King proceeded to set up three small containers of black ink. “Here.” He handed me a thin-tipped black marker.
“What do you want me to do with this?” I asked.
“I want you to draw your sketch again. The same one. Hold it up for reference.”
“Draw it on what?”
“On the back of my hand, it’s a much smaller canvas then your sketch so you’ll have to downsize a bit, but it’s one of the few spaces of blank canvas I have left.
“Why?”
“Why do you always ask so many fucking questions?”
“Don’t you have a machine that does this? You can copy this picture and just stick it on there if that’s what you really want.”
King sighed with frustration. “Yes, I do. But it’s not the point. I want you to draw it on me. I want you to put that pen to my skin and recreate your sketch. I don’t care if it’s crooked. I don’t care if it’s not perfect, just fucking draw it!” he shouted, standing up. He took a few steps toward me until I was backed up against the counter, clutching the sketch book to my chest. “Please?”
A ‘please’ from the man who didn’t say ‘please’.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But why?”
“Because I looked over at you while you were drawing this, and you looked all cute, biting your lip, your face flushed, the back of the pencil pressed against those pink lips. Then, when you showed me what you drew, I saw it right away.”
“Saw what?”
“Me. The bird. You drew me.” I opened my mouth to argue that it was just a bird, but I couldn’t. He was right.
Dark and dangerous.
Hard but beautiful, taking what he wanted from the world.
It was him.
King propped the sketchbook on the table so I could reference my drawing. I did the best I could to create a smaller version of it onto the back of his hand. I worked even harder trying to ignore the electricity humming between us. King never took his eyes off of me.
It took me twice as long to complete than the sketch, but when I was finally done, I put the marker down and sat back.
“Okay?” I asked.
King held his hand up and examined my work. “It will work,” he confirmed. “Now, go get me a coffee.”
“No Red Bull?” I asked, standing up from the table.
“It’s after 5am. After 5am calls for coffee.”
“Okay, coffee then,” I said, making my way down to the kitchen. By the time I figured out the single cup coffee machine thing they had—the only modern appliance in the kitchen—and got back to the studio, King was hunched over his hand with his tattoo gun buzzing.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Silence.
“So what? You’re ignoring me now?”
He lifted the gun from his skin. “Yes, because if I talk to you, I’ll be giving this bird a dick in his mouth instead of a snake,” King said.
“I will get back to the fact that you sort of made a joke later, something which I didn’t think you were capable of doing, but right now, the only thing I can concentrate on is that you are tattooing my sketch onto your hand!” I shouted.
“What did you think I was going to do with it?” King dipped his gun into the ink.
“I don’t know, but not that!”
“Pup?” King asked softly.
“Yeah?”
“Enough with the questions. You’re distracting me. Go the fuck to bed.”
“But—” I started to argue.
“Pup?”
“Yeah?”
“Bed. Now. Or you can choose to stay, but I’m warning you, if that’s the decision you make and you are still here when I’m done, I’m bending you over that couch and fucking you into next week.”
Shit.
I scurried out of the room as fast as I could, not stopping to catch my breath, I could still hear him laughing as I closed the door and sank to the floor.
I was totally and utterly, for lack of a better word, FUCKED.
Chapter Fifteen
King
You looked so fucking cute, sitting there concentrating. Where the fuck did that come from? I hadn’t even realized I’d said it out loud until I saw the redness rise in her cheeks. On the other hand, flirting with her and making her uncomfortable was by far becoming my newest and most favorite source of entertainment.
Since she started eating Preppy’s cooking, it only took a couple of days for Pup to pack on some weight. The additional few pounds had done amazing things for her figure. Her sunken cheeks were a little fuller and somehow made her appear even more innocent and cherub-like. Her tits and ass were rounder and begging to be touched even more so than before. She had the body of a woman and the face of an angel and I was constantly walking around like a thirteen year old who had to keep adjusting himself to hide his raging hard-on.
The truth was I didn’t bother her while she was sketching because I didn’t want her to move, and I was perfectly content to just sit and stare at her all night. But then, she would cross and uncross her legs while biting her lip, and all I could think about was how I wanted to be the one to bite that lip. How wet I could make her between those legs.
I didn’t get up from my stool after Neil left because I was afraid she’d look up from her sketch and see my cock standing at attention through my jeans. If she were any other chick, I would draw her attention to it, but I didn’t want to send her running into the other room. I already felt her fighting off whatever attraction she had for me. The horrible truth of the matter is that I didn’t want to scare her away.
Because I actually liked having her around.
Somewhere, somehow, my anger towards her had turned to some sort of fucked-up affection.
Which I had to put a stop to right a fucking away, because any sort of feelings for her other than contention and lust would only get in the way of the plans I had for her.
She was afraid of me. That much was obvious, but there was a fire there, too, and the more she fought it, the more it turned me on.
The way her body reacted to me told me that there was only so long she could resist the inevitable. The inevitable being me fucking her until she couldn’t remember her own name.
It’s not like she knew it anyway.
But I did.
An unfamiliar nagging feeling tugged at my gut.
Guilt maybe?
I brushed it off. There wasn’t time to entertain any feelings of guilt. A better opportunity to get Max back was not going to just fall into my lap like this again. And in the meantime, I was going to spend my time with her as I pleased. In her case, that meant doing everything I had to make her warm, wet, and willing.
“Boss-man!” Preppy shouted, bounding into my studio with his pupils dilated, forgetting to blink like he’d just snorted blow by the fucking truck full.
“What’s up, Prep?” I asked, putting the finishing touches on the tattoo Pup had sketched for me. After I saw it, I needed it on my skin, immediately and permanently and for the life of me I didn’t know why. But after it was done, I felt like a weight was lifted.
“What the fuck is that?” Preppy asked, pointing to the back of my hand. I wiped off the excess ink and blood and held it up so he could see.
“It’s a tattoo, dumb-ass. Or did you forget what it is I do in this room?”
“I know it’s a tattoo, fucker. I just wanted to know why you were tattooing yourself right now.”
“You’ve seen me do it a hundred times so what’s the fucking big deal?” I barked, not liking Preppy’s third degree.
“What exactly is it?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder as I put a layer of plastic wrap over the top.
“It’s nothing. Pup drew it. What exactly is it you wanted?” I hated being short with him, but I wasn’t about to answer questions I myself didn’t exactly know the answers to.
“I came to tell you two things actually. One is that Bear called, and he overheard his dad talking. Isaac’s coming to town. He’s not su
re when, just knows he’s coming. Got eyes on him though. He hasn’t left Dallas yet.” The MC had a long-standing relationship with our former primary source of weed.
“And?”
“AND I’m pretty sure he’s probably a little pissed the fuck off that we cut him out as our supplier.”
“I was locked up, and he didn’t want to deal with anyone but me. If he expected us to just do nothing until I got out, that was his mistake. We saw opportunity. We seized it. End of story.”
“Yeah man, that’s the way you and I see it. But Bear overheard his dad saying that Issac sees it more like a kick to his balls that he wants to pay back to us a thousand times over.”
“I’m not hiding from Isaac, or anyone else. If he wants to talk to me, he knows where the fuck I live. Now, what’s the other thing you wanted to tell me?” I snapped.
“Dude, you’re so fucking moody since you got out. You’re like a bitch on the rag twenty-four hours a day. The second thing I wanted to tell you is that I’m going to take Doe out on a date Saturday night.”
“You’re going to fucking WHAT?” I suddenly wished my tattoo gun was a real one because with that one sentence, Preppy was walking into dangerous fucking territory.
“She’s cool as shit, so I’m going to take her out. Maybe, a movie or something. The drive-in is playing some scary paranormal thing, and chicks fucking love that shit. Makes ’em all cuddly,” Preppy said, hugging himself with his arms.
“Like fuck you are.” Not only was he not taking her out, I got the impression that scary wasn’t exactly Doe’s favorite genre. The girl’s been scared enough in real life.
“Dude, I’m not going to fuck her. Unless that’s cool with you. In which case, I will most definitely fuck her.”
I stood from my stool. It rolled back and crashed against the wall. “Not. A Fucking. Chance.” The thought of his hands on her made my stomach twist.
“You don’t even like her,” he barked. “Besides, you don’t know anything about her. And that’s your fault because she may not know a lot about herself, but the little she does know you haven’t even bothered to ask her about.”
He had a point, but Preppy didn’t know that there was a reason for that, and I planned to keep that reason to myself for the time being.
“What exactly would you like for me to talk to her about? Because the where do you come from, what’s your name, thing doesn’t exactly apply in her case.”
Preppy huffed and linked his fingers together behind his neck. “I don’t know. You could ask her something simple, like maybe, how she likes her sandwiches or something.”
“Sandwiches. You want me to ask her about sandwiches?”
“Why the fuck not? Everyone likes a delicious sandwich, and talking about them is better than talking about the heavy shit you seem to be carrying around these days.”
This is why Preppy was my best friend. He saw right through me.
“I know Max is important. I know we need to get her back, but until then, you still have a life to live, man. And talking to the girl, who for all intents and purposes is living in our house, isn’t going to get in the way of that.”
That’s what you think.
“Have you even fucked her yet? I mean, the chick sleeps in your bed and shit. What the fuck is that all about?”
“That’s none of your fucking business,” I warned. He was crossing a line.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll take that as a no. Maybe, that’s why you’ve been so fucking grumpy since you got out. Maybe you just need to get some ass. Get laid. Get all up in there before your dick shrivels up and falls the fuck off.”
“I’ve gotten laid since I’ve gotten out, so shut the fuck up about it. This isn’t about liking her or about fucking her. This is about me saying NO and you listening to me for once!”
“King, you’ve been my best friend since the dinosaurs roamed the earth, so listen to me when I tell you that you look at her like you want to fuck her brains out, but you treat her like she’s garbage under your shoe. It’s not cool, man. You’re the one who decided to keep her here, which wasn’t the brightest idea to begin with, so let me have a little fun with her for fuck’s sake.”
“This is about a debt that needs to be paid,” I said, unconvincingly.
“Oh come on! We both know she didn’t take anything. And since when is it up to you to dole out life lessons on who needs to pay for what? You some kind of life coach now? Besides, she’s not your property. She’s a person, not a fucking car.”
“That’s rich coming from you.” I’ve witnessed Preppy doing things that made even my skin crawl, but if he was going to throw my shit in my face, then I was going to throw his shit in his.
“Seriously, she isn’t yours. You can’t just take her.”
“Yes, she is mine, and I did just take her. She sleeps in my bed, doesn’t she? Next to me. I may not have fucked her, but it was me she turned to when she wanted to get off the other night, and me who gave her what she needed. So no, I haven’t fucked her, yet. But the answer is still no, you can’t fucking take her out,” I said through gritted teeth, I could feel my veins tighten as my blood pressure sky-rocketed.
Preppy cocked his head to the side and smiled. A recognition of some sort settled over his face. “Well, she’s not my property. She’ s my friend. So, if I can’t take her out, then you have to take her. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for her. She’s been through some shit, and we both know what that’s like. The kid deserves a break. A little fucking fun.”
“Fuck no. I’m not going to fucking date her. And this isn’t up for debate. No date. No nothing. Just fucking drop it.” For the first time in my life, I felt like punching Preppy. He’s never coaxed that kind of anger from me before.
“Man, get your fucking head out of your ass. She’s just a confused kid. Either you take her, or you let me take her. I may call you Boss-Man, but we’re friends, and that doesn’t mean you can make all my decisions for me. You may call the shots, but I’m still my own person. I’m not asking you here. I’m telling you.”
“Fine!” I shouted. Throwing my arms up in the air. “Take her out on a fucking date. What the fuck do I care anyway? Go! Have a fucking blast!”
I sat back down on my stool and pretended to fiddle with my equipment. Why the fuck I was getting so riled up to begin with was beyond me.
Maybe, I’d just forgotten how to interact with people who weren’t wearing orange jumpsuits or correctional officer uniforms.
“Awesome!” Preppy hopped from one foot to the other. “I’m going to go iron my good bow tie.”
“Prep?”
“Yeah, Boss-Man?”
“It’s six in the fucking morning.”
“And?”
“You want to take her out on Saturday right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Monday.”
“Ah.”
“So how about you go wipe the fucking blow from under your nose and get some fucking sleep. Iron your good bow tie tomorrow.” Preppy may not have to listen to me, but the need to tell him what to do would never go away.
I’d forgotten while I was away that Preppy was one hell of a partier.
We both were.
Or, I used to be.
Before Max.
Before prison.
Before her.
Preppy wiped the powder from under his nostrils and rubbed it onto his gums.
“Yes, sir,” Preppy said with a mock salute. He turned to leave.
“And Prep?” I called out.
“Yeah, Boss?” he asked, stopping mid-stride.
“You’re taking her out as her friend only. You got that?”
“I got that.”
“Good. Because if you so much as touch her, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Doe
“What is all this?” I asked, staring down at the plate upon plate of sliced meats and cheese.
“Sandwich stuff.” King s
aid, tossing me a roll.
“Yes, I can see that. But why are we making sandwiches on the dock?”
I wondered what his ulterior motive was. King didn’t seem like the type to picnic on the dock, no matter what the situation. Plus, in the entire time I’d been staying with King, he’d never once made a meal for me.
Or even eaten a meal with me.
“Because it’s a nice day to be outside, and because who the fuck doesn’t like sandwiches?” King sat on one of the plastic chairs surrounding wooden table that was screwed to the dock so it wouldn’t fly away during a storm. “And Preppy said…I don’t fucking know, just go with it.” King loaded his roll with salami and cheese and dug out a huge scoop of mayo from the jar with a spatula.
“That’s enough mayo to choke a horse,” I said, carefully selecting turkey and bacon for my own sandwich.
“Have you actually seen a horse choke from ingesting too much mayo?” he asked.
“I very well could have. I just don’t remember.” I grabbed a handful of Cheetos from the bag and smushed them into the top slice of bread with both hands. King pulled the other chair up along side his until the arms were touching and motioned for me to sit down.
And then OUR arms were touching.
“So what’s it like?” King asked, popping the top off a beer and handing it to me.
“What’s what like?” I asked, setting my paper plate in my lap.
“Not remembering anything. I keep thinking about what that would be like and I can’t imagine it.”
“It’s…” I searched my brain for the words but only one popped into my mind over and over, “…empty.”
“You’re a lot of things, pup, but empty isn’t one of them.” King tucked an unruly strand of hair behind my ear.
“Oh yeah? Then, you tell me what I am, because I can’t think of anything that doesn’t have to do with me losing my memory.” I took a bite of my lunch that was so big I could barely close my mouth around it.
King laughed. “Well, for starters…you’re kind of quirky.”
King Page 11