Tempting BAD: VIP Spin Off (8 page)

He started squeezing her neck harder up against the wall and her face started paling. Her eyes were closing and her body was getting sluggish…

“MOM!” I screamed, sitting straight up in bed and gasping for air. I breathed in and out rapidly. I couldn’t catch my breath fast enough and my heart was beating out of my chest.

“Fuck!” I yelled again.

I pulled the sheets off my body and quickly got out of bed; I was drenched in sweat. I looked over at the clock—four AM. I wiped at the sweat on my forehead and then my face, trying to calm myself down to no avail. The dreams were getting worse and more intense, as if I were there, reliving it all over again.

I turned on the shower, leaving it on cold; I knew it was the only thing that would calm me. The icy freeze would shock my system and bring me back to reality.

I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

And maybe I never did…

A year had gone by and I started my senior year of high school.

“Mmm… you smell good,” Landon said into the back of my neck.

I laughed. “Landon, I need to get up. I have to go.”

“No, stay with me. Let’s have a sleepover.”

“Right… because that’s going to work so well with my parents. Come on, it’s late I need to get home.”

“Come on, baby, just tell them that you’re staying with my sister. Please...” he begged.

The truth was, I didn’t want to spend the night. I knew I could lie to my parents and they wouldn’t think twice about it, but I didn’t want Landon becoming more attached than he already was. It didn’t matter how many times I told him we weren’t serious and we were just having fun, he didn’t believe me. He didn’t want to believe me. I caught him introducing me as his girlfriend to some people I had never met at the party that night, and the more time we spent together, the more he kept telling me he loved me.

“Landon, let go!” I yelled, annoyed.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Brooke, I’m sick of this shit.”

I rolled my eyes; here we go again.

“What is your problem?” I shouted, grabbing my panties and bra.

“You! You’re my fucking problem. What? Am I just your fuck buddy like you constantly love to remind me?”

“Oh my God, why are we always talking about this? I’m so sick of talking about this. I’m going home, Landon, not going to war, so I’ll see you later. Why do you always have to put a label on shit? Why can’t we just be?” I questioned, pulling my skirt up and then putting my shirt on.

“Are you serious? You have the balls to ask me that? Of course, you do because your balls are so much bigger than mine. You act like a man, Brooke, not the woman I love and want to be my fucking girlfriend.”

I rolled my eyes again. “I told you I don’t want that. I want no part of that and I’ve told you since day one. I haven’t lied to you so stop playing the victim; you’re no good at it.”

He jerked back, hurt. “Really? You want to talk about being victims? No one can play it like you can, baby,” he viscously spewed.

“Fuck you!”

“I already did that! Come to think about it, that’s all we ever do. That’s the only goddamn time you will let me get close to you. You won’t even hold my fucking hand in public, let alone have me kiss you. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to have you turn away from me when I want to touch you and we’re around my friends? They think I’m an idiot and that you’re a bitch. They think I’m wasting my time on you and that you’re not worth it. Can you think of me and how I feel when they say this to me? Huh?” He stepped closer to me until we were a foot apart. “For once, can you think about my feelings?”

“I am thinking of your feelings, and that’s exactly why I like things the way they are. There are no complications that way.”

“Complications for whom? Because I want nothing more than for you to tell me you love me, Brooke. I tell you all the time how much I love you and how much it pains me to see that you’re not the same person anymore. You haven’t been since that night.”

My eyes widened.

“Yeah, Brooke, the night we don’t speak of, ever. I’m sorry that—”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m out of here!” I yelled, grabbing my car keys and purse. He grabbed my arm as I was opening his bedroom door and roughly shut it in front of me, turning me around to face him and caging me in.

“Hell no! You’re not running away from this. You’re not running away from me. You want to point fingers about me playing victim? Why don’t you look in the mirror, Brooke, because that’s all you do!” he sneered, making me hold my chin up higher.

“I’m so sick of this shit. For an entire year, I have done nothing but be at your beck and call, waiting and praying for you to finally let me in and be with me.”

“I am with you!”

“Fuck that! You give me your body, you give me your pussy,” he countered, cupping my sex. “When are you going to give me this?” he asked, placing his hand over my heart. “Huh? I want it so fucking bad, baby; you have no idea how much I want it. I want it more than anything. What do I have to do? What more can I do?”

I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. “I’m not made like that.”

“Bullshit! Just because your dad has another life doesn’t mean you can’t have a normal one. How do you not see that? What is it going to take for you to realize that I’m not him? I won’t hurt you. I would die before I would ever hurt you.”

“You know nothing about me or my family. NOTHING!” I screamed, turning, but he held me firmer.

“I know everything, I know how you love to be touched, I know what makes you smile, I know how to make you laugh, and I know what makes you cry. I know that your dad loves your mom and that he loves his children…
all of them
,” he stated, emphasizing the words.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Brooke, why don’t you just tell them? Why can’t you just tell them that you know? Maybe it would help you. Keeping it bottled up inside has done something to you and it gets worse and worse every fucking day; the more time goes by, the more I lose you. The more everyone does. Please…” he whispered, placing his forehead on mine.

“I’m fine. I will be fine. My parents have nothing to do with it.”

He shook his head. “They have everything to do with it. You shut me out. You shut everyone out.”

“Landon, let me go. I want to go home,” I countered, trying to break free of his hold.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? It doesn’t matter what I say or what I do, it’s always going to be this way, isn’t it?” He paused. “Answer the fucking question… isn’t it!”

“YES! I don’t love you! I don’t believe in it and I want no part of it! So if this isn’t good enough for you, then it’s over.”

He stepped back and I had never seen him look so hurt, so defeated.

I turned and opened the door.

“No, baby,” he announced, stopping me. “I’m tired of you turning your back and walking out on me.” He stepped in front of me. “It’s my turn,” he declared, walking out the door, and leaving me alone.

Exactly how I wanted him to.

A year went by since I had taken over the bar. I learned a lot in that short amount of time; the first and foremost being to never fuck your employees. I know that seemed like it would be common sense, but it wasn’t. I learned that lesson the hard way. The bar was as profitable as it was manageable. The years of working as a bartender shaped me in a way that made what I was doing now much easier.

The bar literally landed in my lap. I was able to pay for Lauren’s college for graduate school and she was twenty-two years old. And Alexis had followed in my footsteps, attending UF at nineteen years old. She wanted to pledge Tri Delta but Mom told her we couldn’t afford it; sororities were crazy expensive, especially ones at UF. I hated seeing her upset and decided to turn the bar into a nightclub from Thursday through Sunday. I went from working somewhat normal hours to working around the clock.

But Alexis got to pledge and was accepted into the sorority. The smile on her face was worth it to me. Besides… I never slept anyway, so the night owl hours worked for me. Liv just turned sixteen and I bought her a used Honda that had 30,000 miles on it and was in mint condition; it looked brand new. She also wanted to join the drama club at school and I was able to pay for her to have a hobby that she was so passionate about.

My mom’s house needed a new roof and I added a four hundred square foot patio and four hundred square foot pool to the bid. Mom was pissed when she found out but quickly changed her tune when it was finished. I also insisted that she only work part-time so that she could enjoy her new addition. That battle took a few weeks to win once she finally gave in.

I upgraded my apartment and rented a place on South Beach, next to Collins Street that was within walking distance from my bar. It was a two bedroom, two bath, and I split the rent with my buddy from college, Alex. He was rarely ever home and spent most of his time with his girlfriend, Tammy. I didn’t understand why they didn’t live together, but he said she wasn’t that kind of girl, which made no sense because he stayed with her most nights anyway.

All in all, taking over the bar was the best decision I had ever made.

“Hey, my name is Lola.”

Did I mention the women?

Yeah… I got pussy thrown at me like a goddamn rock star.

“Hey there, Lola; what can I get you, beautiful?”

She giggled. “I’ll take a screaming orgasm,” she panted with a raised eyebrow.

I cleared my throat. “One screaming orgasm coming up.”

She licked her lips and leaned over the bar, leaving her ample cleavage displayed for me. “Promise?” she murmured.

Yeah… so I took her home.

What? I’m a man.

I said I learned not to fuck the help, not the customers…

“God, you’re so fucking hot. I bet you could make me scream your name without even trying,” she purred to the side of my neck, leaning against my door as I tried to unlock it.

Women often said I was good looking, with my dark eyes, tan skin, and short black hair. I was about 6’1” and usually sported a five o’clock shadow, not because I was trying to seem edgy or mysterious like women called it… mostly because I never slept and worked like crazy. I made time to work out, though; it was the only way I could work out my frustrations, and so my build was impressive, as they loved to call it.

I made her walk backward in front of me until her back hit my bedroom door and she immediately reached for my face. I simultaneously grabbed her wrists and extended them to the door over her head.

She breathed out her arousal.

Here was the thing about having sex with me; I had to be in control. It wasn’t because I wanted to turn a woman on. Yes, women fucking loved a man in control; it would make them turn into a dog in heat. But that wasn’t why I was like that. It was from my fear that I would hurt them if I weren’t in control.

When I was in therapy, I had disclosed to my therapist that I couldn’t release any sort of control when I was being intimate with a woman. Even when they were on top, my hands would still be on their hips or the back of their necks, guiding them and controlling the sway of their bodies as they rocked on my cock. She thought it was dominance, and I never had the courage to correct her.