“You can hate me all you want, sweetheart. God knows I love a good hate fuck.”
Then I pull her hair a little bit so that she bends over my arm, and then I kiss her soft neck, all the way down to her clavicle.
“You hate me… You want me.”
“I’m pretty sure I just hate you.”
I watch my mouth spread into a smile as she squirms in my arms. “Yeah? Let’s find out how wet you are just from being held by me.”
I slide from her waist to hike up her skirt, enjoying the view of her upper thigh being exposed. Then I move my hand up her smooth skin, giving her ass a squeeze before I hook my fingers over her panties and pull them down her silky legs. They drop to her ankles and she presses her legs together.
“You broke the rules.”
Her perky ass almost demands a slap, and I quickly spank her left cheek.
“Spread your legs, or you’ll get another one.”
Breathing hard, she moves her legs an inch apart, and my finger glides around her hip and up her gorgeous thighs to slip in her wetness. Her pussy is soaked for me. My cock grows inside my slacks as I watch her face collapse.
“Yeah, I think you’re a little liar.”
She looks so fucking hot with my hand up her skirt, her breasts heaving as she grabs the arm as if to throw it off, but she can’t go through with it.
“Why—why are you doing this?”
Revenge. Fuck the MC. I’ll take one of your daughters and turn her into my dick-sucking slave. I’ll make her worship me. She’ll be mine.
“’Cause I want you.”
I fuck her pussy, digging my fingers deep into her wet cunt as I tear off her shirt, and the sight of her topless makes my dick jump. I press her against the glass as she moans.
“I want you to look at yourself. Look how turned-on you are.”
My fingers thrust hard between her legs, and she lets out a cry. “Jack!”
“Look at yourself.”
She turns her head and looks, seeing her panting expression and me behind her. My hand squeezes each of her round tits and then I play with her hard nipples, twisting them with my fingers. She moans hard.
Jesus Christ, I want to sink my cock into her.
I’ve almost had enough of her bucking against my hand, but then she turns her head and kisses me like she’s never kissed me before. It’s fucking rough and full of teeth.
My other hand slips out between her legs and I bring it to her face. She pulls away from me, her lips swollen as I move the finger covered in her juices over her mouth. Her tongue teases my fingers as she sucks every last drop.
Then my fingers fall from her mouth and she gives me a plaintive look.
I feel her ass riding against my stiff cock, and more than anything I want to watch myself bang her in front of this mirror.
With a few swift jerks my slacks fall to the floor, and Beatrice shudders as she feels my length against her back.
“I want you to watch yourself as I bury my cock in you.”
And then I tug down my briefs, hissing as the cool air hits my shaft. I pull a condom from the nightstand and rip it open, rolling it over me. Then I pull her lips apart, guiding my cock into her wet heat.
She gives such a high gasp that I’m sure I hurt her, until she collapses against the mirror.
Oh God, the fucking relief. It washes over me the moment I sink into her and ram my cock home. All the bullshit in my life fades away, and I only care about giving her my cum.
“Hands against the mirror.”
Beatrice spreads her legs wide and places her hands on the mirror, bending over to give me a nice view of her ass. I flip the skirt over her back and watch her face contort with pleasure and pain.
Fuck, she feels good. Her cunt is like smooth silk over my cock, warm and welcoming. It opens up, letting me in deeper, until my balls crush against her pussy and she lets out a sharp moan. The rhythmic slapping gets my blood boiling, the feeling of her hips in my hands, and even seeing myself pounding this bitch.
I spank her ass once, twice, watching blood rise to the surface of her skin. I watch it move in tandem with my fucking. She balls her fists on the mirror and cries out.
“More, Jack!”
I reach forward and grab a ponytail of hair. I yank back, forcing her to arch.
“Shut up and take my cum.”
The friction gets intense, and I feel my balls heating up. Close. So close. Loud smacks fill the room as I fuck her harder. She’s screaming so loud that we’re going to get the cops called on us.
I wrap my arm around her waist and I swing her upright, crushing her against the glass as I drive into her. My other hand still yanks her hair, and I dig my fingers deep. I find her pussy and I press down over her clit, and her moans deepen.
“Holy shit, Jack!”
Then I feel it ripping through me. Her muscles tighten around my cock and I thrust hard, releasing my cum into her. I have to keep fucking her. Everything inside me wants that cum shoved as deep as possible, but of course the condom catches it all. Her pussy contracts beneath my fingers as I pulse in and out, the wave of pleasure receding.
I slip out of her and she turns around, wrapping her arms around my neck and digging her fingers into my hair. It feels amazing.
She lifts herself on her toes to kiss me, and incredible warmth fills my chest. Then I wonder if she’s becoming mine or if I’m becoming hers.
BEATRICE
My eyes feel like sandpaper and my head pounds. I run my finger along the sharp edge of the blade, and I think about what my dad wanted me to do. There’s a way out, if I had the courage to do it.
Slit his throat while he sleeps.
A visceral, gut-wrenching feeling makes me drop the knife. No. Jack might be a bastard, but he doesn’t deserve to die. I’m the one who deserves to be punished. I’m the one carrying this big, awful secret around. His brother’s death eats him alive. I see it every day, when he buries himself in drinks. I still haven’t said a word.
I stand up from the couch, staring at all the boxes, and I walk aimlessly to another room. All I know is that it’s been a week into our marriage, and I’m losing my damn mind.
He beat the shit out of Paul just for showing up at my doorstep.
I bend down and pick up the knife that I know I won’t use.
My stomach roils with it. He’s completely the opposite of me—a maniac who flies off the handle. I’m a mouse by comparison.
Grabbing my purse¸ I decide to go out for a walk. As I stroll into the brilliant rays of sunshine, unease settles in my stomach. I’m not used to this Italian neighborhood yet. I feel like an intruder even though I’m married to one of them.
I sling my purse over my shoulder and fighting the tinge of nausea when I see three guys loitering on the sidewalk, smoking. The way they won’t stop staring at me gives me a really bad feeling. They look older and very rough around the edges. Degenerates. My insides clench and I look down as I pass them.
“‘Ey, pitoune!”
“How are you, sweetie? Hey!”
Fuck.
I walk right between them, keeping my head down as I head straight for the corner store. The glass doors slide and I stumble gratefully into the air-conditioned grocery. I grab a basket and fill it with a few things and then I notice the voices speaking at the register in melodic Italian. I’m just getting a couple things for dinner, and as I weave through the aisles I listen to them talking. It’s so much prettier than French.
There’s a man in dark jeans leaning over the counter at the register. He sees me approach and leans back, digging a cigarette out of his pocket. The girl behind the counter gives him a secretive smile and turns to me.
“Si, prego.”
“Oh—I don’t speak Italian.”
She nods and rings me up. I pay her with a hundred-dollar bill and take the change from her blindly. The man makes a remark in Italian and the girl laughs. The harsh sound hits my ears and I grab the plastic bag.
&n
bsp; I get out of there, the sunlight doing nothing to lift my spirits, and those guys are still there. They whistle at me as soon as I exit the store.
God fucking damn it.
“Hey, why you don’t like us?”
“C’est quoi ton problème?”
Just don’t look at them. Ignore.
“Vache.”
The insult hits me right in the face and tears spring to my eyes as I walk away furiously. It’s not until I’m several blocks away that I realize that the cashier gave me the wrong change. She shorted me by about forty bucks.
Jesus.
I look back, but the guys are still there. The idea of walking through them again and confronting the girl makes me want to vomit, so I keep going. Even though I hate myself for it.
God, how pathetic am I?
When I get home, I put the money and the groceries next to each other on the kitchen table so that I can feel shitty about myself the whole day. I’m listless around the apartment. I consider cleaning up a little, but he told me not to touch his things.
Hours later I hear the scrape of a key and a lock being turned, and I’m almost happy to see Jack stumble in the apartment.
“Hey,” he says in a low voice.
He walks into the living room and sinks into the couch beside me with a sharp sigh, and then I look at his face. There’s a huge, ugly red mark on the side of his face, and his hands are cracked with dry blood.
“Oh my God, what happened?”
“Ran into a little trouble.”
I stand up abruptly, heading straight for the freezer where I dig out a bag of frozen peas. He slips out of his shoes and throws his jacket on a nearby chair as if everything’s normal.
“What the hell happened?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I sit back down next to him, feeling strangely diminished beside him, and then I hold the bag of peas to his face.
Jack hisses slightly as the cold comes in contact with his raw wounds, and then a slow sigh leaves his mouth.
“That looks really bad,” I say in a high voice.
He frowns and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Will you stop with the dramatics? Johnny needed something done.”
I try to figure out why Jack’s wounds bother me so much, and then it hits me.
I’m nothing without him.
The MC won’t let me back in, and Johnny sure as shit won’t take care of me. He’s all I’ve got.
Oh fuck.
“What’s the matter with you?”
My mood blackens and I feel my chest tightening as though my body is trying to suffocate itself. He puts his hand over the one holding the frozen peas to his face. The pressure in my head is about to explode, and the soft voice Jack uses makes it even worse.
“Nothing,” I say in a thick voice.
I slide my hand out from under his and then I stand up, walking slowly to the kitchen. Breathe. Calm down. I take a seat at the table, out of his sight, but those crumpled bills sit right in the middle, staring me in the face.
And I blubber like a fucking baby.
I clamp my hands over my mouth to stifle the noise, but it’s too late. The scrape of Jack’s feet alerts me to his presence.
“Look,” he begins in a softer voice. “You’re going to have to get used to seeing me hurt. I can’t come home to you crying like this.”
“You don’t understand.”
His face loosens and he takes another few steps forward. His hand lies heavily on my shoulder. “I don’t understand how a girl who grew up in the MC could get like this. I thought you’d be tougher.”
I’m not tough at all.
“It’s been a really bad day.”
I want to smack the smirk from his face. He tries to sober his expression and touches my arm.
I wrench it away from him. “Could you just leave me alone?”
I don’t look at his face. I only see the hand clenched at his side and his wavering legs. He hesitates, clenching and unclenching his hand. Then he pulls out a chair and sits down next to me, touching my hair and face. It almost feels sweet.
“Just tell me, Beatrice.”
Oh God.
I wipe my face and stare at the kitchen table. “I just—I was stiffed at the grocery store down the block.”
“You were what?”
He grabs my shoulder and leans in, all amusement gone from his face.
“They shorted me about forty dollars.”
“So why the hell didn’t you go back to complain?”
Shame creeps in from the frustration in his voice. I think of the three guys harassing me on the street and my paralyzing fear preventing me from marching right through them.
“There were a few guys on the corner giving me a hard time.” I bite my tongue from revealing any more. The last thing I want is him flying off the handle because some dumbass on the street corner called me a cow.
His voice hardens. “What did they say?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, Beatrice.”
“They were hitting on me and being assholes about it.”
The bag of peas hits the table with a hard thump and Jack stands up from the chair, grabbing my hand. I follow the pressure, anxiety leaping inside me when I see the darkness on his face.
“Come on.”
The keys scrape across the wood as he grabs them from the table and nearly yanks me down the hall. I dig my heels in and he whirls around.
“Wait— What are you doing?”
“Going to the fucking grocery store to break some goddamn heads.”
Oh my God.
“Jack!”
He bends down swiftly, taking my head in his hands as his demeanor shifts suddenly. A sweet smile staggers across his face before he kisses me twice on my lips. Heat pricks across my chest as he pulls back.
“I’m not going to just give a pass to people who fuck over my wife.”
“Promise me you won’t hurt anyone.”
Shock makes his face blank for a moment and then the smile returns. “I won’t. I promise.”
I feel strong walking by Jack’s side, his hand firmly clasped around mine. He doesn’t say much as we walk down the street, but I can see the fury building up behind his eyes. The three men at the corner are nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop Jack from looking down all the streets for them.
“Cocksuckers.”
He opens the door to the grocery store for me and I walk inside, noticing that the same cashier is working. There’s only one other customer inside. Jack enters the store smoothly, scanning it before sliding up to the customer browsing the frozen food section. He taps him on his shoulder and the customer turns to face him, confused.
Jack only has to utter a few words. “Take a walk.”
The man does a double take and drops his basket of groceries on the floor.
“Sorry,” he mutters unnecessarily.
My heart skips ahead as Jack follows him and flips the sign on the door to CLOSED. Head pounding, I try to mouth him a question: What are you doing? He ignores me, joining me at my side. He takes my hand again, which slips in his, and he marches me to the counter.
Crap. What the hell is he planning?
The cashier perks her head up, noticing Jack, and gives him a much warmer smile than she gave me.
“Hello, Jack.” Her sycophantic gaze slides over to me. “Who’s this?”
“This is my wife, Beatrice. She tells me she ran into a bit of trouble at the store today.”
Recognition slowly dawns over her face and she quickly covers her mouth to hide a gasp. My fingers slip as he approaches the counter and stares her down.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Don’t play dumb, or I’m going to get pissed.”
She pushes herself from the counter and blinks rapidly, wrapping her arms around herself. “I—I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
A loud crash makes her jump and scream. Jack slams his fist into
the cash register, making it fly open. He reaches over and grabs handfuls of bills, cleaning out half the goddamn thing. A lump rises in my throat as he slowly stuffs the bills in his pocket. She flinches as he reaches over again and slams the register closed.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You shorted my wife forty bucks, you dumb bitch!”
The cashier gives me a cutting glare. “It was an accident!”
Jack leans back with a strained smile. “Ah, an accident. I see.”
He’s like a tiger. Suddenly he pounces to the right and grabs something that swings with a wide arc. Glass cracks as he whales against the upright case of drinks. He throws his body into swinging the bat into the glass case. Hundreds of jagged pieces of glass shatter and fall to his feet, spilling cold air into the store.
“What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!”
“What?” he says, raising his arms, still holding the bat. “It was an accident!”
Oh my God, what a psycho!
The girl backs away, her eyes as big as saucers as she hits the wall.
Goddamn it.
“Jack, stop!”
I move between him and the register, shoving his chest. He gives me a look of feigned surprise.
“What? My hand slipped!”
Jesus Christ. He’s a fucking lunatic.
The cashier pipes up in a small voice, “I’m sorry, all right? I—I didn’t know who she was.”
He waves the bat in her face. “The next time you take advantage of my wife, I’ll shove this bat up your ass.”
Then he lets it fall, and it clangs on the floor next to the broken glass. He curls an arm around my waist and jerks me to his side, his fingers spreading warmth through my body. My ribs seem to jump against my t-shirt as he walks me across the grocery store, opening the door to let me out. I flinch when he returns to my side.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You,” I say in a shaking voice. “You’re a lunatic.”
I can’t believe I signed up for a lifetime of this. Growing up I never saw an ounce of violence. Sure, the guys would get a little too drunk every so often and things would get out of hand, but nothing that made me sick with fear.
Property of the Bad Boy Page 9