Tug (8 page)

“My heads fucked up right now. I can’t promise you anything except that I’ll probably end up hurting you.”

“I don’t care. Just. Fuck. Me.”

His forehead touches mine and he sighs. “You can’t say things like that.”

Oh, I can say much more than that. I reach down and grip his cock in my hand. He’s big, long, and ready to give me what I crave from him. “Fuck me, Ryan. Mark me. Fill me with your cock and make me cry.”

This time his groan comes so desperately, I know I have him.

His lips skim my jaw, slow and deliberate, as though he’s giving himself a final minute to change his mind. I squeeze the thickness of his shaft, my thumb circling the tip, and let my head fall back. My eyes open when he squeezes my ass and lifts me up into his arms.
Victory!
I scream in my mind, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He pushes me up against the wall forcefully and slams into me without warning. The way he completely fills me causes me to cry out loudly, and I squeeze my eyes shut again.

“Is this what you want?” he asks in a strangled voice.

“Yes, oh, God, yes.”

“Say it again!” he orders.

“Fuck me, Ryan. Fuck me hard.”

His breath hisses, his grip on me tightening, before he slowly withdraws and surges forward convincingly, slamming me back into the shower wall. With every thrust, he hits just the right spot inside me, pushing me closer to ecstasy.

I rarely orgasm with clients — I assume because there’s no emotional connection. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the slow buildup of pressure and the ache of impending euphoria from deep within. I wrench my legs tighter around Ryan’s waist and struggle to stay up. The steady stream of the shower beats against the side of my cheek.

Ryan increases his pace and I moan repeatedly, screaming out his name and pulling roughly on his hair. For Ryan, this moment is a raw and aggressive show of control, erotic, indulgent, and possibly dangerous. There’s a carnality in him that’s insatiable. He’s a man of secular leanings, who commands power, and his reasons stem from whoever it is that made him feel helpless. He fucks like he’s letting me know he’s stronger than me, not only physically, but emotionally. Each time he pushes forward, he does so with a purpose. He’s making a point. I won’t walk away from this unscathed. I won’t be able to forget him. Ryan groans loudly in my ear, and his body goes rigid. He’s close, and so am I.

As I race toward climax, Ryan suddenly pulls out and sets me down. He grips his swollen cock in his hand and strokes himself fast and rough. “Oh, fuck … fuck … What am I’m doing?”

A second later, his back arches, and he releases onto my leg. His fingers glide over my skin through his cum, smearing it up my leg and over my public hair, his expression one of pure disgust, although I can’t decide if it’s with me or himself. Using his index finger, he draws a heart under my navel.
Holy fuck. What the hell is that about?
His head really is
fucked up.

My heart pounds painfully as the realization of my failure sinks in. He runs his hand under the water to wash away the remnants of our moment and steps out of the shower without a word. I sink to the bottom of the tub, confused, unsatisfied, and empty. I’m nothing more than a hooker and an idiot. Did I honestly think I could seduce him into wanting me for a girlfriend? How narcissistic of me, like I would be the best he ever had and he would be mine forever—a white picket fence and a fucking mini-van. I have nothing to offer this guy, absolutely nothing. I’m trash, and he’s gotten exactly what he wanted from me since the moment we met.

Covered with a towel, I exit the bathroom and find my clothes. Ryan is on the bed, dressed, with his elbows resting on his knees. His head is low, and he doesn’t turn to look at me. I don’t understand what went wrong. Last night, he wanted me and when I finally give in, he treats me like he’s repulsed by me.

I get dressed and stare at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I should have used a condom.”

Is that why he’s so upset? “I’m on the pill.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh. Of course. I’m a hooker,” I say with contempt, knowing his concern is with his health, but furious all the same. “I’m clean.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

Without another word, he grabs his keys off the dresser and walks out of the bedroom. Feeling tiny, I follow him to the front door. He holds it open, and I walk through. My lip quivers as we ride the elevator to the parking garage, but I refuse to cry. I’m angry at myself, and I don’t want the tears to come and let him know he hurt me.

W
e exit the freeway on Garnet Avenue, and although I’m confused, I don’t ask where we are going. After a few turns, he pulls into the parking lot for the Catamaran Hotel, and I finally ask, “What are we doing here?”

“Come in for a moment with me. I need to see someone.” His disinterested and flat tone hurts more than it should. After all, he’s just a customer. He paid for our time together. I know the routine, but at least at the club, I can escape when time is up.

I want to tell him to take me home, but my emotions are so jumbled. If I speak, I’ll only end up in tears. We get out of the car and enter the lobby of the hotel. My eyes find the source of the water invading my ears, an expansive stone waterfall, covered in tropical foliage. Hundreds of Birds of Paradise peek out among the plants, adding orange and yellow to the stark green canvas.

Ryan ignores me and talks to the desk clerk. He then takes off down a hall. I follow him to a door, and he knocks. The door opens, and a beautiful girl with long, shiny dark hair opens the door. She’s dressed in bright pink sweats that have the word pink printed down the right thigh. Her lipstick matches her pants. It’s a cheerful color that clashes with the irate look on her face. Ryan walks through, and I stupidly follow him.

“What are you doing here, Tug?” the girl asks, sounding as furious as I expected.

I suddenly can’t breathe and clutch my throat with my hands.
Tug
. Tug is Brady’s little brother. He used to talk about him all the time. Why did he lie about who he is?

“Not now, sis.” Tug holds up his hand. “Where’s Tori? I need to see her.”

The girl moves in front of him, blocking his way. “I don’t think this is a good time.”

He puts his hand on her arm and gently shoves her out of the way. “Liv, don’t try to stop me. I have to see her. She needs to know the truth.”

Liv is Brady’s sister. He used to talk about her, too. What in the hell is going on?

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but today is Brady and Tori’s day. Don’t pull any shit!” Liv yells.

My gaze travels around the room. A wedding dress hangs on a hook on the wall. Oh, my God! This is Brady’s wedding. Ryan/Tug shut down last night after I spoke about Brady. I try to remember what I said. Is he pissed about Brady? I stand there, stupidly still, saying nothing to stop him from crashing his brother’s wedding.

A blonde comes through a door in a white silky robe. She’s gorgeous with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Her pale hair is pulled up with strings of pearls wrapping around her bun. “Tug, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

The desperation in his voice makes me sad, but the expression on his face crushes me. He loves this girl his brother is about to marry.

“Okay. What is it?” she asks him. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Do you remember when Brady disappeared on you the first time?”

She nods.

“And I was there for you until he got back.”

“Yes. What’s the point of all of this? That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, while you were crying your eyes out” — Tug grabs my arm roughly and yanks me in front of Tori — “He was fucking her. Tell her, Maria. Tell her how Brady came to see you, how it was you he was fucking when he left Tori with a broken heart.”

Tori’s eyes widen. Her body goes still. She stares at Tug with something close to hatred but says nothing.

Thick tears well in my eyes. I don’t want to blink, because then they will fall and remind me what a naïve, foolish girl I am. I rip my arm from his grasp and rub the spot that I know will bruise later, leaving me with a reminder of Tug.

“You fucking asshole!” Liv yells, and pushes her palms into Tug’s arm. He doesn’t budge. “Get out of here now.”

Tug takes a few steps backward, raking his hands through his hair.

“Wait!” Tori shouts, and looks at me. “Is your name Maria or Monica?”

My mouth is dry, and I try to swallow. My lips barely open as I answer her. “Monica is a stage name.”

Tori marches toward Tug, anger blistering her features. “Get out of here, and don’t show up at my wedding.”

“You had a right to know.”

“Know what, Tug? That Brady used to be fucked up? I know. He told me about her. How he used to talk to her to vent, how he helped her financially, and how awful he felt when he left me and nearly fucked her.”

“No.” Tug turns to me. “You said …”

I cut him off, ignoring the tears spewing from my eyes. “I said he came looking for more. I never said it happened. He left before it got that far, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Fuck!”

“You used me!” I scream at him.

His indignant laugh is like a knife through my heart, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that comes with his next sentence.

“That’s rich. You’re a hooker.”

He storms out of the room and I fall to the floor, crying hysterically. I realize I’m responsible for ruining Tori’s day, a day that should be the happiest of her life.

I peer up at her through my hair. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea who he was.”

Liv bends over and grabs my arm. “Get up off the floor, sweetheart. You don’t have to be sorry. Tug is an asshole.”

“I don’t blame you,” Tori says softly.

I brush my tears away with the back of my hand. “He told me his name was Ryan, and …”

“Oh, dear,” Liv says, and shoots a look over my shoulder at Tori. “She likes him.”

“I did,” I admit. “But I was foolish. I thought he liked me. A guy like that would never actually fall for me.”

Tori and Liv swap glances. Tori puts her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be so quick to judge. Tug isn’t who he seems.”

I stand without responding. “I’m going to catch a cab to the border. Again, I’m sorry this happened. I wish you the best.”

When I reach the door, I hear Liv say, “Nonsense. You’re not taking a cab. The wedding doesn’t start for a couple of hours. I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

She shoves a hand on her hip and replies, “You’re not asking. Come on.”

I smile. Liv is spunky, and I could see us being friends — if we’d met in another life, of course. Girls like Liv don’t have hooker friends. She loops her arm through mine, and I’m at a loss for how nice she is. Once we’re on the highway, she asks, “Are you going to be okay?”

I nod. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for being so kind to me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Tug’s been through a lot.”

I keep my voice calm, but on the inside I’m fuming mad. “It doesn’t make it right.”

“No, but I thought you should know. My brother used to be a loving free spirit. He’s hilarious and usually the life of any party.”

Curiosity gets me. “What happened?” Then I remember the papers, the headlines about Brady’s mother’s suicide, Liv and Tug’s mother. “Your mom?”

She nods, her expression somber. “We saw it happen. It changed all of us.”

I don’t really know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Even after that, though, Tug was okay.”

I probe, though I know the answer. “Tori?”

Liv sighs. “Tug’s had a crush on her since we were kids. When she chose Brady, he took it hard, but accepted it. It’s a long story, but Brady and Tori lost a baby. To make the situation worse, a girl from Brady’s past showed up shortly after with Drew. Tori was really depressed and left Brady for a long time. Tug found her, and they slept together. Tori ended up pregnant again.”

“Tug thought it was his?” I ask, assuming that’s what must have happened.

“Yep, but it’s Brady’s. Tori and Brady got back together, and Tug hasn’t been the same since.”

That explains his anger about not using a condom. I’m still pissed that he played me the way he did, though I’m also annoyed with myself for being stupid.

“We all go through shit. I have, but I would never be cruel to others because of it.”

“True,” Liv agrees, “but we all handle our shit in a different way.”

Liv has a point. I can’t say I know where my head would be if I’d watched my mother blow her brains out.

“None of this matters anyway. He doesn’t want me.”

“I only told you because I don’t want you to feel badly about yourself. Tug is in a shitty place, and his actions today have nothing to do with you.”

Little does Liv know my feeling bad about myself started long before Tug. We reach the border, and I instruct Liv to pull into a U. S. parking lot so I can cross the border over the foot bridge.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I don’t mind driving you.”