Tempting BAD: VIP Spin Off (45 page)

It made me sick, as much as it made me whole.

It ended now.

“All of it. I want you to stay the night; I want to wake up to your pussy riding my cock. How do you feel about that? Gorgeous, I miss you.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I miss you, too,” I recited the words that I knew by heart.

Never did I mean them, until I said them to Devon.

Words can’t hurt you, unless you let them. And I knew they were slowly destroying him behind me. I could feel his hurt and pain, the damage that I was causing with the simple, yet pungent delivery of my performance. His feelings ran rapid all around me. I spun in it, hoping to feel comfort, but instead all I could feel was remorse.

I could feel his warmth.

His love.

His kindness.

And his passion for me; only me.

I felt like I was standing, seconds away from being thrown into the death chamber. It was hard to breathe. I couldn't think clearly.

Except, it wasn’t my execution.

It was Devon’s.

I was the slaughterer.

I held his whole world in the palm of my hand, and I knew it. It’s where his heart was; I owned that, too. I closed my eyes, and spoke with conviction, about to push him into the flames and never see him again.

“How much do you want to fuck me?” I panted, heavily breathing every word. “Do you want me to swallow your come?” I viscously spewed into the phone, knowing that he could hear everything. “Do you have any idea how hard you make me come? How good it feels when you’re deep inside me?” I stopped, not being able to carry on, biting my cheek till I tasted blood.

I could not cry.

I could not show weakness.

I could not show emotion, or how I truly felt.

It was the right thing to do.

I needed to free him.

I was not my father.

“I’m going to fuck you all night… so that I can’t walk tomorrow, would you like that?” I baited.

“You have no idea—” My cellphone was roughly ripped out of my hands, and thrown against the wall. It shattered into pieces.

Exactly how my heart was about to.

I would never expect what would happen next. Not in a million years.

He crudely pulled me away from the window, before the final pieces of my cellphone splattered all over my hardwood floors. He shoved me up against the wall; my back hit it with a thud, knocking all the air from my lungs.

“What the fuck?” I screamed out, profusely trying to catch my breath. He didn’t give me a chance to recover, or even acknowledge what the hell was happening, before he came at me. I tried to fight him off, but he was stronger than I was. He wasn’t being gentle or sweet, not the Devon that I knew and loved. I didn’t know this man who was aggressively manhandling me to the point of leaving bruises.

“Devon, calm down,” I begged, being able to step toward him, but he didn’t falter, he pushed me up against the wall. His hands were firmly placed over my heart. This time my head had collided with the wall, and I was seeing stars.

“Shhh…” he locked my hands above my head, cutting off my circulation. He grabbed my throat, placing my head securely against the wall… the same place my skull had knocked.

My eyes swiftly opened when I felt his hold around my windpipe, leaving me with barely any air. It took a few more seconds for my eyes to register his face.

That’s when I noticed it.

Devon wasn’t standing in front of me.

A glimpse of his father was.

“And what exactly is that, Bambi? Huh? Is it the fact that we love each other? Is that the problem?” I argued, having enough of the bullshit and lies.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. Completely caught off guard with what I shared, and called her out on. Her cellphone rang again, and her eyes found the sound, but they quickly made their way back to me when it stopped ringing.

“I don’t love you, Devon,” she boldfaced lied. “I’m sorry… I care deeply about you, but I don’t love you.”

I watched her…

I watched her every move.

From her glazed over eyes that wanted to cry.

To the sound of her voice that she prayed wouldn’t break apart.

The way she pressed her fingernails into her hand to keep herself together.

And most importantly, the sounds of her breathing and heart that I heard even with the distance between us.

She knew that I could read her like a goddamn book, and that’s when she reached over to grab her cellphone that was ringing again.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” I heard the voice say on the other end.

“Hi,” she lured, not looking at me, but at the floor instead.

“I want to play… do you want to play?” he inquired, almost knocking me on my ass.

The same words she has said to me countless times.

The same phrase she has said to men countless times.

She stepped out of her kitchen and strode over to her living room. I didn’t step away from the door. I was glued to the floor that felt like it was caving beneath me.

“Of course I do. What did you have in mind?” Her voice was silky and smooth; it had that same velvety tone that drove me wild.

The tone that I thought was for me.

It was the same voice that she shared with other men.

“I miss you, too,” she repeated, not caring or sensitive to the fact that I was there.

How many times had she said that to me?

How many times did I believe it?

It was my,
I miss you,
that she said to other men.

No.

Not men.

Clients.

I didn’t realize I was behind her, until I could hear his breathing on the other end of her cellphone. It mimicked mine in every way possible. The same heady, overpowering, intense rhythm that I thought only I displayed.

How many men had fallen in love with her?

How many men did she make weak at the knees, and blind to the truth?

What number was I?

One, ten, a hundred?

“How much do you want to fuck me? Do you want me to swallow your come?” she seductively asked.

I had been hit, punched, slapped, beaten… to the point I thought I was going to die.

Nothing.

Not one of those blows could have prepared me for what I was feeling; for what I was going through.

The rage.

The fury.

The craze.

“Do you have any idea how hard you make me come? How good it feels when you’re deep inside me?” she added.

The control. The tight rope that I securely held in place, never wanting it to break.

Snapped.

“I’m going to fuck you all night… so that I can’t walk tomorrow, would you like that?”

“You have no idea—” I roughly grabbed the phone out of her delicate hands, and threw it across the room.

It hit the wall and shattered.

Exactly like my control.

I moved in a trance-like state and harshly gripped onto her arms, moving her from the window and pushing her against the wall.

The thud brought me right back to that night.

The night I lost myself.

The night I ended all the hurt and pain… the beatings, the screams, the tears, the begging.

The blood…

S
o much fucking blood. 

“What the fuck?” she screamed breathless.

And I broke.

I lunged at her.

I hurt her.

I pushed her.

I tried to control her.

I knew I was being rough, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to feel an ounce of what I was feeling.

A breath of fucking air she shot from my lungs.

Something.

Anything.

“Devon, calm down” she begged in the same voice I had heard my mother scream countless times. She stepped toward me and I lost it. I pushed her with the same strength, I would push a man; her head hit the wall with the force that could knock someone out.

“Shhh…” I quickly went at her. I locked her hands above her head, and grabbed at her throat. Placing her where I wanted her.

Where I needed her.

What happened next, will be the second worst regret of my life.

My first…

Was killing my father.

“You think I’m such a nice fucking guy? Don’t you, Bambi, hmm? Let me hear your pretty fucking lips say the words?” I roared, letting go of the pressure on her throat.

“Yes…” she breathed out, shocked, confused, and torn with how she should feel.

She was terrified, a deer in headlights.

“You want to hear a story, something to tuck you into bed tonight? Or wait, you probably won’t need that… will you? You’ll be busy sucking another man’s cock. Shoving it into the back of your throat like you fucking love!” I shouted close to her face, making her lip tremble and her body jump.

“Let me tell it to you anyway.” I held her firmer, too tight, too hard. “I made my sisters go hide, deep in the back of my closet. I made sure to place clothes all over them, praying that he wouldn’t find them. Praying that he wouldn’t be able to. It wouldn’t get to that. I wouldn’t let it,” I declared, not breaking the intensity of our stares. I don’t think she blinked one time, and I didn’t think I had either.

“I hid a bat under my bed, Brooke, under my fucking bed. I don’t know what possessed to me to hide one, but I did. Maybe I knew what I was going to do. Though I wouldn’t admit it.” I shivered, trying to control the tears that were at bay.

“I walked out into the living room and my mother—that nice, amazing fucking woman you met—was on the floor. Her arm was broken, her face brutally beaten. I had never seen her that bad. Her face still haunts my dreams; my nightmares. The same fucking ones you’re so proud you can stop and calm. Those nightmares,” I whispered, trying to belittle her. Mock her. Hurt her.

“I broke this award that he had received months prior, Cop of the Year, they called him. The man was a fucking monster. I shattered it, just like I did your goddamn phone,” I reminded, squeezing her throat a little bit harder and her eyes watered.

“He was pissed. So fucking pissed, Brooke, I knew it, too. And he came at me. He came at me even with a bat in my hand, that’s how fearless he was. I didn’t even give him a chance, not one fucking chance.” My breathing escalated.

“I lost control. I raised the bat that was seamlessly gripped in my hands, as high as I could from behind me, and as he made his way over to me, I made sure to swing it at precisely the perfect second. It hit him directly in the temple of his head and I heard it snap,” I laughed out, nervously, deviously.

“It snapped so loud that I can still fucking hear it. I watched his body fall to the ground, lifeless. You want to hear the really fucked up part, Brooklyn?” I taunted, as tears streamed down her face, big ugly tears, but she didn’t make a sound.

“I crouched down to the ground and spit in his face, I spit directly into his fucking dead face. Knowing I had killed him and not fucking caring one damn bit. Because he could never hurt my mother or sisters again.” I violently shook my head.

“I didn’t care about me. They could have locked me in prison for the rest of my life, and I would have proudly served my time. See, Brooke,” I whispered into the side of her face, still squeezing her neck, but kissing her at the same time.