Shattered

by Jaci J

  They’re beautiful pitbulls.

  “What are you doin’ out here?” I ask him, falling onto his lap when he hooks and arm around my waist, pulling me to him.

  “Worrying about you in there, worrying about me.”

  Laughing softly, I shake my head. “Oh yeah?” He shouldn’t worry about me, because I worry enough for the both of us.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why are you worried?” That question opens Pandora’s box. I’m not sure I want to hear what he has to say.

  “Every-fucking-thing.”

  “Like?”

  “I know your dad left when you were young, left your mom for a younger woman. Know your mom lives halfway across the country with her trust fund husband and the two of you aren’t close. Moved around a lot until your mom married Mike. Good grades. Smart girl. Used to own a dance studio in your hometown until you followed your boyfriend out here, and here you are, alone, with me,” Cruz growls, slipping a hand under the sheet, grazing the underside of my tit. “Worried I’ll fuck you up more than you already are.”

  “I’m not fucked up,” I protest, but he’s right.

  “Angel, you wouldn’t be here with me if you weren’t.”

  My heart starts beating faster at his words, listening to him tell me a summary of my life, a life I’ve told him nothing about.

  He knows everything. My entire sad life summed up into a neat little package.

  “Your heart’s beating fast, baby.”

  “How do you know all that?” I ask him, finding comfort in his arms, but worry in his words.

  He scares me.

  “I told you, Angel, I’m a bad guy.”

  “How bad?” I whisper, my eyes closing when he cups my tit, his thumb grazing my nipple.

  He feels good. Too good.

  “Bad enough that I just had some of my guys dig into your background.”

  “Can’t be too careful, I could be a serial killer,” I mumble, my breath hitching when his other hand slips under the sheet and pushes my thighs apart, a finger slipping inside my wet pussy.

  “Put your legs over mine,” he commands, sitting farther back in his chair and taking me with him.

  And I do. I drape my legs over his, giving him the perfect angle, my legs wide open for him.

  On his lap, my back pressed against his front, I let him finger me on the porch, feeling no shame or embarrassment about it.

  His thick fingers push into me, stretching me, making me feel full as he circles and pumps, hard and fast. The heel of his hand rubbing my clit makes my eyes roll and my legs shake.

  “You trust me, Angel?” he growls against my ear.

  More than I should.

  “Do you trust me?” I moan, letting the sheet fall open, exposing every inch of my skin to the cold night air.

  “With my fucking life,” he declares, kissing my shoulder.

  I trust Cruz, even when I know I shouldn’t.

  All my life, I’ve done everything right. I went to school every day. I studied hard and got good grades. Never partied and hung out. I followed my mom around, giving in to her every wild whim and crazy relationship, smiling and going along with it like a good daughter, and every time it blew up in my face, in our faces, I kept smiling. I smiled when I met Bryce and he told me he’d take care of me, give me stability and a home. I followed him here, across the country, smiling the entire time, even when I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. And I stayed here when work took him back across the country. I stayed and waited because he asked me to, because I was doing it for us.

  I’m done doing shit for everyone else.

  Cruz is for me.

  He might be bad for me. He might break me. Ruin me. But this time, this is for me.

  Cruz works my body, his fingers deep inside of me and the other hand squeezing my tit. I let him because I trust him, even with my life.

  “Come for me, baby,” he growls, the scruff on his face scraping my shoulder as he sinks his teeth into my skin.

  I can feel my orgasm winding its way up my body. Cold and hot. Electric. Sharp. Powerful.

  My pussy squeezes, milking his fingers as I come hard, moaning out his name.

  “Shit.”

  “Jesus, Mia.” Grabbing my jaw, he twists my head around and kisses me roughly.

  Breathing hard as I come down, I sink into him, letting him hold me as he grabs the sheet and covers me back up.

  Blowing out a breath, I shiver. “I owe you,” I laugh, wiggling against his hard cock.

  “You don’t owe me shit. Ever.”

  “Cruz—” I start to protest, but he stops me, kissing me again.

  “Never. That’s not how this works. No this for that shit. Anything I do for you, I do it because I want to.”

  I let his words sink in. Penetrate. “Okay.”

  Cruz kisses me again, standing up. “Good. Let’s go to bed.”

  Cruz

  I wake alone. I’m not fucking happy about it.

  Mia’s side of the bed is cold, the sheet thrown back and her bra and panties not on the floor where I tossed them last night.

  Grabbing my cell from the nightstand, I look at the time. Seven in the goddamn morning.

  Too fucking early to be awake.

  I don’t know where she is, but there’s not a chance in hell I can go back to sleep without finding her and putting her ass back in the bed with me.

  It’s been a couple days since we’ve been here, and I already need her next to me to sleep. I’m becoming dependent.

  Walking down the hall toward the living room, I stop and head into the kitchen instead when I hear music, and something that sounds a fuck of a lot like a drill coming from inside.

  What the hell?

  At the counter is Mia, swaying to the beat of some song I’ve never heard before.

  She’s mixing something.

  Where the fuck did she find a mixer?

  “Angel?”

  She jumps, laughing softly. “You scared me.” Both dogs look up, grunting, before putting their heads back down and falling back to sleep.

  She’s so into her music that she didn’t hear me.

  “The fuck you doin?” I walk around the island to see what the hell she’s up to.

  “Making a cake.”

  “Makin’ a cake?” At seven in the fucking morning?

  “Yeah,” she giggles.

  “That a sexual thing?” I smirk, watching her whisk away at her cake and the way her tits jiggle as she does. “Makin’ a cake?”

  “You’re dirty.”

  Kissing her shoulder, I laugh myself. “Guilty.”

  I watch her dump the batter into two round pans and slide them into the oven. Not real fucking sure where they came from either, but if I had to guess, it was Jagger’s ex-wife. The bitch helped buy shit for the place or it was here when I bought it. Either way, it’s not shit I use.

  “Did I wake you up?” she asks, setting the timer and looking back at me.

  Frowning, I sit my ass down at the island and watch her. “You not in my bed woke me up.”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Why?” After last night, I figured I would have fucked her ass to sleep. Obviously, I’m not doing my job well enough if she’s waking up this damn early and has enough energy to make a fucking cake.

  “I couldn’t quit thinking about Bryce.”

  Ouch. That shit doesn’t make me happy.

  “The fuck, Mia?” Her thinking about another guy while in my bed makes me see red.

  She rolls her eyes. “Not what I meant. I just felt guilty. He sent me a message this morning.”

  “And?”

  She slides me her cell.

  Just checking in. I miss you. Please call me soon so we can talk.

  That motherfucker doesn’t miss her. He’s too goddamn busy putting his tiny prick into his boss’s pussy to even think about her, or to think about another man coming inside of his woman.

  My woman.

  He’s
one stupid motherfucker to leave a woman like Mia.

  “Tell him you’ve got a new man.”

  She frowns. “Just like that? Just, ‘Hey, Bryce, I’ve got a new man?’”

  “Sure. And then let him know how good the dick is.”

  Mia rolls her eyes, waving me off with a flick of her hand. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “Are you always like this?”

  “You wanna stop fucking me and go back to him?” I walk over and cage her back against the counter, getting in her personal space.

  “Well, no.”

  “Then tell that motherfucker to kick rocks.”

  “This doesn’t bother you?” she asks, motioning between us. “Me cheating?”

  “No.”

  She gives me disapproving look. “No?”

  When it’s right, it’s right, and a lot of shit in my life isn’t right, but Mia in it is. “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

  “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” she mutters, pulling open the oven door and looking inside.

  “A hot ass guy walks in here, naked, and wants to fuck you. You gonna do it?” I ask, crossing my arms.

  She snorts. “No.”

  “Then that shit isn’t true.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “I do know.”

  “Agree to disagree?”

  “Not a chance in hell. I’m right.”

  “I just feel guilty, okay? I know our relationship wasn’t perfect, and it’s been slowly coming to an end anyway, but I haven’t officially broken up with him and I still slept with you.”

  “And you’re gonna keep sleeping with me, sometimes with my cock inside of you.”

  She frowns. “You’re crude.”

  “I know. You gonna tell me I’m wrong, though?” I challenge.

  “No.”

  “Good. Tell him, don’t tell him, I don’t care. Because, Angel, you’re mine.”

  Mia laughs, walking out of the kitchen and into the living, done with this conversation. “Netflix and cake?” she calls out, taking up residence on my couch.

  “I don’t Netflix with cheaters,” I tease, sitting on the couch next to her and snatching the remote from her hand.

  “Cruz,” she gasps, eyes wide. “A cheater? Really?”

  Now she’s annoyed.

  “Hey, baby, you fuckin’ said it.”

  “You gonna get that?” she grumbles, eyeing my phone when it starts to ring, cutting into our little conversation.

  Wasn’t going to answer it, but when it starts ringing again, I have no damn choice.

  Shit.

  Mia

  Sitting on the couch, eating cake out of the pan, I watch Cruz walk back into the house, shoving his phone into his pocket. He’s wearing sweats slung low on his hips, his chest and stomach on full display.

  He’s tasty.

  Delicious.

  Better than this cake, that’s for damn sure, and this cake is pretty good.

  “Cake out of the pan, huh?” he asks, eyebrows pitched. “Half naked and eating cake on the couch. You’re livin’ the life.”

  That makes me smile, because he’s not wrong. In fact, over the last few days, I’ve felt happier and more comfortable than I have in a long time, longer than I care to think about.

  “Want me to put pants on?” I tease, taking a bite of my vanilla cake. It’s box cake, but I dressed it up.

  “You put that shit on, I’m just gonna tear it off.”

  “Really?” I lick the frosting off my lips. “Like, tear it off with your hands or your teeth?”

  “You have a preference?”

  “Hands.” Definitely his hands.

  He gives me a devilish smirk. “Oh yeah?” He rubs his hands together.

  The man is trouble, so much fucking trouble. If I don’t stop now, I’ll end up losing my panties and my heart.

  “And...I want to know about you,” I inform him, changing the subject completely. I smile, proud of myself for not giving into his big hands and the magic they produce.

  He looks a little disappointed.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you own that garage you walked out of that night?”

  He nods. “I do. I don’t do as much as I used to at the moment with other shit going on, but we fix up cars and shit.”

  “How long have you owned it?”

  “Long time.”

  My mind starts to work on overdrive, producing more questions. “When is your birthday?”

  “September thirteenth,” he tells me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You got more questions, Angel?”

  “I’ve got a lot.”

  “I thought we were Netflix and chillin’?” He quirks his brow, looking amused as he sits down next to me and slips his finger under the band of my panties, snapping it.

  “We are.” I know what he means.

  “I’m watching you sit your sexy fucking ass on my couch, damn near naked, while eating cake of out pan and watching some bullshit movie I don’t give a shit about.”

  I feign offense. “You don’t care about my movie?”

  I don’t care about my movie.

  “Fuck no, I don’t care about your movie.”

  “Then what do you care about?”

  It’s a loaded question, a question that asks more than my words do.

  “I care about you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I quip.

  Cruz sits up and turns toward me. Grabbing the pan from my hands, he tosses it onto the coffee table and goes for my hips, pulling on them and putting me on my back on the couch below him.

  “Yeah. I don’t give a fuck about anything else,” he growls, his eyes devouring me.

  He watches as he pulls the cups of my bra down, exposing my tits to his gaze.

  “Really?” I sigh, writhing under his stare.

  His tongue traces my nipple, his warm breath on my skin. “Really.”

  “Why?”

  His body on mine, the weight of him—it makes me crazy.

  “Why the fuck not? You’re fucking perfect, Angel.”

  “I don’t know about perfect.”

  I may be a lot of things, but perfect isn’t one of them. But in his eyes and his touch, I feel pretty fucking close to it.

  “Let me fucking show you.” He pulls my panties down my legs.

  And I let him. I let him show me. Let him slide his big cock inside of me and worship every inch of me, and then I let him do it again, two hours later, so fucking into him I can’t help myself.

  Cruz

  Jagger, Titus, Zane, and Ryker stand in my kitchen, all of us looking at the screen of Ryker’s computer.

  “The fuck is this shit?” I ask, looking at him. A grainy image of the back of the shop is all I can see. It’s black and white, and looks like shit.

  Titus rolls his damn eyes at me. He’s lucky we’re like family or I’d knock his ass out. “Jesus, man, give it a damn second.”

  “One of the things I lack is patience. You know this shit, man.”

  Jagger chuckles. “We fuckin’ know, boss man.”

  I watch the bar at the bottom of the screen, the time ticking away until about eight something at night comes up. Then I see it.

  A person walking, alone.

  Fuck, it’s Mia.

  Seeing it again makes me just as fucking mad as it did the first time I saw her.

  I don’t know why I went out there, what it was that had me at the door before I even heard her scream for help, but I was there.

  There was something about her. Something I saw from all the goddamn way inside my shop. That something is still there, but it’s even stronger now that she’s mine.

  “We caught that shit on tape.”

  “Who was it?” I ask, knowing goddamn well what I’m looking at. I was there, I fucking remember. The night those motherfuckers tried to grab Mia and put a couple of bullets in me.

  I doubt I’ll forget it.

  I’ve be
en waiting for this shit. Revenge. It’s not a burning need, but it’s there, simmering. You don’t shoot me and live to tell about it, especially when Mia’s involved.

  “I don’t know, but I’ve got a couple guesses,” Zane scowls.

  “Wanna let me know those guesses?” I lean back against my kitchen counter, crossing my arms, waiting.

  Zane offers up his conclusion. “Local drug dealers. A little gang of shits.”

  “We’ll fuckin’ handle them,” Titus adds.

  I’ve known these guys all my life. We grew up together on the wrong side of town, on the other side of the tracks. The bad kids. Delinquents. Troublemakers. We’ve been causing hell since we could walk. I trust them with my life, with Mia’s life, but this shit, I’ll handle myself.

  “You find out who they are and I will handle it.”

  All five of us swing around when Mia walks into the room, Red and Rowdy on her heels.

  Fucking dogs.

  Jesus. My dick still wants a piece of her, even after spending hours inside of her.

  She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt, the thing hanging off her shoulder and down to the middle of her thighs, and that’s it.

  It’s not my shirt, but it fucking could be, except the word DANCE is scrawled across her tits. The shit looks good on her.

  She’s so goddamn gorgeous. Long dark hair, straight, flowing down her back. Big green eyes and long tanned legs. She’s got a fucking body on her—curvy and round in all the right places.

  And she’s mine.

  Mia looks at me, and then at everyone else, surprised to see us. “Hi,” she mumbles, a little shocked, but she shakes it off.

  “Ryker, Jagger, Zane, and Titus,” I introduce them, as much as I don’t want to.

  My friends are fucking assholes. She’s too good for them.

  Jagger grins. “So,” he says slyly, stepping toward her, “can we be friends?”

  Mia laughs, lifting a shoulder. “Sure.” She offers him her hand and he shakes it, looking like the cat that ate the motherfucking canary.

  “So, Mia...” he starts, but I put a stop to that shit real quick.

  “What’s up, Angel?” I cut in, getting between them.

  Mia laughs. “I was just coming in to get a drink and heard you all talking.”