Raw (39 page)

If he wanted my interest, he certainly just got it.

But I’m confused. “He never mentioned you.”

Julius nods. “I suspect he wouldn’t. We met in juvie. It’s not exactly a nice tale. Definitely not one you wanna tell to try and impress your girl.”

He searches my face. I suddenly feel like a child when I whisper, “Tell me about him. Please.”

“That’s part of why I’m here. There’s some things you need to know about him. About why to not give up on him. Do you know why he was in juvie?” I nod and he says, “He was in a bad way when he got to me. He’d been in for about three days and no one could calm the boy down. He was picking fights with anyone and everyone. So much anger in him. Never seen anything like it. Almost like he was a wild animal they were trying to cage.” He smirks. “He caught my eye. I’d been in there two years when he came, so I knew the way of things and knew if he kept this up, he’d catch the eye of the guards. And their punishments. Well, let’s just say that they would’ve torn him a new asshole. Pun intended.”

I don’t know if I can hear this.

Julius continues, “One day in the quad, he picked a fight with the wrong kid. Small kid. Looking like he’d easily take a beating. But the kid was skilled. I jumped in before Twitch got his ass beat, and he repaid me by giving me a black eye. So that night, when we went back to our dorms to sleep, I stayed up. Waited ‘til the lights were out, got my shank out of its hiding spot, and went to find Twitch. He was sleeping. Having bad dreams. I snuck up on him, put the shank to his throat, and woke him up by slapping him clean across the face.”

“He jumped up, saw the shank, and stilled.” His eyes become soft. And depressed. “It was the saddest thing I ever saw. Like he was at peace with dying. I told him that he could fight me all he wanted, but he needed to choose a side. With me or against me. He didn’t say a word for a long time before he asked me what I was in for. So I told him honestly that I’d killed my dad.”

Enthralled in this tale, I gasp. Julius looks at me with a sad smile.

“He asked why I killed my daddy. I told him I caught him raping my sister.”

My heart is breaking for this man. The familiar sting of tears forming in my eyes begins, and Julius catches me trying to cover them.
 

“See that?” He says, pointing to my watery eyes, “That’s why he needs you.”
 

Clearing his throat, he goes on with his story. “So, Twitch decides he’s with me. I lowered my shank and we became friends in a second flat. There’s a trust there between us. I can’t really explain it. We were both kids, but I was curious and felt I had to ask him. So I did. I asked him why he was so angry. He told me when he was eight, his step-daddy tried to kill him. Choked the life out of him. He was dead for fourteen minutes before they brought him back. Said he had minor brain damage, and some doctors even said that’s where his anger stems from. I told him that he was right to be angry about that. He shook his head and corrected my assumptions. He said, ‘No. I’m angry because I didn’t die.’”

Swirling my chair around, I turn my back to Julius.

It’s a very private moment when your heart breaks. I don’t want him to see. I suddenly wish I was alone.

Breathing through a thick throat, I try in vain to keep the tears at bay.
 

Julius says, “He thinks of everybody as nobody. If you don’t give up on him, he’ll make you somebody.”

Covering my face with a hand, I feel the warmth of my tears flow over my palm as I listen to my office door open, then close. I think the words I can’t bring myself to say right now.

Thank you, Julius.

Coming home from a night out with Dave and Nikki, I unlock the door to my unit, and as soon as I step inside, I kick my heels off.

I have no idea why we women wear these things.

They’re just modern-day torture devices.

The only reason I wore these was because they were the bright red fancy ones Twitch bought me. To match the tight little black dress that he also bought me. And the red leather clutch and ruby red crystal pendant to match. All on Twitch’s expense.
 

Yikes.

I’m pretty sure my outfit tonight alone cost around a thousand dollars. Which is ridiculous if you ask me.

I needed a night with my girls. I say that without offence. Dave named himself one of us from the time we were in University together. So much love there.

I’m hungry.

I’m also drunk.

Holding onto the hallway wall for support, I take teeny tiny steps down to my room. Putting on some music, I sing along to Carrie Underwood’s
Blown Away
. Such a sad song.

“Sad song. I don’t want a sad song. I need something bouncy,” I tell myself.

Teetering on the spot, I point carefully at the buttons and search my playlist. Landing on The Fray’s
Love Don’t Lie
, I whoop and bounce along to the beat. Reaching onto my dresser for my hair brush, I brush through the bird’s nest that is my hair and think back on the night.

I met Dave and Nikki at the bar and sat on a rickety stool exchanging kisses and hugs. We spoke about what we got up to during the week, what was new and our relationships. Which was just weird, because it went a little like this…

I told them, “Everything with Twitch is good right now. He’s complicated and all, but he’s different with me. He treats me well. He likes to spoil me and I’m loving him more every day. So it’s going well, I guess.”

Nikki and Dave smiled sweetly at me. I’m so glad my friends are behind me on this. It matters so much to me.

Then Dave looked at Nikki and uttered, “How do you think things are going with Happy?”

She shrugged. “Good. I guess. The sex is bangin’, and I know he likes women, but…” She grinned up at Dave. “…I like watching Dave and him together. It’s hot.”

Dave nudged her playfully. “Naww, thanks babe. I like watching you guys fuck too. Pussy isn’t my cup of tea, but watching anyone get off is hot.”

I gaped at their strange choice of conversation.
 

Nikki giggled, “Oh, I especially like when he…” She leaned closer to Dave and whispered something into his ear. Dave bit his lip before muttering, “I like that too.”

Raising my arm to match my brows, I hailed a bartender and placed an order, “I need about eleventeen cocktails to erase the last five minutes of fucked-up-ness. What would you suggest?”

Nikki and Dave just smirked like a couple of cats that got the cream while I squirmed.

We drank. And talked. And drank some more.

Then the conversations turned to things more my speed.

Dave slurred, “You know what’s a weird word?” Nikki and I waited with baited breath.

“Pants. Why are the plural? Yes, there are two legs but it’s only one piece of clothing. It’s a pant for chrissake!”

Murmurs of approval went around. That’s when I asked, “I don’t like that. It’s the same thing with Weetbix. Why is a single one called a Weetbix? It’s a Weet
bik
if it’s one, right?”

Dave sipped on his cocktail, nodding. “This is why we’re friends.”

Nikki slapped the bar in excitement. “I got one! Why are they called scissors then?”

Dave and I gave her our best
mind blown
looks and nodded in agreement.

I love my friends.

Shaking my head at our silliness at the bar, I bebop around my bedroom to the song playing on my expensive-ass stereo.

Turning, I squeak at the black shadow in front of me. Taking in a deep breath, I open my mouth to scream, when arms wrap around me and I smell him.

Silly Twitch. Sneaky, silly Twitch with his creeping, lurking, and skulking.

Melting into him, I blurt out the first thing I think of. “Why don’t you use the belt on me anymore?”

Wow. That sounded a lot more desperate than planned.

Pulling back, he responds, “Because I’m sure you won’t try to run now.”

Hmmm. Well, I guess that makes sense. In a fucked up kind of way. I guess.
 

Insert pout here.

He asks an amused, “Are you drunk?”

I scoff. “No. I just had…” I mentally count. “…six Long Island Iced Teas and a shot of tequila. I’m fine.”

As I say this, my knees give out and Twitch holds me up like a doll. He kisses my brow affectionately. “You want me to get the belt?”

I respond breathily, “Yeah.”

Setting me on my bed, I watch as he walks over to his pants on the floor, removes the belt from the loops, and stalks back over to me. Whoa. He does something to my head. Every freaking time. Normally, thoughts would lurk in the thing I call a brain. Right now, all I hear is a high-pitched whistling noise.
 

We are officially off the air.

 
In my alcohol-uninhibited state, I ask, “I want to try something new tonight.”

He stops halfway to me. Wrapping his belt around his hand nice and tight is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “Oh yeah? What’s that, Angel?”

Crooking my finger, he comes closer to me. I kneel up on my bed and cup my hands around his ears to whisper, “Role play.”

He sniffs a laugh. “Sure. I’m down for that.”

Suddenly nervous, I lean back and dip my chin. “You’ll think I’m weird. That I’m not normal.”

He returns with, “Fuck normal. Who’s to say what’s normal. Labels, babe. That’s all they are. Tell me, baby.” But my mouth won’t open. “C’mon, Lex. I won’t judge you.” But I can’t. That’s when he asks quietly, “You wanna try what Ling was doing?”

I’m so ashamed. I cover my face with my hands as my heart races.

His fingers come under my chin and lift. I drop my hands to accept my fate. Looking into my worried eyes, he kisses me softly before saying, “As soon as I put this belt around your neck, it’s on.”

How did he make that so easy for me? And why do I want this so badly? Both of those thoughts circle my head. My thinking time is cut short when he works the thick black belt around my neck. Looking up at him, mouth parted slightly, he watches me carefully. Buckling on the tightest notch possible, he takes his time, giving me an opportunity to refuse.
 

But I won’t.
 

I can’t.
 

I need this.

Something inside of me desires Twitch’s approval, and has from that very first day.

The moment he releases me, he searches my face. I know the exact moment he turns into his character. My attacker. I know this, because his hooded eyes darken and his lip curls cruelly. He wraps the remainder of the belt around his hand tightly, yanking hard. I yelp as my body is crushed against his strong naked torso. A large hand firmly palms my ass through my little black dress. The touch isn’t warm or affectionate. It’s so unfamiliar that I feel this man isn’t even Twitch.

But isn’t that part of the appeal? That at this very moment, we can become two different people. People we never would be or become.
 

It’s absolutely thrilling. My heart races and I begin to sweat.

Breathing heavily, I steady myself as much as I can, slide off my bed, and stand in front of him. Twitch taunts, “Move and I fuckin’ kill you, bitch,” then pulls the belt slowly but firmly closer towards his body. The move makes us impossibly close.

Right now, I believe him; he could hurt me, even though I know this is a game. Right now, Twitch is the most alluring man on earth, as well as the most terrifying.

It all happens so quickly.

His silky boxers are gone. I tremble as he grips the front of my dress, fisting it tight. He looks me in the eye as he pulls with all his might in opposite directions. The sound of material tearing fills the room before it falls at my feet in a heap. I openly gape at him.

I liked that dress.

Now dressed in only a strapless bra and a lace thong, my mind swims in an ocean of bliss as he yanks my bra down below my breasts. The move pushes them high up on my chest, and in the slither of moonlight through the closed curtains, I see his eyes fixed on them. Looking like a starving man eyeing his first meal in months, he steps out of character only a moment to run his thumb down the swell of my breast and mutter, “Perfect. So perfect.”

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he looks down at me through hooded eyes and whispers roughly, “I’m gonna fuck you bare.” My heart stutters. In a good way. He smirks. “Gonna blow inside of you. And you’re going to like it.”

Cue my first line. “No. Don’t. Please don’t. I’ll get pregnant.”

He barks a laugh. “Perfect.” Crushing his lips to my cheek, he utters against it, “Every time you looked at him, you’d see me.” Biting my cheek none too gently, he hisses, “You don’t stop shaking and I’ll make you choke on my cock.”

It’s almost worrying that he can do this so well.
 

Almost.

Lowering my voice to a whisper, I beg, “Please let me go. I’ll never tell anyone about this. Just let me go.”

Grinding his impressive length against my stomach, he reaches down to rub my mound through the lacey material. He tuts, “Bitches like you don’t wear shit like this if you don’t want a man to fuck you. I’m a man, baby. I’m going to fuck you. Whether you want it or not.”