Love and War: Part One – Chapter 18

My hands lace in front of my face, fingers resting against my forehead, the anger consuming me whole. I stare down at the grain in the wood of my desk, eyes set between my elbows, trying to calm down.

The moans coming from her mouth in a sleep-induced state were totally different than the one before. But that’s not the part that pissed me off. What sent rage coursing through every vein inside of me was that one word that exited after: Chuck.

A knock sounds at the door. “Enter.”

It starts to open and then she slips inside, treading slowly. “You wanted to see me?”

I sit back in my chair, staring at her, my once hard cock down to a semi. “Tired?”

“About that . . .”

“Lock the door.”

She does as I request. “I’m sorry. It was just starting to hurt and that’s how I deal with pain. I didn’t even realize I was—”

“Come sit down.”

“Okay . . . where?”

I have no other chairs in here, because there are never any visitors. I deal with my business in the studio or elsewhere. The rest I deal with alone. “On the desk.”

My eyes follow her around the solid piece of oak until she sits on top of it. “Are you going to fire me?”

“Do you think I should?”

“No. Please don’t. Dock my pay if you have to or suspend me for a day to think about what I’ve done. That’s far worse punishment. I want to be here. I don’t know what came over me, but it won’t happen again.”

“Okay.”

“Okay . . . you’re not going to fire me or you’re going to dock my pay?”

“Okay you can stay.”

“Thank God.”

“But for the record I’m not mad you fell asleep. You weren’t technically working.”

“Seriously? So I just went through all of that shit and you’re not even mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad.”

“Uh, okay? Can I ask why?”

“One word: Chuck.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m going to give you one opportunity to tell me, without withholding any information, as to why a man’s name other than mine came out of your mouth in an orgasmic way when my cock is the one servicing you. If I have to find out myself from someone else, it’s not going to be good. Unlike most people, I have no conscience. My moral code was long gone before it got started. Even Kaston has more of one than I do. Life and death are parts of existence. Which side a person is on doesn’t matter to me.”

“I’m not sleeping with someone else if that’s what you’re asking. I would never do that. Even if I were that kind of person, you scare the hell out of me.”

“That wasn’t what I asked, was it?”

“He’s just someone from my past. Don’t you ever have dreams that aren’t warranted or wanted?”

I steeple my hands in front of me, my elbows pressing into the arms of the chair. “My patience is wearing thin.”

“Fuck, Kross. Are you going to go down the list of your past for me too? What does it matter?”

“I assure you my list is fucking short, and I sure as hell am not moaning their names in my sleep; especially when I’m driving my cock inside of you in my pastime, balls deep and ungloved. I’m going to say this one more time and that’s it. If you don’t tell me who the fuck he is, why the hell you’re dreaming about him, and his history in your life, I’m going to go find him myself for the answers, and you really don’t want that outcome. I have a feeling I won’t have to go farther than that damn strip club, so start talking.”

A tear rolls down her cheek, not fazing me at all, but she quickly wipes it away before it gets far. Another follows. “You’re right. He is the guy from the strip club. You probably know him as the owner, but he’s also the guy I lost my virginity to when I was seventeen. If I tell you more, you aren’t going to want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Try me. I’m a fucked-up kind of guy.”

“He was my mom’s live-in boyfriend.”

My blood runs cold. “There is no way in fucking Hell you’re stopping there.”

Her hands start twisting nervously in her lap. Her body is trembling even though I can tell she’s trying to stop. “M-My mom was a partier, a social lover. She worked constantly my entire life, overtime anytime she could: partly to pay the bills and the other was her play money. She was never around, but it was a life she wanted for herself and was content with. I was the result of an irresponsible weekend out of town, spent drunk. She knows who my father is in the physical sense, but she knows none of his demographics . . . like at all. He was a soldier in a military town for training and she was always out looking for men fishing holes from what I know. She never wanted me, and often she made that known in many different ways. She rarely stayed home. I had plenty of time to myself; more than I ever wanted. I’ve seen an abundance of men come and go in my life. I don’t care to even put a number to it. I got to know every boyfriend she ever had pretty close because she left me with them often. To her, it was a free babysitter. To them it was easy sex and a goodbye to loneliness. She always knew how to pinpoint the ones that needed a woman. Honestly, a lot of them were more of a parent to me than she was, but the second she started cheating on them like she always did they hit the road . . . except Chuck, the youngest of all her boyfriends.”

She looks at me pleadingly, tears still falling down her face, but I make no effort to hint this is the end. “Why do you want to know this?”

“I just do.”

“It’s embarrassing now.”

“I don’t care.”

“He gave me the kind of attention I had never had. Instead of brushing it off I soaked it up. It wasn’t something I was familiar with. Lux and I were so used to being on our own or in the middle of shit that it just became part of what we wanted in messed up ways. When he came on to me he said all the right things, I guess. We ended up having an ongoing affair behind her back until I graduated high school. He fucked her just enough to stay around for me. Some nights I wondered if she secretly knew, because she made sure I heard them, but I think she just noticed the way he looked at me. And I was okay with it because it was better than the alternative. He wasn’t from my hometown. He just stayed there and traveled here for work. He had his own place here, but he pretended with her so he could be with me.”

She dips her head, no longer looking at me. The raging fire inside of me hasn’t dwindled even a degree. The photographic images developing in my head are making me want to kill. That’s never a good thing for people that owe me money. I remain silent as she continues, even though deep down I know I don’t need to hear any more. “We snuck around. We did everything a real couple did just under the radar. On nights I worked, I lied about why I wasn’t coming home and stayed with him here in Atlanta. I fell in love with this city long before Lux and I moved here. It was the one place we could really be ‘us’. And because my mom was self-centered and hung up on juggling so many men and a party life, the stupid bitch didn’t even notice we were always gone at the same time, or that her daughter was fucking her boyfriend. I’m not proud of it, but I don’t completely regret it either. He helped make me the person I am today, freeing me from the girl that always wore her heart on her shoulders. Reasoning doesn’t really matter when you do something that fucked up in life, but I do have a few. Some of it may have been my own fucked up form of revenge, if I were honest, but some of it was real.”

She looks up at me again, her hypnotic green eyes glistening and boring into mine. “I used to be a girl that loved hard. It’s ironic, given that no one loved me. When someone finally gives a loving person love, she falls hard, and in the beginning I did, regardless of the circumstances. It’s easy to think you love someone when he gives you what you need the most. Love doesn’t judge, doesn’t keep record of wrongdoings, and it doesn’t let you choose who you love. It chooses for you. If it did, I would have stopped loving my mother a long time ago. As for Chuck, he was good to me. He was genuine. He gave me ways to take care of myself regardless of what others would have thought of the method. And he always told me there would be times that he had to be with my mother sexually for him to stay there . . . with me. With him there, I never got lonely. It was never a question of unfaithfulness, but sacrifice, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t with other men the whole time. We all used each other for something. It probably would have lasted longer, but the day I graduated he came clean to Mom without my consent, thinking that was the key for us to be together openly. I was no longer a minor at that point or in high school. There was nothing stopping us anymore. She did nothing to him besides find someone even younger, but the second we were alone she slapped me so hard I was almost in tears and said things that can never be forgotten. Then, she kicked me out and told me to never come back, so I packed my things. Lux was glad to leave. I haven’t been back since. I walked away from both of them that day. Me and Lux went on a road trip. This was a stop. When Lux wanted to stay here I just kept it to myself that his club was here and stayed away. Atlanta is a big place. I left behind a man I had let myself fall for over the course of a year and a job that was making me a lot of money during junior and senior year because my guilt won out. That’s it. That’s all there is to know. If you want me to leave, I will.”

“So, you loved him?”

Where the fuck that came from I couldn’t tell you. My ways of trying to understand things I can’t comprehend aren’t like everyone else. I’ll admit the bitterness is obvious.

She breathes out. “In that ‘he’s my first love’ kind of way. I have attachment issues that I’ve hidden from you since you’re the complete opposite. I was serious about wanting this job, so I’ve kept it under control. I tend to cling to the people that give me attention, especially if it’s someone I want in return.”

“Do you still?”

“Love him? No.”

“Then why did you go back?”

“I wanted to keep this job and I was willing to do anything. I knew he’d take me back, even with stipulations. It was an income fix like I told you. I had lost my bartending job and then found an eviction notice on my door when I got home. I didn’t have many options and I’m not a beggar, so I was going to do something I knew would work, including giving myself to a man I no longer wanted for as long as I had to. I like it here. I’ve never lied about what I want. I want this. You just happened in the process.”

I stand and lean forward, placing my fists on the desk to each side of her thighs. “So, you’re trying to tell me this shit we’ve been doing wasn’t a premeditated thought? That’s bullshit. I’m not that stupid.”

“My thoughts in the form of a fantasy and what I know to be real are two different things. I consider myself a realist. After the interview you changed. You seemed disinterested so I took it as a hint. Any hopes I had in an us ended with the day.”

“When are you going to learn that I don’t fit into a fucking category?”

“I guess when you learn you can trust me and stop shutting me out. You expect me to tell you every part of my embarrassing backstory, yet you give me very little of yours.”

“You wouldn’t like what’s below the surface.”

“Just like you don’t like what’s below mine?”

My entire chest moves dramatically as the pace of my breathing picks up. “Who said I didn’t?”

“No one, so stop assuming you know what I like and what I don’t. It works both ways.”

“I don’t fucking like you thinking of other men, past or present.”

She removes her shirt. Fuck. She’s not even wearing a damn bra. She doesn’t really need to. Her rack isn’t that big but it’s perfect. Her nipples are my favorite part. “Then make me forget the past. I can’t control my dreams, but if you brand yourself to every facet of my mind then that’s likely what will become of them. Only you have that power. I can’t force you.”

I fight to stare into her eyes when mine want to go to her chest. My god. Even I have weak points. What man can easily disregard a hot, naked woman? I’m not that strong-willed; not where she’s concerned, apparently. But still, one point remains unknown to me. “Why do you need me to fuck you to know that I want you? What does that prove? I don’t understand this concept at all.”

“Because, Kross, I’m a girl. This is the way that makes us feel wanted. Men were designed to be sexual predators in regard to women. We are the prey. When a man wants a woman, he wants the sex over and over on a regular basis. A girl shouldn’t have to request it. Unless . . .” She zones out, her eyes fixating on something besides mine. “You don’t really want it at all. Am I your shame-fuck? Like do you just feel sorry for me and have sex with me out of pity or obligation since I live with you?” Silence occurs. “Oh, God. I’m so stupid.”

“That’s probably the first accurate thing you’ve said in a while.”

She looks up at me, a little stunned from the expression she’s wearing. “Excuse me?”

My arm forms a vise around her waist. I grip her hip and pull her ass to the edge of the desk, before climbing up her leg with my hand and forcing her panties over her ass as I lift her from the hard surface. Her hands grip the edge to keep her body stationary. “You’re a pretty stupid woman if that’s what you think. You obviously don’t know me as well as you think. I don’t fuck someone out of shame, guilt, or pity. I don’t fuck someone I’m not physically attracted to. I don’t fuck someone unless I feel like I’m going to combust. I don’t fuck someone that I have to physically try for. And unlike most fucking men, sex doesn’t drive me. I don’t need it to survive, to function, or for any other reason.”

She’s breathing heavily. I pull her skirt up her body as her panties fall from her feet to the floor, the elastic waistband stretching as it hits the wider parts. It too hits the floor.

My voice is escalating to dangerous in tone, my teeth gritting together between sentences. “You have to endure touching to like sex, and most women can’t keep their hands out of the picture. My list is short by choice, not because I lacked the skill to lure women into bed.”

I lean forward, pushing her into a lying position on her back. “You want me to trust you with the ugly parts of me? Fine. My entire childhood I was in foster care. None of which were good parents. I was an easy paycheck. I was lucky to get one that didn’t hurt me, but the one that I was with the longest is the same one that drove me to nightmares. Every time I was touched, it was to inflict pain or to torment me, and that’s worse than not being touched at all. She locked me in a bedroom by myself with nothing but school books in her attempt to say I was homeschooled. I’ve lived most of the first half of my life under lock and key, hence the bedroom needing to be locked for me to sleep. If I didn’t pass the required tests, it was immediate punishment. I was physically forced to pretend she provided a good and comforting place to stay so they wouldn’t take me away. I rarely saw the light of day, let alone people.”

I stand and remove my shirt, before returning to my body-hovering position, grabbing her hand and holding it to the lighter scar she’s already familiar with. I’m angry. I’m trapped in an emotional corner. I don’t like discussing my past. I never have and I swore I never would. She stirs things in me that I both loathe and like, and she’s hot; so fucking hot my cock is already straining against the denim of my jeans. “Every fucking scar tells a horror story. Hot lighter.” I move to each one, stating what they are: belt buckle, old baseboard with a nail spike, whip, cigarette, curling wand, key, fork . . . and that’s just the mild ones that are barely noticeable and covered in ink.

She stares at me as I unbuckle my belt and undo my pants, pushing them down with my underwear to my thighs. I lean back over and grip the opposite edge in my hand, then grab her hand again, bringing her fingertips to the deep-set scar beside my dick on my pelvis. “Feel that? I fucking got hard on accident. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about or if it was just part of being a boy, but after checking on me she returned with a knife and stabbed me with it in a shallow jab to make it go away. Didn’t even get a ride to the doctor and a chance to say it was an accident. Had to try to stitch it up myself with an old sewing kit. Anything sinful was forbidden. Her punishments were barbaric to say the least. ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’ was an old Proverb she lived by in the most fucked-up ways.”

I laugh, a sadistic sound coming from my mouth. “But that hard-on was the beginning of more fucked-up shit. People like her are why I’ve never wanted anything to do with that book. My lack of drive is not because I don’t want you, it’s my own fucked up issues. My mind remains in Hell ninety-nine percent of the time. Every time someone touches me for an extended period of time, I fucking lose it. When most people experience touch it’s good. Everything I know was bad. I’d rather go without than have to withstand the way I feel when it happens.”

Her hand turns and she laces her fingers with mine. It feels weird and is taking focus not to pull away. “But sometimes you let me touch you . . .”

She wraps her legs around me, pulling me between her legs. “That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Before you, if I wanted to fuck, I made her turn around and bend over with her hands gripping something hard. I’ve hit a woman for breaking those rules before. I thought for a second she was someone else.”

She stares at me long and hard. “You won’t hurt me. I can feel it. We both have our own issues. Affection scares you and it’s something I need. One day you’ll accept that those demons may be in your head but they’re no longer here. You never have to be in pain with me and your hard exterior will soften, I hope. It’s okay to want me. All you have to say is that you do. I’ve already given myself to you. And you know what? Over time we will fix us, but nothing beneath your surface is ugly. Scars are beautiful, regardless of the horrible way they got there.”

I pull my hand free from hers, the other still clamped tight to the desk. I can see the disappointment on her face immediately. I grab my dick and thrust inside of her, my mouth instantly wrapping around her bare nipple. She’s not doing a very good job of smothering her moans, even though they’re low. A knock sounds at the door, followed by Cassie’s voice. “Kross, your appointment is here.”

My eyes set on Delta’s. “Take her upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I grab both of her hands in both of mine this time, ignoring the weird-ass feeling consuming my body, and bring them above her head to lie on top of the wood surface as I thrust in and out of her.

It amazes me how wet she gets. My dick is drenched from her. It takes a lot more effort to last. Words sway my thoughts from the way it feels inside of her, so I use them. “If you really want this, you’re still going to have to push me, even with sex. I can’t just turn it off. Just because you have to tell me what you want doesn’t mean I don’t want to give it to you in the end. Okay? I’m not programmed to read you like some people can.”

She nods, and then squeezes my hands with hers. “Then I want you to kiss me and fuck me slow,” she says.

I still inside of her. Fuck. I don’t know if I’m capable of slow motion. Coming has always been about speed. I didn’t want sex to last long.

She pulls her hands out of mine and they go for my face, touching against my skin slowly. My eyes slam shut on reflex at first, waiting for the brunt of the pain like I always have, but I open them when I remember who’s touching me. Her eyes never falter. “Try it with me.” She doesn’t raise her voice. “Please. Just try it once. If you don’t like it, you can go back to the way you like it.”

I pull back slowly until my head is at the edge. My breathing becomes heavier as I inch back inside. “Like that,” she says in a thick, breathy voice that is driving me nuts. She pulls my lips toward hers. “I love sex with you,” she adds, in that same damn turned-on voice, before going for my lips.

The bottom of her bare feet brush against my ass as I continue at this pace. Her back arches off the wood, pressing her hardened nipples against my chest. She moans into my mouth when I tilt her hips. Her tongue brushes along the roof of my mouth. Fucking hell. If she doesn’t stop with those noises . . .

Her head rolls back and her eyes close, her hands lightly brushing down my arms until they end behind her head, gripped on the edge of the desk like mine were earlier. Her neck becomes more pronounced, her veins sticking out from her skin.

Every time she tries to mute her voice it only makes it sexier. I’ve never seen a woman look like this during sex. My heart is racing so fast I feel like I can’t breathe. I can see her pulse. I can’t stand it anymore. My teeth sink into the front of her neck as I jar my pelvis against the center of her legs.

The scream of a moan that follows I wasn’t expecting. “I’m coming,” she says in a squeal-like scream. I smother her words with my mouth as I drive inside her one final time.

Yeah . . . me fucking too.