Authors: Charity Ferrell
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Coming of Age, #Romance, #Contemporary, #New Adult & College
PRETTY AND RECKLESS
2015 by Charity Ferrell
This book is copyrighted under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use is prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to locales, actual events, persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Mayhem Cover Creations
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“She had a mind like a box of fireworks and hands that played recklessly with the matches.”
“I’m surprised they sent you,” I said, stopping in front of him.
“Why’s that?” He asked, curiously.
“They usually don’t send men because I fuck them.”
His eyes widened. “I can assure you that won’t be happening.”
I smiled wickedly. “You sure about that?”
My decision-making rights card needed to be revoked. Every choice I made in my life was the wrong one. Pandemonium crept around, following me like a shadow, and waited for its every opportunity to sweep in and fuck up my life more.
Like now, for instance, I was crouched down and hiding in an abandoned alley at three o’clock in the morning with snow up to my ankles. I had a swollen eye, a busted lip, and who knows what else wrong with me. I took a timid look to my left and then my right, making sure I hadn’t been spotted.
I cringed, noticing the dried-up blood caked beneath my fresh manicure when I went to open up my clutch. It took me a few attempts with my shaking hands, but I finally managed to get it open. My dad’s arrogant voice rang through my ears, magnifying my headache, as I rifled through my things.
“The only things open at three in the morning are legs, baby girl.”
I hated when he was right.
I shoved away a wad of cash, a tube of lipstick, and a pair of back-up panties before finding my phone. The screen shined bright as I slid my finger across it.
I had five missed calls from Oliver.
How dare him have the nerve to call me?
How dare him only call me five times?
I was the reigning queen of contractions.
I ignored his calls and scrolled down my contacts list. I squinted a few times, struggling to focus with just one working eye, and finally managed to tap my best friend, Holly’s name.
Pick up. Pick up.
I cried out in frustration when it went straight to voicemail. I loved the girl, but she never kept her damn phone on. She was about as responsible as I was, and that wasn’t saying much.
It was probably a blessing in disguise that she didn’t answer. She was most likely with her boyfriend, and considering he was Oliver’s best friend, it wouldn’t have been very smart on my part to tell her my hiding spot.
I cursed at the full moon when I glared up at it. My stomach twisted, churning into coils, as I thought about calling him. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew my resources were limited. Unless I wanted to land in tomorrow’s blogs, he was my only hopeful option. I took a deep inhale of courage and hit a name I thought I’d never dial.
“Hello?” His voice was drowsy on the other end. I felt bad for waking him up and dragging him into my mess, but me collapsing on the pavement and sleeping off my pain wasn’t going to be happening. I needed a ride and I needed that ride quick.
“Weston?” I croaked out.
“Yes?” He asked, confusion lacing with his words. I knew he didn’t have my number so he probably thought he was getting drunk dialed by some random chick.
“It’s Elise,” I explained, shuddering when I brushed my cold fingers over my throat and skimmed them over the deep scratches along my skin. “You’ve gave me your card at the coffee shop.”
He cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?”
“Not exactly.” I rubbed a hand up my arm in an attempt to create some body heat.
“Okay,” he drew out. “Were you calling to talk about something?”
“Yeah, this isn’t a verbal kind of help.” He wasn’t going to like this. “It’s more along the lines of giving me a ride.”
The easiest answer to my dilemma would’ve been to snag a few bills from my bag and hail a cab. I’d done it dozens of times, but not tonight. No, I couldn’t do it in my state. Any decent cab driver would’ve either known
I was, or drive me to the closest emergency room. I couldn’t have that happening.
“You need to be more specific,” he told me.
My shoulders sagged in relief that he was at least considering it. “I’m stranded.”
“In an alley.” He mumbled out low-pitched words I couldn’t make out. “And I need a ride from said alley,” I added, quickly.
“An alley where?”
My hand flew to my mouth, blocking out a scream, when something scurried across my feet and dashed behind the dumpster next to me.
“In the city,” I screeched, stomping my feet to scare away any other varmints.
I gave him directions. I hadn’t run too far from Oliver’s apartment because I’d consumed all of my energy trying to escape. I’d sprinted through his living room wearing only a single heel like my name was Cinderella, except the man chasing me was no prince charming. I’d flown down his stairwell, deciding against the elevator, and bumped into the cold night. I dodged bodies until I made it into the alley.
Did I think Oliver could still hurt me? Yes.
Did I think he’d kill me?
The dumbass didn’t have the balls or the skills to dispose of my body and get away with it.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said, and I could hear movement in the background. “Get out of the alley and into the open where you’re visible.”
“Okay.” I slid my feet through the slush in hesitation before moving. I was trying to hide from someone. Leaving the alley would mess with my plan. “Fuck it,” I grumbled, pushing off of the brick wall. The chances that Oliver was still out looking for me were slim. He was too lazy for that. The asshole didn’t like to work for anything.
The hard whish of the cold wind knocked against my skin as I migrated from the alley to the sidewalk. I kept the phone clutched to my ear while I moved along the sidewalk. I only made it a few steps before I had to stop and rest. I leaned back against the building, and the brick scraped along my back as I scooted across it until I made it underneath the awning.
My breath puffed out in front of me when I looked down my body to take in tonight’s outfit of choice. A short, strapless dress stopped just a few inches from my vagina, and I was wearing only one strappy, open-toed stiletto heel. As per usual, I’d chosen slutty over practical when Oliver had picked me up from my place, but I’d intended for my clothes to be off in minutes, (which they were), and I’d be laid up in his bed for the rest of the night. I hadn’t foreseen myself being stranded alone in the middle of the night freezing my ass off with a busted lip.
“Are you ready for this cock, baby?” Oliver asked, sliding his hand up and down his dick. His blood-shot eyes fixated on my bare breasts when I straddled his hips. I licked my lips, looking down at him and nodded. “Now fuck me,” he rasped.
His mouth fell open when my hands replaced his, wrapping around his thickness, and rubbing him against my wet folds. “You’re so fucking wet for me,” he said. “You’re always so fucking wet when you see my dick.”
I rose up, situating his head directly in line with my opening and thrust myself down in one quick movement, so he filled me completely. I grinned wide when I felt his cock jerk against my walls. I loved this power. I loved being in charge. He was bowing down to my pussy and it thrilled me.
Lust after me, asshole.
“Fuck yeah,” he grunted, moving his hips. I moaned, my hands falling forward to level myself at the same time he snagged a nipple between his lips and sucked hard.
Fuck, that felt good. I gripped the sheets, riding him harder until I felt something, something that wasn’t right, and that something pissed me the fuck off.
My head went blank as I gripped the cheap fabric in my hand. I stopped riding him while he continued to thrust up underneath me with his eyes closed, clueless to what was about to happen.
“You fucking asshole!” I screamed, slapping him across the face.
His eyes shot open. “
, baby, you want to play it rough tonight? I like it.” He rammed his hips up, grabbing my waist, and slammed me down against him.
I held in a deep breath. The feel of him inside of me was so good, but I had to stand my ground. I couldn’t succumb to his dick when I was this pissed off.
He coughed when I shoved the dirty panties in his mouth. “What the fuck?” He yelled, spitting them out.
My hand burned when it came into contact with his cheek again. “Whose are those?” I fumed. “And why do your sheets stench of rotten pussy?” He grunted, his chest caving in, when I pushed away from him and slid off of the bed. I grabbed my dress and pulled it over my head. “Fuck you, you stupid, cheating asshole.”
He smacked his palm against the bed, his cock still in full force, and groaned. “Elise, baby, it’s not what it looks like.” He patted the space next to him. “You’re overreacting. Get back in bed. You know you want this dick.”
“I don’t want shit,” I said, forcing myself to look away before I caved. I snagged one of my heels from the floor while searching for the other.
He picked up the panties, held them above his face to examine them. “I’m pretty sure these are …”
“Don’t you dare say they’re mine,” I yelled, looking at the panties. “I have an ass, and I don’t wear cheap, polyester G-strings. You could’ve at least cheated with a girl who wore decent fucking underwear.”
He finally pulled himself up from the bed, the muscles in his chest protruding in the process, grabbed his pants and slid them on without bothering to buckle them. He thought he was going to talk his way out of this. And I didn’t blame him. Oliver looked like a model, had a bank account like he worked on Wall Street, and a dick like a porn star.
He rushed forward in an attempt to stop me, capturing my elbow, and gripping it tightly. “Take me home,” I demanded. He took a step forward, and I took a step back.
“Please baby, just calm down and talk to me,” he pleaded. I shook my head and fell against the wall when he pushed me back roughly. “You’re not leaving until you hear me out.”
I tried to catch my breath. “We don’t need to talk about anything. Take me home.”
He crowded me. We were nose-to-nose, mouths just inches apart, and squaring each other up. Nobody said no to a Hatfield. Oliver knew that. His family name was as powerful as mine. Both of us were ready for the battle that was about to happen. Or I thought I was.
I could count the number of boyfriends I’ve had on one hand, if that’s what you’d call them, and every single one had been a cheating asshole. Always. It was inevitable. I blamed it on the type of men I dated and the fact that I wasn’t intelligent enough to choose a different type. Random men you go home with from nightclubs, or country club assholes your dad sets you up with are never serious boyfriend material. You’re just asking to get cheated on.
And honestly, that relieved me. It was a get-out-of jail free card. When they cheated, it gave me a reason to dispose of them. We’d never last. We’d never fall in love, have some ridiculous over-priced wedding, and drive a mini-van lugging our two point three children around. We were using each other, getting what the other could provide momentarily until someone else came along.
“Where are you at?” He asked, his voice startling me. “I’m turning up to the corner.”
I made out the bright headlines pulling up to the curb. “What are you driving?” I asked, in precaution. I couldn’t exactly approach a random card on the corner, given that I looked like a two-bit beat-up whore.
“Black SUV. I just flashed my lights.”
“Got it.” I walked away from the building and headed in his direction. I hopped on one foot towards the car, my ribs stabbing my skin with each bounce, as my need for being inconspicuous was replaced with fear of losing a toe to frostbite.
I looked up at the sound of a door slamming. “What the hell?” He asked, joining me underneath the streetlight. “Where’s your shoe?”
I felt my weight loosen when he grabbed my arm, wrapped it around his shoulder, and pulled me up from the ground. He kept me balanced against his shoulder with my feet hovering a few inches above the snow until we made it to his car.