Suit

by Jettie Woodruff

  Paxton kept my hand until we were in the hall. As soon as the door was closed I was thrown against the adjacent wall. My leg wrapped around his waist when his lips crashed with mine. I could tell we were sliding down the wall. Sort of. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure until the door opened.

  “Happy? I’m drunk,” I said while my fingers fumbled with my own button. Drunk sex in the bathroom while the girls watched a movie. Mother of the year award went to me and I didn’t care. I was drunk and horny. Extremely horny.

  I toed off my shoes and slid my jeans over my hips. Paxton kept me against the door and kissed me. Everywhere. His hands never even left my body. Not even when I bent to get my jeans from around my ankles. He grabbed a fistful of hair and removed his hard cock to my mouth. Only I turned my head. He tried to turn it back and I climbed up his body with soft kisses, moving up his chest.

  “No way, husband. You’re fucking me,” I said with direct orders. Right to his lips. I did stroke him in my hand, balls and all while I dove my tongue back to his mouth.

  Paxton spun me, slamming my hands hard against the door. His body molded with mine and I pressed my naked back into his chest. My heart beat in my ears as my body surrender to ecstasy. Paxton Pierce was my drug of choice. Pure, exotic, ecstasy.

  He kicked out on my good foot and I spread my legs more, giving him full access to whatever he wanted. Wherever he wanted it. The heated air stuck to my lungs when he slid his hardness through my slippery folds. Five seconds of that would have been all I needed.

  The grip on my hair tightened and hot words burned my ear. “Shut your fucking mouth. You don’t talk like that, and you don’t call the shots. You got it?”

  “No, stop,” I protested when he penetrated my ass. I squeezed the cheeks of my ass closed when he didn’t listen. “Paxton, no. I’m not doing that.”

  “You don’t decide that, but just for the record, I wasn’t going to go there. Not right now anyway.”

  “Will you just shut up and put it in me. The girls are right next door.”

  “Shut up, Gabriella. Just shut your fucking mouth. You don’t lead this. I do.” he said with gritty words, trumping my “shut up” with his own.

  I didn’t shut up. I moaned, pain mixing with pleasure. Paxton bent me at the waist a little and slid into me. Fast and hard.

  My hand landed on the patch of hair right above his glorious shaft. “Paxton, it hurts. I can’t do this yet.”

  He stopped and pulled out. I turned and watched him stroke his cock, glistening from my arousal. Jesus. God. He was sexy.

  “Walk to me, slut.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. “I don’t like that, Pax. I feel like you’re degrading me when you say stuff like that.”

  “Fuck this, Gabriella. I am. That’s exactly what I am doing. Stop with the whole fucking Pax thing. I’m sick of this shit. Enough already. Now walk your slut ass over here to me. Now.”

  “Fine. Where would you like me, master?”

  “That’s my good little slut. Can you put your weight on the counter? Will that hurt too much?”

  I walked to the counter with soft white towels and bent over, eyes staying on the pink roses in the corner of the top towel. I closed my eyes and swallowed away a sudden burn in my throat when he moved into me.

  “Does it matter?”

  Paxton slid in and out of me with his hands on my hips. “Of course it matters. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You just did,” I said in a quiet mundane tone.

  His hips stopped moving briefly and then he continued. I felt violated and hurt. My emotions were getting tangled in a web of something I didn’t want. Something my heart couldn’t take. I was wrong. The feelings I thought we shared between us were nothing more than a false fantasy. Paxton would never love me. Not like I wanted him to.

  The drunk desire to climax was replaced with something else to store away in my fucked-up brain. I’d get back to that later. Paxton fucked me rough from behind, grunting and driving into me fast. A couple times he pulled my hair back so I would look at him through the mirror. My eyes stayed on the satin rose. Down.

  He was quick about it. He gave it to me deep from behind and then spewed his poison on my back. I waited, still suffering some sort of brokenness, feeling his warm, sticky substance run down the crack of my ass. I still didn’t look at him, and I didn’t move a muscle when he pushed into the pucker in my ass. My eyes squeezed closed and he recanted.

  “You can go to bed. I’ll tend to the girls.” And just like that. Paxton was gone. I knew it wasn’t an offer. It was an order, but I didn’t care. I’d go to bed just to get away from him. Ten minutes before I would have drowned in his come. Now I just wanted it off me. I wanted him off me.

  I would love to say that it remained that way. That I was able to turn it off and stop living in a fantasy world. I couldn’t. Even when he treated me like a slut, I wanted him.

  Paxton didn’t punish me anymore that night, but he did make me cry. Of course, I never let him see that. I had just crawled into bed and turned off the lights, ready to put that day in the past. I debated on opening my tablet or not, unsure of adding any more fuel to the fire. Some of my poems ran deep and left me feeling lost and lonely.

  I turned my head toward his dark silhouette without a word. He didn’t speak, either. He moved in beside me and I rolled to my side. That’s when my soul gave way, betraying me for him. My back leaned into his chest and my eyes closed with his kiss to my head.

  “I’ve always called you a slut behind closed doors, Gabriella.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. And I let you.”

  “You did. It worked for us. For what we both needed. You have everything to suit your needs, and I have you. My slut, to suit mine.”

  I pondered his words with a deep breath. “I don’t know that I’m okay with that anymore, Paxton. I’m not that person anymore. I’m not Gabriella.” That part stung my chest like a bee. One quick stab, reminding me that it wasn’t a lie. To me anyway.

  “I’m not okay with it anymore. I’m not okay with these girls running around like chickens with their heads cut off for no reason. I’m not okay with eating fatty bacon and chicken from a bone. I’m not okay with any of this, Paxton. I’m not so sure we shouldn’t separate for a while. Work through things on our own for once,” I said. That’s when I swiped away a tear. Just in time.

  Paxton spun me to my back and placed his hand around my throat. That time was meant to be feared. I feared it. “Yeah? Where you gonna go, slut. You got money to live on? You think you’re ever going to see Rowan or Ophelia again? Go ahead and try it. Like I’ve told you a million times, I’ll kill you first. Do you understand me, Gabriella?”

  I nodded in agreement with a breath held in my lungs. The angered tone told me not to push anymore buttons. I could tell when to stop. Now was that time.

  Paxton smiled with a smirk and moved his fingers between my legs. I was a ghost that night. I bent over his lap like a good little slut and endured nine slaps to my ass. That was the most he’d ever given me at one time. Maybe it was because of my reaction. Maybe he didn’t expect my reaction to be so blah. I stiffened a little with every blow, but not once did I writhe my hips into his fingers. I wanted to. I wanted to shove my ass back, moan, and beg for more, but I didn’t.

  I didn’t even care that the sounds of my arousal were a dead giveaway. I wasn’t about to give him the time of day. Fuck him. I did everything I was told to do, moved in every pretzel position I was told, sucked his dick when I was told, and then swallowed him. Not once did I acknowledge that I was into any of it. I was a ghost.

  “Follow the rules tomorrow. I’ll have roast for supper,” Paxton said while shaking his softening dick on my lips.

  “Yes, sir,” I smartly replied. Not another word was spoken between us. I even lifted my ass to help with my chastity belt. I didn’t care about that either. I had zero desire to get off. That longing passed when I swallowed him. I knew it was my punishment fo
r being disobedient, but I didn’t care. I knew without a doubt that I would be disobeying the very next day. I wasn’t about to chase things to do with the girls. They had enough to do right there.

  I showered again, needing to wash him away, but it didn’t work. His scent coated my pillow, filling my nostrils with his aroma. I tossed the tainted pillow to the floor, but that didn’t help either. He still lingered there, in my mind and in my bed. I rolled to my side with a deep sigh, and closed my eyes, praying for peace. I wasn’t sure I would ever figure this man out, and truth be known, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to try anymore.

  ~~

  “I want to call my sister. It’s her birthday. Sherry said I could talk to her today,” I complained to Ms. Porter.

  She brushed me off with a wave of her hand. “Get the fuck out of my way. That bitch don’t care about you. People lie. People always lie. Now move the hell out the front of my television.”

  “I’m going to walk there,” I threatened with a stomp to the wooden floor.

  Ms. Porter laughed at me. “Go for it. Your pretty little ass won’t make it to the corner without getting fucked in an alley.”

  Even at the age of twelve I knew what that meant, and she was right. I wouldn’t walk past the school bus stop by myself. Had it not been for my neighbor, Falcon, I wouldn’t go there either.

  Falcon was five years older than me, but he didn’t go to school anymore. He’d dropped out at sixteen. He looked out for me. He knew that a dark little white girl shouldn’t be lurking around that neighborhood. Nobody should; especially a vulnerable twelve year old with nobody to report her missing. Falcon told me about men in shiny black cars, luring young girls away from the hood. Pretty young girls like me not easily missed.

  It was enough for me to ground myself inside the house. Sometimes I’d go out and sit on the stoop, but that’s as far as I went.

  I stomped out to the stoop and dropped to the top step.

  “Watcha doin’ out here,” Falcon said from the next porch. I looked left, toward the row of houses to his face. A thick strand of smoke lingered above his head. The pipe and the smell told me it wasn’t a cigarette.

  “It’s my birthday, and my sister’s birthday. They told me I could call her. They said I could talk to her,” I said with tears streaming down my face, sucking in hot Florida air. My heart hurt so much. I missed her so much, and there was nothing I could do.

  “Who tell you that?”

  “The social worker, and Ms. Porter. It’s almost four o’clock and I still didn’t get to talk to her?”

  “Today your birthday? How old you be?”

  “Twelve, and Gabby’s twelve, too.”

  “Gabby? What the fuck you talking about, girl?”

  Falcon hoped to the wobbling banister and to my side. That’s how close the houses were to each other. A hop and a jump.

  “I mean, Izzy. My sister is Izzy. Izabella. We’re twins.”

  “Where yo mama?”

  “She died from drugs. She fell off a fire escape.”

  “Why you not with yo sister?”

  “They wouldn’t let us. Nobody would take both of us. She’s in Michigan, but they said they’d let us talk. They don’t,” I said while more tears streamed down my face. I just wanted my sister. My other half. Nobody cared about us. Nobody cared how much we needed each other. I thought Falcon did. My kind black neighbor.

  “I can get you a phone call with her,” he said in a low tone.

  My heart beat out of my chest, and I straightened my posture, yelling with excitement. “You can?

  “Of course I can, but you gotta do something for me, too. You get your thing yet. The period thing. My bros say once a girl gets that, she a woman.”

  “Um, yeah, a couple months ago,” I replied with rosy red cheeks. Oh, my God. Why would he say something like that? I didn’t want to talk about blood coming out of my vag with him. Good Lord!

  Needless to say, I became the property of Falcon. I did things with him that I’m not proud of, and I never talked to my sister. He always promised he was getting closer every time he coaxed me into his room. Falcon controlled my life for three consecutive years. Up until he got life without the possibility of parole. A convenience store robbery gone bad on the south side of town. I never did hear all the details. Ms. Porter couldn’t get her nose out of American Idol long enough to see anything. Her and those stupid reality shows.

  I guess I didn’t really care to know. A father and two little boys were killed. I knew that much. The gruesome details weren’t needed. A guy in the gang they called Blade, tried like hell to step into Falcon’s shoes. I wouldn’t let him. I stayed away. I went to school and came home. That’s it. I didn’t have friends because the only ones that wanted to be my friend were either part of a gang, or on drugs. I stopped being the cheerful little girl, full of life, energy, and happiness, and drowned. I drowned every day in the same, sad misery.

  Ms. Porter wasn’t much better than Falcon, but at least she was safe. I spent my life after my twin, trying like hell to forget her. I became more and more introverted, realizing all the lies my mother told. You couldn’t escape life with a vision of a better one. It always came back. As soon as your eyes opened. Real life was there. The cold hard truth.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I did exactly what Paxton wanted the next morning for breakfast. He woke up to greasy bacon and eggs waiting for him in the kitchen. The radio played Justin Bieber until he entered, and then I switched it. NPR news talked about a clerk refusing same sex marriage license, Joe Biden’s son’s death, a missing seven year old, and a hurricane losing strength off the coast of Hawaii. Donald Trump’s new drama, and a dip in the economy.

  “You’re not eating with me?” Paxton asked with a piece of wiggly bacon hanging from his mouth. It turned my stomach just looking at it.

  “Not necessary,” I said with my back to his. I cleaned up the greasy mess, ignoring my husband and his unhealthy breakfast.

  “What the fuck, Gabriella?”

  My hair flipped to the right and to my back with a frown when I turned to look at him. “Is it, Paxton? Did I sit with you before I forgot who I was?”

  “No, but you’ve been doing it ever since. Sit down.”

  If that was his nice way of telling me he liked me sitting with him over breakfast, he sucked. Nonetheless, I poured coffee and sat with a bran muffin. Cranberry. Without one word, I picked off a piece and plopped it to my mouth.

  “What’s with you and this health kick? We don’t eat muffins. We eat good stuff. Like this,” he said while his eyes shifted to his plate and a biscuit sopped up gravy.

  “You can eat like that. I’m not.”

  “You did before.”

  I laid it on thick without even meaning to. Total diva. “So, I hear. Anything special I should know about before I screw this day up, too?”

  “I hate this attitude. Where the hell is this coming from?”

  I stood, taking great care not to meet his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to get your lunch ready. Do you want the bacon? Bacon sandwiches?”

  “Sure, but don’t you want to save it for the girls?”

  “No, they’re not eating that.”

  “You can’t make them eat muffins every morning.”

  I wiped up more grease that I’d seen glisten from the stove light. Jesus. How much grease did a pound of bacon have? “They don’t eat muffins every day. They eat pancakes, eggs, cinnamon toast, cereal, breakfast burrito’s with eggs, cheese, and spinach, and—.”

  Paxton sopped up more gravy, placing a slice of bacon on top. “I get it. Whatever. Can you just lose this attitude before I get home tonight?”

  “I’m not taking them to anything today. They can do piano in the morning, but that’s it.”

  “You have no say in that, but I talked to them last night. They only want to do a couple things. I get that, but they have to finish out tee-ball. There’s only two more games.”

  I refrained
from saying a word about it being more for him and his male companion egos. I didn’t say much of anything. I shrugged my shoulders and cleaned up more grease.

  Paxton ate his breakfast of heart attack and looked over his stocks on his phone. I packed his lunch and pushed it to the counter. Nothing healthy. Not even a bottle of water like I had been tossing in there. His carbonated cola would go better with his meal. I secretly hoped it made him sick. It would serve him right.

  As soon as he finished the last bite, he pushed it away and strolled toward me. I crossed my arms and looked around him, but only for a second. Paxton pinched my chin and made me look up to him. I did, but I didn’t uncross my arms. Even my eyes held a standoffish stance. At him, yet through him.

  “That’s enough. You’re acting like bitch, and I won’t have it,” he warned just above a whisper.

  I blew out a puff of smart-ass air and rolled my eyes. That time I did look at him. Straight at him with daggers, poking his eyes out. My lips met his without thinking about it, and I kissed him. One quick peck before stepping back.

  “Your lunch is ready,” I said with a nod toward the green and white lunch box, arms still crossed.

  The rest of the day went as planned. Almost. The girls and I were just about to go float in the pool when my phone rang.

  “Yes, how may I be at service to you?” I said, smartly while using my professional voice.

  “Jesus, Gabriella. Are we still doing this? I’m at a jobsite that I can’t leave. I’ve got concrete coming any minute now. I need you to bring me over some Rolaids or something. I’ve got heartburn like crazy.”

  I smiled when I heard the thump. I knew Paxton was beating his chest with a fist, trying to rid the burn. “Why? You’re just going to eat bacon again for lunch.”

  “I don’t think I will. Can you bring me one of those wrap things that you made me the other day?”

  “Oh, you mean the one with the honey-mustard that you hated.”

  “I didn’t hate it. Shut the fuck up and bring me something for this heartburn. I’ll send the address to your GPS.”