M A T U R E A U D I E N C E S O N L Y!
18+
I was patient, waiting for things to calm down before I left Honeys. The last thing I need now is to make the situation worse by getting involved. Hell, I nearly waited an entire hour after Vic returned from the fight.
From what I had heard, one of the guys had been taken to the ER by ambulance, and the other one had fled the scene when he saw the cops pull into the lot. They say he jumped in his truck and sped off.
Chris.
It was the talk of the night, every girl there acted so surprised. Asking me questions like, 'Was he a regular?' And 'I heard he got a dance from you, what was he like?' And so on.
I brushed their comments and questions off, making sure to play it off like I knew nothing. They were all airheads, just looking for some excitement- they had no idea of the gravity in the situation.
What I've done.
-
He sat on the front porch, wrapping his swollen hands in gauze. Focused on the task before him, he didn't take a moment to look at me as I crept up the driveway. The closer and closer I got, the worse I felt. Looking at his stoic expression, splattered with blood.
Zach's blood.
I stood beside him, staring down at him with questions flooding from my timid expression. "Hey," was all I could make out. Seeing him like this was horrible, betrayed, and defeated. Something told me there was no going back from this.
"What do you want?" He looked up at me, speaking with an eerily calm voice.
"Are you okay?" I inched closer.
"I'm fine." He bit off the string of tape holding down the gauze wrapping over his knuckles.
"I heard Zach was taken-"
"I probably just gave him a concussion." He shrugged, standing up and striding into the house.
"Chris," I followed after him, kicking my heels off at the door. "Can we please just-"
"Peach, I just don't want to talk to you. I'm trying to calm down, okay?" He lifted his guitar from the couch and sat down, twisting the knobs at the top to tune it.
"Can I just," I stepped over to him, my hand hovering over his shoulder before dropping back down to my side. "Would you let me at least mend you up a little?"
He positioned his fingers along the neck of his guitar, softly plucking out a series of chords. It was clear he was avoiding me, ignoring my pressing questions, yet he allowed me to stand beside him and listen to him play.
"Are you hungry?" My voice nearly coming out a whisper, eyeing the goosebumps that rippled up the back of his neck as I spoke. He was feeling an immense amount of pain, mentally and physically, and his music was reflecting that. I needed to comfort him, to apologize and take this pain away. I had so much to say to him, but he was too far from me. Too deep in the muddy depths of his anger.
His bandaged fingers slipped off the strings, disrupting the smooth flow of his music. In a heated fit of frustration, he threw his guitar off of his lap, watching it crash against the far wall. "You need to go." He bit out, hiding the pain in his voice.
"Christian," I started to speak before he jumped off the couch and spun to face me.
"Go." His tall figure towered above me, huffing out grunts of ferocity. His brow furrowed into an unforgiving glare, lips tightened in a thin line, and eyes so dark they were nearly black. "Just fucking go before I-"
I jumped back, startled by the bark in his voice. "Okay!" My hands held up in defense as I stepped away from him, leaving him to ruminate in his hatred.
There was no getting through to him now, I could say anything but it would be a meaningless waste of breath. Retreating off to the bathroom, I tuned him out as he stomped around the house, cursing loudly as he kicked his broken guitar.
If only there was something I could do to make it better.
—
Three makeup wipes later, and I had removed my mask that hid my true face. Peaches was gone, and it was just me, Briel. Face to face with myself in the mirror, flaws and all. My skin was nowhere near as perfect as my makeup made me look. Underneath it all, there was light freckling spanning over my nose and cheeks, small splotches of red discolored pigment, and dark bags under my eyes to top it all off. But it was me, down to the small scar above my left eyebrow where I fell from my father's shoulders the day he ran me around the house, tripping over the patterned blue rug in our living room. I was imperfect and simple under my makeup.
This world I lived in heavily relied on beauty and confidence. Having the strength and will to be able to handle wearing the mask. I could wear it, but it was getting heavy. Was beauty only relevant with the illusion of a perfectly painted mask made of fake eyelashes and concealer?
I didn't feel beautiful on the outside and especially not on the inside. Getting in between Chris and Zach like this was a disastrous position to be in. Like Zach had said, they were like brothers. Maybe I was just some garbage whore, twisting people's hearts and emotions just like Chris said. If only I could just explain myself to him.
How could I do such a thing to someone I claim to love?
I am garbage.
After a scalding hot shower, I snuck to my room eager to turn on my new TV and try out the pandora application. My life didn't allow a lot of time for certain luxuries such as this, but it sure was nice to have. The nicest electronic I had next to this TV was my cell phone and I hardly used that.
Searching through radio stations and lists upon lists of songs and artists, I discovered one station that caught my eye.
Metallica
A gentle rock ballad played softly from the small TV speakers, sending my mind and body into a relaxed state. I needed this, a song so lovely you could almost escape in it. A song I had never heard before but felt like I knew it dearly. Composed by a band called Led Zeppelin, yet another band I wasn't familiar with. Laying tucked under my covers I closed my eyes as the music lulled me to sleep.
Down by the seaside.
I'd love to live on the seaside, to become a creature of the ocean and sun. A glorious day when my restraints are lifted and I could smile more, laughing genuine and proud. My shoulders would be held high, basking in the warmth of my perfect life. Maybe I would feel beautiful, glowing as I kiss my lips against his. Maybe we would be in love.
Or maybe it is just a dream.
—
My blankets are ripped off of me, and I hear a voice saying my name through the quiet of my room. I can't seem to open my eyes, too enveloped in a peaceful sleep. I didn't want to open my eyes, the dream I was having was too wonderful to just leave.
What time is it?
"You ain't even wearin' underwear." That same voice groaned out, so familiar and so close. Fingertips touched to my ankles, playing up my inner leg.
I wasn't dreaming, was I?
"Christian." I felt myself moan, making little effort to flutter my eyes open. If this was my imagination toying with my eager desire, it had to have been one of the most extraordinary dreams I've ever had. So vivid and familiar that I found it hard to recognize it as reality.
The hands I felt dragging up my leg, gripped my ankles tightly. My eyes shot open, staring at the ceiling as I was yanked around in the bed with my legs flopped over the side. I felt his arms loop under my thighs, securing a firm hold over my belly, his hot breath against my naked legs like whispers of praise for my appearance.
Before I could even begin to protest, I watched as Chris dipped his head between my legs, biting at my inner thigh hungrily. His eyes darted up at me, shining in the blue glow of my TV screen as it played pandora.
"What are you-" I swallowed my words as I gasped out.
His warm tongue licked up my bare slit, sliding slowly between the blushing lips of my pussy. Each languid stroke he made to taste me, was paired with a low hum of a moan. Those rough and bandaged hands tightened against my stomach, pushing me into his face.
"Is this real?"
"Do you want it to be real?" With a low rasp, he sucked out on my sensitive bud, making a soft pop as it left his lips.
"I thought you- mmm."
He bit down on my clit, teeth covered by his lips as he sucked out. With every long lick and nibble, my body began to squirm under the rising pleasure, locked under his grasp. My legs now sat draped over his back, twitching as he found a rhythm on my clit. That delicious tongue flicking over the swollen bud like it was his religion.
"Mmm, you listening to Metallica?" He groaned as Fade to black played softly in the background.
"Oh yes," I panted, my fingers spread, feeling out for him but they just couldn't reach. Instead, my hands gripped to the bedsheets, fingernails scratching against the fabric.
"Growing darkness, taking dawn," He sang with the lyrics, lips just barely touching against my wet core. That voice was nearly hypnotic, deep and gritty but sensual as the vibrations touched my skin. "I was me, but now he's gone."
"My God," Heat traveled up my body as I felt my orgasm coming, trapped under his arms my stomach muscles clenched tightly. Rising as the crescendo of the song played in my ears, lifting me higher.
I knew I'd make him sing for me one day.
He groaned with me, rapidly picking up the pace as my hips began to rise from the mattress. My legs squeezed around his head, jolting as I let go of all this built-up pressure. His hazy eyes looked up at me, rolling back as he lapped up my juices savoring the feeling of me spasming against his lips.
"Christian." I whimpered his name as he pulled away, stumbling up to his feet and leaving me like a ragdoll dangling from the bed. I craved his lips on mine, feeling his body weigh down on me as he makes love to me.
Sure he's fucked before, but has he felt what it's like to be in love? Proving love in a sexual way?
"Don't say anything." His voice came out a slur and he pulled out a crisp wad of cash. Dropping the bills down on me, all over the bed.
Tens, twenties, oh my god fifties?
After dropping the entire stack he turned away and ripped open my bedroom door. He swayed in his spot, pausing to lean against the doorway before he dropped down to the ground. He was blackout drunk, no doubt, and for reasons unknown, he did this?
I truly couldn't complain.
At least he paid me too.
-
I didn't move at all, flat on my back until the sun shined through my windows. I needed that orgasm, and the sleep it provided after. I quickly sat up and looked at my door that sat wide open, expecting to see Chris where he had collapsed, but he wasn't there.
If it wasn't for the surplus of big bills surrounding my body, I would almost believe that this was a dream. I slid my weak legs to the floor and fixed my oversized t-shirt. I pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and a soft pair of shorts, remembering his comment about my lack of coverage.
Tiptoeing out of my room, I timidly looked around the house, discovering the mess Chris had made. His poor guitar sat in a heap on the couch, the neck detached and dangling from the strings. It seems like everything he cares about is failing him.
I'm only making it worse.
"Oh, man." I groaned, my shoulders sinking as I stared at the broken glass of discarded bottles.
I snuck myself around the house, peeking around every corner to find him before he found me. As I got closer and closer to the garage door, I heard music blasting within.
Anxiety budded in my stomach, as I held onto the doorknob prepping myself for what waited inside. We had to talk about this. I had to apologize to him, I couldn't stand this tension anymore. We had to figure out where we stood with each other.
With a deep breath, I turned the knob and pushed the door open to see him clearing the garage out. Everything was now neatly stacked up and put to the side to clear a large portion of the room.
"Wow." I stepped down onto the flooring and shivered as the cold cement met my bare feet. "It looks amazing in here."
He had his back to me, lifting a giant box filled with my Momma's old Christmas decorations. His bare back showed his muscles flexing as he lifted it up onto a set of steel shelving. When he turned he gazed over my small frame, eyes lingering on the shorts that peaked from the hem of my shirt.
"Why you doing this?" I tried again, silently begging for some sort of response. This quiet tension was crippling.
"I need to work out in here." He mumbled, grabbing a broom to sweep away some spiderwebs and leaves from the corner he had just cleared.
"Oh," I shifted in my place, looking over all of the boxes filled with memories I had left of my childhood and family. "Well, I wanted to talk with you."
"So talk." He snapped, tossing the broom out of his hands.
"Do you need me to wait until you're done?" I twisted my hair to the side, nervously fiddling with the strands.
"You've already interrupted me, and I'm gonna be out here for a while, Briel. What do you want?" All attention was on me now and he looked as upset as his voice sounded.
"Last night, Chris, what was that?"
He chuckled to himself, running his hands through his hair. "What do you mean? You need me to pay you more or somethin'?"
"Fuck off." I crossed my arms over my chest, with a scowl. "I could give a shit about your money."
"But you'll take Zach's?" He took a step towards me, sizing me up.
"It's not-"
"Don't bullshit me. How long has it been going on?"
"Chris, it was never like that. Zach only-"
"You're a filthy liar, Briel. He said you've been kissin' on him and it was real sweet."
"So you're gonna believe him?" I scoffed, looking up at his heaving chest, muscles twitching with anger.
"You expect me to believe you?"
"Chris, I damn near bit his lip off! I never wanted to kiss him. I never wanted to do anything I've done with him."
"So, what did you do with him then? You just sneaking around, whoring it out with my fucking friends?" He took another step, smiling down as I swallowed nervously.
"He just looks at me!" I said defensively. How much is too much to tell him? "I just dance for him and he pays me, Chris. It's my job."
He scoffed, clenching his chiseled jaw tightly. "So you'd do it for him and not me?"
"Listen to me-"
"For him?" His voice raised, and a cynical smile spread his heated face as he pressed the garage door button to close it.
Before I could open my mouth to respond, he ducked down and wrapped his arms around me, forcefully tackling me down to the cold garage floor.
Laying down flat on my back, I gasped for the breath that left me when I dropped. With one hand, he held my arms tightly above my head, squeezing his fingertips into the tendons in my wrists. My muscles screamed as he stretched my arms up harder, yanking on me while straddling one of my legs.
I was entirely pinned down, out of breath, and gasping out terrified pants. What was this? Was this his way of punishing me? "You're hurting me."
He gripped my shorts with his other hand and tore them down my legs, the fabric digging into my skin, making me cry out in pain.
"What are you doing?" I yelped out, struggling underneath him. Despite my struggle, he touched his fingers between my legs, rubbing me vigorously through my polka dot panties.
"If I have to treat you like a whore to fuck me, then I will." Growling out every word, he squeezed at my thin wrists tighter and put more weight down on my flailing limbs. "Open your mouth."
"Do you feel like a man, Chris?" Mocking his ego only gave rise to a new level of anger from him.
He retracted his hand from my panties and gripped onto my jaw after a quick slap to my cheek. Holding my face firm in place, he gave it a shake with every word he snarled out. "Open it, or I'll do it for you."
I hesitated, parting my lips slowly, my cheeks blushed pink with embarrassment. Shuddering underneath him, I began to feel my arms going numb, losing circulation under his hold.
"Stick your tongue out." He commanded, this power and control over me was exciting him, the tension between us making his cock swell against my legs.
I did as he asked, pointing my tongue out at him as if I could almost taste him. All of this was unnecessary, he didn't need to rough me around like this.
Maybe he did.
He dove into my mouth, sucking out on my tongue before his began dancing circles around mine. Pulling it back out where he wanted it, he broke away from the kiss. Dimples decorated his face as he cockily smiled down at me.
This was a game to him, nothing more, but he was satisfied as I gazed upon his mouth, hungrily craving more. Without further warning, he spit right on my tongue.
I gasped out, tangled between lust and anger, writhing underneath him. "You-"
One hand shoved my t-shirt up, exposing my chest to his greedy eyes. His other hand squeezed at my neck until the tendons pulsed under his fingertips. Groaning as he looked over my naked chest, he dipped his head down to my puckered nipple and his teeth bit down. Hard.
The pain he delivered through this little game he played was taking control of my senses, pain mixed with pleasure. My back arched against him and I felt his cock twinge. "You fucking asshole." I panted through gritted teeth.
Darting his head back up to me, he shot me a look of intensity, seeing into my wide eyes as I got wetter and wetter under his hand. Finally, he released my neck and continued to toy with me through my panties. "Yeah, I'm a fucking asshole." He was mocking my tone, pinching my clit to exude another moan from me.
Each one of my fingers reached out, my hands desperately needing to hold something. I couldn't contain this ache for him, waves of desire crashing over me until I had no room left to breathe. "My God, Chris." Words spilled out of my lips like venom, small sparks ignited within me like embers floating from a fire, I was captivated.
Chris released my wrists and moved to his feet. I couldn't move my arms, but at least they were free. Looking up at him now, watching as he unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. He stroked himself, letting out a deep groan.
Yes, I was staring.
"On your knees." When I didn't move, he laughed at me. In a quick flourish, I was lifted by my arms, and shoved into place, kneeling before him.
He grabbed his cock and slapped it hard against my mouth, the force of the blow leaving my lips tingling. "Now stick out your tongue."
I obeyed, opening wide for him to push into my mouth, forcing himself down my throat with zero regard for pain. To fully stuff himself inside, his hands gripped onto a chunk of my hair, pushing my head down then back out for a deeper thrust.
Gagging and coughing, I took him without resisting, he had me exactly where he wanted me. My eyes flicked up at him, rolling to the back of my head with a blink. All of the constant gagging forced tears down my hot cheeks.
Chris finally looked down at me, meeting my gaze with fiery rich eyes. "Now who's looking at you, Peaches."
I gasped out a pleading moan as he released me, pulling out of my mouth. He jutted out his jaw, breathing hard with a devilish grin. It was evident he was toying with me, wanting to see how far he could push me before I broke.
"You want more?" He huffed, wild and animalistic as he squatted down in front of me.
"You piece of-"
He tackled me backward onto the floor and ripped my panties down my leg. Jerking my legs open and pulling them up to his shoulders, he grinned down at me. We were back to square one, exactly how he wanted it. "You wanna keep talking?" Teasing me, he pressed his dick against my wetness, sliding it up over my clit then back down.
"Fuck!" I cried out, squeezing at my boobs, and shuddering out moans with every slow stroke.
"Has he fucked you?" I felt him pressing against me, testing out my tightness.
"Fuck you." I moaned, jolting as he slapped his hand against my boob. Twirling my nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
"Has he? You fucking slut."
"No!" I cried out, digging my fingernails in his arm that held him above me.
With that, he slammed into me forcing me open wide for him. I let him take me as he needed; crashing into me with incredible power, he jackhammered inside me, maintaining eye contact as I crumbled below him.
My spine grinding against the gritty flooring with each rough stroke, I vocalized my pleasure with shaky desperate moans. There was no way to control it, my hips raised from the floor with a need to hold tighter to him, to feel him closer. I had no room to squirm or shift through the intensity, those strong hands pressed down on my belly, forcing me to be still as he ravaged me.
"Oh god, I can't-" My voice was completely foreign to me, I was begging him with my entire body, pleading for release.
Fuck I missed him. I missed this.
One leg dropped from his shoulder from the force of his strokes, shaking violently as the sensations rippled throughout muscles.
"Ah, Chris, just like that."
He slowed to a deep grind and took my foot in his hand, kissing down my ankle. "You think you can just drop me like that, Bri?" He groaned, massaging my clit while inhaling deeply through his gritted teeth.
"No, never again." It was a promise I was willing to make. And from the looks of it, he believed me. I never wanted to let this go. If I'm going to die, at least I'll die in love.
"Fuck me- you're so nice," he growled out laying a firm slap on my inner thigh before amping up his thrusts. "Yeah, look at you moanin' for me. Feels good, huh? You little dirty brat."
"Yes!" I whimpered out, repeating my response like it was all I knew. "Yes- oh, it feels so good."
A low groan rumbled out of his chest before he pulled out of me hastily. "Sit up, I wanna cum in your pretty little mouth."
I pulled my shaking leg off of him and gratefully took him in my mouth. Peering up at him, both of us moaning in unison. Chris's hips flexed as he came down my throat, pressing my head all the way down on him. My mouth was filled, cum leaking out from the corners of my lips.
"Hell yes, such a good girl, cleaning up your mess." he slowly removed himself from my mouth, pleased to see that I swallowed what I could. Any remnants strung off like silk strings from my puffy red lips, a sexy view just for him, and a reward for me.
You best believe I licked my lips too.
He was pleased with me, undoubtedly still harboring the same angry feelings towards our situation, but a good hate fuck is one way to release tension.
"So," I sat myself down on my butt, looking up at him as he fixed his jeans. I waited until we both caught our breath to speak- I couldn't formulate a legible sentence even if I tried to. "How do you feel?"
"You fuckin' piss me off." He pulled out a cigarette and opened the garage door back up. Looking down at me on the floor by his feet, he held out a hand and helped me up by his side.
"Chris," I tugged back on his hand as he tried to release it. "I'm sorry."
He sighed heavily, sparking his cigarette. It was obvious he didn't care to continue on a conversation, but I had something to say. "Fix your shorts. Step outside with me."
He left me in the garage as I lifted my twisted shorts from the floor and took shaky steps out of the garage to meet him on the porch.
Between his fingers, he held a cigarette out to me. "Sit." He gestured to the spot on the porch step where he sat.
"I want to explain myself." I took the cigarette and sat down next to him, looking up at him timidly as he lit it for me.
"Don't waste your time lying to me."
"No," I laid my hand on his knee. "Only the truth, Chris."
He propped his head on his hand and dragged lazily on his cig. "I'll hear you out. Just know I can see when-"
"Before my father was murdered, he sold me." I took a slow drag from the cigarette he gave me and looked down at my bare legs. "He sold me and my Momma."
"What?" He asked, actually sounding shocked. "He sold-"
"And I'm still paying off my debts, Chris. They came to the club and they punished me for letting myself lose focus on what they want me to do."
He stood up from the steps and dropped in front of me. "Look at me. Are you fucking-" he scanned over my face frantically, eyes filled with ferocity.
"That's why I'm afraid to let you in. I don't want to-"
"What did they do to punish you?" He took my cig from my hands and crushed the cherry out, tossing it behind him. "I need to know, Peach."
"It wasn't that-"
"Tell me." He held my cheeks in his hands, shaking with rage. "Please, let me make it better."
"He beat me." I closed my eyes, tears spilling down my face. It was relieving to finally tell him, but a new wave of fear now plagued my heart.
What would he do? How could he ever make it better? Daddy was too big, spreading out throughout the entire state of Florida, connections everywhere. He was far more powerful than Chris even realizes.
"Who's he?"
I turned away, hesitantly searching for an adequate response. I couldn't tell him, he would surely get reckless and take this into his own hands. Marcello had his own men to watch his back, he was just as untouchable as Daddy was.
"Briel, tell me, god damn it." He wiped my tears, taking my hands in his. With the sensitivity of the conversation, I was completely unable to lie to him. I had to trust him, put all my faith in him.
I broke out into a fit of tears and he pulled me into his chest, gently rubbing my back. "His name is Marcello."
-
*Mwah*
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