living room.
She settles next to me and wraps her arms around me. “Shh, it’s okay. This is a fresh start without him.” I melt into her embrace and let the tears, anger, and fear of the unknown fall. Ashley gently pulls away. I keep my gaze down. “You ready to go?” She swipes a tear from my cheek.
I glance up to see the mirrored hurt in her green eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“Baby girl, I wish you did,” she murmurs, placing a kiss in my hair. Ashley has always been a bit over-protective of me. Our parents suffered two miscarriages after Ashley was born and thought they were done having children. Well, they were wrong. I came along ten years later. I was their “oops” baby, but they loved me just the same.
Ashley climbs to her feet and moves in front of where I’m still sitting, then she holds her hands out for me. I grasp them with mine, and she pulls me up to stand. Looking around again, the despair settles deeper into my soul.
Ashley smirks. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Just think, it’ll be like old times. We can play hair dresser, do late night pedicures, and old movie marathons.”
A small smile breaks free, despite my sour mood. “I feel this is more for the in-house babysitter you’re getting.”
“Well, there is that. Jake and I haven’t been out on a date since J.J. was born. So…yeah, we may be taking advantage of having you stay with us.”
I let out my first decent laugh. “I knew it! You’re lucky I love that little turd.”
She smiles back at me. “I’ve missed that laugh, and you’re right, he is a little turd, but goddammit, he’s so cute, just like his daddy.” She heads over to the doorway, picks up a basket full of my clothes, and leaves to take it to her car.
I stand by myself, allowing the hollowed sadness to take over. I almost had what Ashley has—a loving husband who thinks the sun rises and sets with her, and a beautiful little son, a product of their love. It was so close, just within reach. Now, I have nothing. I’m empty, just like this room.
Ashley stomps back in. “Let’s go!” she growls at me as she grabs my arm and tugs me outside. The harsh sun burns my teary eyes and flames my tear-soaked cheeks. She stops when we reach the passenger door of her SUV. “Hold on, for a second.” She marches up the cement stairs, grabs the door, and slams it hard enough to echo for miles. When she whips around, a wide smile splits her face.
“Proud of yourself?”
“That, girl, was me closing the door on your old life. Now, you have fresh start.”
CHAPTER TWO
ZAYNE
I ROLL OFF MY LATEST conquest. Sweat drips down my forehead, soaking into my hair. I turn to look at the woman—a curvaceous red head, with a dirty mouth and even dirtier mind. I zero in on her face. Her eyes are still closed…what’s her name? It starts with an “L.” Maybe Leah? Lily? Leann? Yes, that’s it.
The disgust I feel for not remembering her name, doesn’t even compare to the detachment growing inside. I get up from the bed, unabashed by my nudity, and quietly walk to the bathroom and shut the door.
Inside, I grasp the condom. “Ow, ow, son of a bitch.” I howl and jump on the balls of my feet as the condom snaps off from my flaccid cock. I wrap it in tissue and discard it before I move to the mirror. Russet red hair spiked every which way and tired blue eyes stare back. I rub my day-old stubble; it’s time for a shave. The scent of the sleeping woman ascends into my nose, causing nausea to build. After quickly turning on the faucet to the hottest setting I can tolerate, I reach for the soap in the shower stall and furiously scrub my face. I scour every inch until it’s angry red and the smell is gone. Again, I return my eyes to my reflection, and sadly, I don’t recognize the person staring back.
A knock startles me, and I glance to the door. Shit, Leann is awake.
I groan, “Yeah, just a minute.” I grab my toothbrush and Colgate and scrub my teeth, probably harder than is needed, but the obsessive need to cleanse myself is in control of my limbs. I lean over the sink and spit the tooth paste and grime from my actions. The minty taste abates the foul taste on my tongue.
“Hurry up, Z. I need to feel you inside of me again. I’ll pay double for it,” she purrs. I quickly cough into my fist, suppressing the gagging. My heart races, and my palms sweat. A ghosting of her face shimmers in my mind, calming my nerves and yet deepening the shame inside. I take a deep breath, exit the bathroom, and immediately crash into Leann.
She runs her hands up my chest and entwines her fingers into my hair. I stiffen as she scratches the back of my neck. I unhook her claws and place her hands at her sides.
“Sorry, babe, time’s up.” I gently push her out of my way, avoiding her narrowed eyes. I walk over to the desk and phone my driver. It rings twice before Frank answers.
“Mr. Thompson, what can I do for you?” Frank offers his services in a jovial tone.
“I need the car to return my guest to the drop-off site.”
“Yes, sir.” Frank hangs up. I should pay the man more. He’s ex-military and an asset to my team. He’s always at my beck and call and never questions my orders.
Leann huffs and puffs behind me, but I don’t spare her a look. I glance up to the clock and see I have two hours before my meeting with the board of directors. I need to shower, but I’m not happy about putting on my dirty boxers and tux from last night. Speaking of which…where are my boxers? I glance around the room and spot them next to the couch. I run over and grab them.
“Z,” Leann yells while stomping her foot. “Aren’t you listening to me at all? I said I would pay double.”
I turn to the angry woman, my boxers in my hands. “Sweetie, begging is never attractive.” I take a moment to glory in the “O” her mouth forms.
I gather up her dress and stalk over to the still-stunned, naked woman. I hold out her belongings and wait for her take them from me.
Finally, her mouth starts moving as she hastily yanks on her clothes, “I have never been this insulted in my life, especially from a man-whore.”
I continue to stare at the harpy, who is still flinging insults at me. “Small dick…” “Worst sex of my life.” I roll my eyes at her and move ar
ound her to get to the bathroom.
“I expect to see you gone by the time I get out of the shower,” I command her, and a hint of lust flutters across her eyes. “And no, you can’t join me.” I slam the door in her enraged face.
A few seconds later, a door slams outside, and I crank on the hot water. Breathing a sigh of relief knowing she’s gone, I step into the spray. “Ow, shit, that’s hot.” I yelp as the scalding-like-lava water beats down my stomach. Hopping from foot to foot, I quickly reach out and adjust the handle to a more tolerable temperature.
I bend my head into the rushing water, letting it soak my hair and run down my back. Resting my forehead on the cool tile allows the spray to hit the tired muscles of my lower back. Defeat seeps in as I realize I can’t keep doing this anymore. It took visualizing every dirty porn I’ve ever viewed and every Playboy magazine I have seen to obtain and sustain an erection.
“Fuck,” I whisper, lifting my head into the spray. I’m a thirty-year-old successful man, and I can’t keep a boner to save my life. I finish with my shower rather quickly and dry off. After wrapping the towel low around my waist, I head to the bed.
I sit at the edge, elbows on my thighs, head resting in my hands, and my thoughts drift back to my thirtieth birthday, or what I can remember of it. All I can see is that picture of Marnie and me. Her look of adoration toward me causes acid to fill the back of my throat. Shame weighs heavily on my already tense shoulders, ‘cause I know Marnie would hate me if she knew me now. That kills me more than anything.
Knowing I can’t do anything about my problem, I get up and change back into my tux. When I’m ready, I open the door, turn around, and survey the room, making sure everything is in proper order, before I step out and shut the door behind me.
Pressing the accelerator, pushing the Audi to the max, I open the sunroof to let the wind blow. The roar of the engine soothes me and clears my mind of unwanted thoughts. The flashing lights of the city and the interstate passing have a hypnotic effect on me. Before I even realize it, I’m pulling into my townhouse in Lincoln Park.