by Andrea Joan
“Fuck you!” she screams at him.
“No, fuck you, you bitch!” he spits, actually fucking spits at her feet, and I fucking lose it. I run up and hit him so hard in the face that he lands with a sick thud on the ground. I’m about to go at him again when Skylar’s hand pulls my arm back.
“Liam, don’t!”
I don’t hit him again, but I also know I’m about to if we don’t leave right fucking now. “Let’s go, Skylar. In the car. Now.”
“We need to make sure he’s okay!”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Get in the fucking car or I will go back there and hit him again, I swear to god.” She looks back at him, almost like she might choose him over me, but then thinks better of it and gets into the car. We both slam our doors and I start the engine. I’m so fucking pissed that I feel like I can’t breathe. I can’t believe I actually stopped, though, that I didn’t black out and end him.
“You didn’t have to hit him, Liam.”
Is she serious? “Oh really? So you’re okay with him calling you a bitch and spitting on you? You think that’s how you deserve to be treated?”
“He was messed up.”
“Well, he’s definitely messed up now.”
She gets out her cellphone and starts furiously texting away. Curiosity gets the better of me. “Who the hell are you texting?”
“Noah. I need to make sure Cass gets home okay.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
She snaps at me. “What is your deal? He’s a friend. I care about him and you hit him, not to mention he’s high on god knows what.”
“You care about him? How could you care about someone that treats you like that, Skylar? You are so fucking infuriating sometimes.” I so badly want to lose my shit right now.
“Excuse me?”
“You fucking heard me.”
“Care to elaborate on that?” She’s talking to me like I’m an idiot and I won’t placate her.
“Nope,” I snap. And those are the last words we speak to each other until we get home, the tension and silence growing so thick it begins to choke us until it’s almost impossible to be in this car. I know it’s the same for her because the second the car is parked she is out the fucking door. If she thinks I’m going to just let this go she is so very fucking wrong.
“SKYLAR, GET THE HELL back here!”
Despite the rather loud sound of blood rushing through my ears and the fact that Liam is still in the car, I can hear him cursing and slamming his hand against something. But I don’t care. And I don’t stop walking, making my way through the garage and into the house, stomping my way up to my room. I’m pissed at Liam, pissed at myself; I’m feeling violent and lost all at the same time. I don’t feel like me at all and that thought makes me scared. Scared and angry is what has me slamming my bedroom door and locking it because I know Liam is on his way up to have it out with me and right now I want nothing to do with him. Right as I start taking off my heels I hear his heavy footsteps on the staircase and I know he is just as pissed at me. The doorknob rattles as he tries to open it.
Good luck, asshat.
“Unlock the fucking door right the fuck now, Skylar. I mean it.”
“Go to hell!” I yell, throwing my shoe into the corner of my room. One resolute pound on my door follows and I just roll my eyes.
“You open this goddamn door or I swear I’ll kick it the fuck down. We’re not done talking,” he says, not loud, but deadly calm.
The obstinate, angry side of me wants to leave him outside my room and dare him to break down my door. But I know he won’t hesitate to do it and I like my door on its hinges, intact. I am also strangely aching for this fight to happen. Some sick part of me wants to argue with him. To loathe him and lust after him all at the same time because I know when he gets this way it’s all I can focus on, and I need my anchor.
So I flip the lock.
I step back.
And I wait for my torturous salvation.
The door opens slowly, not fast and hard like I imagined it would, and the predatory look in his eyes has me backing up in small steps. He looks down at my chest almost like he can see my heart beating out of it and then glares, no burns, his gaze straight through my eyes and to my soul. He is daring me to talk first, so I do because I’m not in the mood for games. I want him to either fuck me or fight with me and he better make that decision fast.
“You have a problem, Liam?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me silently as if deciding how to handle me. Suddenly he kicks the door closed, never once taking his eyes off of me.
“No. Right now you are the one with a fucking problem, or should I say problems?” His voice is deceptively low, almost a growl, as he slowly begins to remove his jacket. When he tosses it on the ground I swear I see my previous confidence fall right to the floor with it.
“You know what? You’re right,” I sneer. “You seem to be a big problem for me tonight.”
“I won’t argue with you there, sweetheart. I’m about to be a big fucking problem for you. But let’s go through the list, shall we?”
“What’s the point? You don’t listen to me anyway. In fact, why don’t we just cut to how this ends, sweetheart?” I turn away, make my way to the bed, and bend over the foot, placing both my hands on the mattress. The back of my dress hikes up, just a small amount, enough that I can feel a cool breeze against the back of my thighs. When I look back and meet his eyes, I can’t help but smirk. His pupils dilate as he takes in my posture and his tongue grazes his full bottom lip. I have him. In this moment, I own him. “Isn’t this what you want, to fuck me into submission? To use my body’s need for you against me until I just agree to whatever you want? Well, go for it, Liam. You don’t even have to prep me. I’m already incredibly wet for you.”
I have no idea where any of this is coming from. I’m typically not the aggressor. The words and actions feel so foreign, almost wrong, like I’m not myself, which I know makes no sense because I’m the one speaking, provoking, wanting. A part of me likes this side of me, the other part fears and despises it. Just like before in the car.
A deep growl comes from him. He looks pissed. Downright lethal, and I’m not sure why, but this turns me on even more. My adrenaline spikes and it’s as if every obscure, foreign feeling and all the darkness that has crept through me over the last few days is halted. It ceases to infect my mind because the only thing I can focus on is Liam and what he plans to do with me, how good he will make my body feel, and how he will punish me to the point of blissful pleasure.
“Stand up,” he commands while unbuttoning his shirt. I don’t argue or question, I just stand and obey. “Turn around.” I turn.
Even the scars on his perfectly sculpted body seem to glow red, as if his anger is reflecting through his skin, and if it weren’t for the growing bulge in his pants, the one that has my lips lifting in the smallest of smiles, I would worry that I made a mistake challenging him.
“You find something funny about this, Skylar?” I say nothing. “I must say, I thought I’d have to shove something in your mouth to finally keep you quiet tonight. Why don’t you make this easier for the both of us and get on your knees?”
That condescending comment snaps me right to attention. “You want easy, maybe you should have just gone home with Amber.” The second that comment leaves my mouth, I regret it.
“Fuck Amber. I don’t give two shits about her. And fuck you for even throwing that in my face. I won’t play these games with you, Skylar. Now. Kneel,” he demands as he whips his belt loose.
Again I say nothing, but I kneel. The wood from the floor is uncomfortable, but I welcome the bite. My chest rises and falls so quickly, heavy with anticipation, and I accept the burn in my lungs from my own harsh breathing. Liam is standing in front of me now, towering above me as if I’m meant to worship him, the belt dangling menacingly from his left hand.
“Of all the things you’ve done wrong tonight, Sky, you know what the
worst one is?” He crouches down on the floor so that he is eye level with me and I can’t help but be drawn into the storm brewing in his tortured gray eyes. His arms move above my head and drop, effectively draping the belt around my neck. “It wasn’t that fucking car you bought for me, or this sad excuse of a dress, or the fact that you flirted with every guy that looked your way,” he loops the end of the belt through the buckle and begins to tighten it slowly, methodically, to the point where I can feel the leather surrounding the delicate skin of my neck. “It wasn’t even when you ran off to the garage with Logue.”
“I didn’t run off—”
“Shut up.” The belt tightens along the back of my neck as he uses it to draw me up so that I’m standing. “Your biggest mistake tonight was not trusting me. Not trusting me like you’ve claimed, like you’ve promised me you would.”
I have no chance to say anything, to ask what he means, because he turns me around and my arms shoot out to brace myself above the bed. The belt around my neck tightens with the brash movement. The warmth of his body surrounds me and I can feel his hard cock pressing into my ass. His lips linger on my ear, his breath against my skin causing me to shiver. His rough fingertips skim down my spine before he reaches the scoop of my dress right above my ass. His calloused skin scrapes slightly against me right before he tears the flimsy lace fabric away, and I can’t hide the whimper that escapes my lips. Or my involuntary grinding against his dick. The harsh slap against my ass turns my whimper into a moan.
“Stop, Skylar. Stay the fuck still.” The belt closes in around my neck; why I haven’t even questioned it, I have no idea. Probably because I’m too excited at the prospect of being choked while he fucks me. “I hate this fucking dress,” he growls right before I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper. Grasping the sheets and practically gasping, I’m ready to burn the ten-thousand-dollar dress and beg forgiveness if it means he will pardon me with his cock. When I feel the head of his dick at my entrance, I’m expecting to be teased, tortured, eased into it. Instead, he slams right into me, and like a wanton slut I come easily.
“Shit. Fuck.” Each curse is punctuated with another thrust. “You came already, didn’t you, baby?”
When I don’t answer, he pulls out and slams back into me, then his free hand slaps my ass. “Answer me or I stop.”
“Y-yes, I came.” I drop my head to the mattress in defeat, bracing myself for the next orgasm that I know is not far behind. His hand grabs the belt, and I feel his knuckles scrape against the back of my neck. Then he pulls me up until my back is pressed against his chest.
“You’re wrong about one thing.” He slams into me again and the lack of air makes me light headed, almost euphoric. “I don’t want to fuck you into submission—submission is easy. Using your body’s need for me against you, even easier.” His hand slides down to my clit, fingers pressing hard until I come again.
“Oh god. Fuck! Liam!” I start to fall forward onto the bed again, but he uses the belt around my neck to keep me up.
“See, baby? Too easy. I’m not about easy. This is about admission.” Thrust. “Confession.” Thrust. “I’m going to fuck you until you tell me what the hell is going on with you.” He bites the lobe of my ear as he continues to pound into me, pinching my nipples, pulling the belt every time he thinks I’ve started to catch my breath. Right as I’m about to come again, he stops. Warm breath caresses my ear, but the question coming out of his mouth does the opposite.
“Why have you been acting differently these last few days?”
“I-I haven’t.” Have I? I don’t know. I’m different, but still me. He just doesn’t know this version of me yet.
“Skylar.” Rather than call me out for lying, he growls my name in warning. But I know his body so well by now that I can tell by his tightened muscles and stilted movements, his cock jerking inside me, that it’s taking everything in him not to come. And I don’t want to tell him. Not like this.
“Are you using?” What? He thinks I’m using drugs? When I fail to answer right away, his fingers find my clit again. “Fucking answer me,” he demands. I’m so focused on his cock inside of me, his fingers playing with me and the belt that continues to tighten, that I can’t. And this is one answer I can give him honestly. Liam’s head falls to my shoulder. “Please, Sky. Answer me.” He’s begging because he’s about to come.
“No, Liam. I swear I’m not using drugs,” I pant, and it seems to set him free. With one hand on my hip and one on the belt, he pushes into me, over and over, punishing me with his cock but worshipping me with his mouth. His lips press against my neck until he reaches my ear and licks. He releases his hold on the belt, wraps his fingers around my jaw, and tugs my mouth to his own.
The second his full lips hit my own he comes, taking me with him. There is something so tragically poetic about it all. Poetic because in this moment I feel his love for me, a love matching my own. Final because even though I told him one truth, I coupled it with a lie, and the moment I correct that mistake, this will be over.
“Holy shit.” Liam pulls out of me and then releases the belt, tossing it to the floor so I can actually collapse onto the bed, then he falls down next to me, both of us sweaty and breathless and completely sedated. His fingers lightly trace up my spine until they hit the base of my neck, then he begins to massage, and I sigh.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you, with the belt, I mean?”
“No. I kind of liked it actually. Is that weird?”
He chuckles, which seems like such a juxtaposition. “You’re asking me if it’s weird? I was the one that wrapped it around your neck. Hold on, let me get something to clean you up.” When he gets up I manage to crawl my way to the top of the bed. I remove the elastic band from my hair and rest my head on the pillow. I feel his weight on the mattress but I don’t open my eyes. I jump when the warm cloth wipes between my legs, but still I keep my eyes closed.
“Is that something you’ve always been into?” I ask.
“What’s that?”
“The bondage belt thing?”
“Bondage belt thing? Is that the technical term?” He laughs, pulling the covers out from under me and then throwing them over the both of us. When he pulls me into his naked chest, I relax instantly.
“Well, I don’t know what it’s called. Figured you would, seeing as it’s your thing.”
“I think the term is actually erotic asphyxiation, and it’s not my thing. I’ve actually never done it before tonight, and to be honest I shouldn’t have.” He starts to run his fingers through my hair and I melt. I want to tell him so badly that I love him, but the moment seems wrong, even if the sentiment is right.
“Why?”
“Because it’s something that takes some knowledge to practice safely, and I don’t have that. I just went on instinct. I felt like I was losing control with you, with me, with us. It’s been a five day build-up of twenty fucking questions that went unanswered because I couldn’t ask them. Between yesterday and tonight…I just fucking panicked. I thought I was losing you, and in my fucked-up mind, this was the only thing I could think of to keep you with me, even if it was just temporary.”
I stop breathing. It’s like he can read my soul, can sense exactly what I need. But he’s right about one thing—it can only work temporarily. But I do want to be clear about one thing.
“I’m not doing drugs, Liam. I swear to you, I don’t touch the—”
“Shhh. I believe you,” he whispers soothingly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But you get that I had to ask, right? I’ve been worried about you. You’ve barely been sleeping, and you’re way too fucking energetic for as little sleep as you’ve been getting. Seeing you at that fucking club tonight, around all those people, it just helped foster that idea. Fuck, I even asked Winter about it yesterday.”
“You asked Winter if I was using drugs?” I wonder why she didn’t tell me.
“Yeah. I was at a loss.”
“Well, you could have just asked me.�
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“I tried. Trust me. I just stopped myself every time because I think instinctively I knew it wasn’t the case. There’s something else I need to tell you. Jeff was at Vacancy tonight.”
I freeze, and my blood turns cold. “What?” It’s only when he squeezes me tighter that I realize I’m shaking.
“He was at the club. I saw him, confronted him, and he said he was there on another job. That he wasn’t there for you.”
“Do you believe him? Should I be worried?”
“I don’t know if I believe him,” he says, scrubbing his hand over his face. “He spouted off the same shit as before. That he’s not the one you need to be watching out for, but I found that hard to believe seeing as he just happened to be at the same place as you when he was saying it. I was going to ask the so-called client he was now working with to see if his story checked out, but when he told me he saw you leave with Logue, I got sidetracked.”
“I’m sorry, Liam, I had no idea. And I’m sorry about Cass. I should have handled that differently. it just didn’t occur to me that I was handling it wrong in the first place. I—“
“Listen, I get it okay? Kind of. Winter explained some shit to me yesterday. You grew up under different circumstances and that causes you to handle shit in a different way, and I’m going to try and be more empathetic to that.” He buries a hand in my hair and takes a deep breath. “But I’m not sure I can deal with Logue again Sky. I know you think he’s your friend or whatever, and you have some weird loyalty to him I don’t understand, but how he was with you tonight is unacceptable, not to mention he was clearly high as fuck and you shouldn’t be around that.”
Tears burn my eyes but I hold them back, I don’t want Liam to know I’m crying for Cass right now. “Cassiel and I have known each other since we were sixteen, Liam. It’s easy to relate to one another, because we’ve grown up in this business together. Cass has his issues. Just like I have mine, or you have yours. He’s not in a good place right now, I agree, and I’ll be cautious of that. But I-I can’t abandon him because of it. If he asks for my help, I won’t turn him away.”