Jennie
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..
I stare at the basket and dread fills my being. It wasn't like I didn't know he knew where I'd be but receiving the basket solidified that fact. Christine gushed when she answered the door earlier and brought it to me. Of course she'd assumed that it was from Lisa. I knew better. Lisa didn't even want to speak to me over the phone while in London, much less send me a gift. Besides, this gift screamed Mark from the second I laid eyes on it. A large, over the top basket, had been filled with Georgia peaches, jams, jellies, a cookbook, and even some peach flavored candies.
After Christine ran off to start some laundry, I opened the card.
Remember our conversation, little peach.
There was no signature but I didn't need one to know it was him. It was a threat. A simple reminder that he would, in fact, be coming back for me eventually. I fan myself with the card and sigh. It wouldn't be difficult to just leave. Christine stays busy with the housework while Bambam orders shit online all day in the salon. They don't watch my every move and I've been given the code to go outside.
Where will I go?
How will I get there?
I frown because I haven't a penny to my name, no IDs, and no transportation. While Lisa has been gone this week, I've been browsing on the computer looking for a place I could run off to and start a new life. Not the UK—I'm so over that life. And certainly not out east. Mark would find me in a heartbeat. I considered Nebraska or Kansas or some other semi-obscure state to get lost in. And until Mark's gift arrived, I'd only been entertaining the idea of leaving.
Now, it's becoming inevitable.
I fold the card in half and set it on the table. The scent of the peaches—Mark's favorite—seems to saturate the air around me. My stomach churns and spasms. And yet . . . I'm still here. Staring at it.
My other option would be to ask Lisa to release me, even if that means going unpaid. But something tells me she won't let go of her precious toy that easily. I can only sit in her massive house, watching time tick by quickly, as I wait for the expiration date on my stay to come about. When it does, I'll take the money and run. Hopefully, I'll miss Mark before he tries to swoop in and collect me.
"You know," Christine chirps as she reenters the room, "with Ms. Manoban on her way back, I could take a few of those peaches she sent and make a cobbler."
She's coming back? Today?
The thought of eating cobbler with peaches that Mark, not Lisa, sent sends me over the edge. I stand from the table and rush past her. "I'm allergic to peaches," I lie breathily. "I'm going to be sick."
I make it into the guest bathroom and head straight for the sink. Quickly, I splash cold water on my face and attempt to keep from throwing up. Lifting my eyes, I focus on the woman I am. The bruises Mark gave me last week are long gone. My eyes aren't dull but instead a fierce, calculating jade color. White skin pales with each passing second as I stare at myself. I've thrown my hair into a messy bun that matches my sloppy look of yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
"Oh, Jennie, I'm so sorry," Christine says from behind me. "I had no idea you were allergic. I'll dispose of them and we'll tell Ms. Manoban I've put them away. I'm going to make some chicken noodle soup too since you're a little green around the gills."
I nod and absently wave my thanks to her. After she leaves, I remember Irene's pills from before and open the cabinet. My hands are shaky so when I retrieve them from between the two towels, they rattle.
These could certainly help wash the lingering thoughts of Mark away. But it would also cloud my mind and eventually they'd run out. I need to be clearheaded. If I have any hope of surviving this mess.
Carefully, I push them back where they belong and return to the mirror. The color has returned to my cheeks and I attempt a smile. It feels fake and unnatural on my lips. There was a time I could coast along and pretend—Mark taught me how to do that. But now? Now I don't feel like pretending.
I don't want to be Mark's punching bag.
I don't want to be Corgy's fuck slave.
I don't want to be Lisa's toy.
I just want to be Jennie. Grace's mom. A woman with a chance to start over.
Tears spill down my cheeks at the mere thought of her. My heart clenches in my chest and I curse God for the millionth time for taking her from me.
"You know we're not poor, Peach. I could have hired someone to paint the nursery. Besides, didn't the doctor tell you not to be climbing any ladders?" Mark's deceptively sweet voice questions from the doorway from behind me. His words, though warm, send icy fear trickling down my spine.
His chilling presence washes over me and I scramble off the ladder before he decides to help me. I never want his help. His help usually means a slap to the face or push into a wall. So on a ladder, his help could be dangerous. I've been walking on eggshells doing whatever I can to please him so he'll lay off me. I'd just planned to leave him when I found out I was pregnant with his child. Now, I have to be more careful knowing there are two of us to protect instead of one and that means taking steps to save so I can slip away from him with our child.
"Oh, um, yeah. I just wanted to do it myself. You know it gets boring around here while you're gone," I tell him sweetly. And even though I love the color and the décor I've outfitted her room with, I know it's only something to pass my time. When I imagine holding my angel, I don't see it in this hell hole. I see it someplace safe—someplace far away from Mark and his sick head.
I drop the lilac-colored paint covered brush I'd been using to cut in around the ceiling into the pan and smile at him.
Today he seems to be in a fairly good mood. I hope he stays that way.
"You've really let yourself go with this pregnancy," he says with furrowed brows as I tentatively make my way to him. "I hope you lose some of that fat from your ass once you push out our kid."
His verbal remarks don't sting. I've grown used to them. It's the physical ones I hate.
"I can renew my gym membership," I say and slide my hands up his chest. "They have a day care there."
He stiffens when I kiss his lips.
"So all those assholes can eye fuck you while your ass jiggles on the treadmill? Fuck that, Peach. I'll buy you whatever you need for the house."
I swallow and nod. "Sure, babe. I'll do whatever you want."
His eyes darken and he flashes me a wicked grin—a grin that once upon a time I had fallen in love with. At that time, though, I never realized the evil that danced behind that smile.
"Well, I want you to drop to your knees and suck my cock. Daddy's had a long day."
I refrain from cringing and instead drop before him. Once I have his length in my mouth, I rub my belly.
Only a few more months of playing nice, baby girl, and then we're out of here.
A long overdue and genuine smile tugs at my lips as I pleasure my bastard husband. Only a few more months . . .
The purple room upstairs is a constant reminder of her and it nauseates me. I'm half tempted to ask Lisa if I can repaint it. I glance back at my reflection and it makes me cry harder. The woman looking back at me is scared and vulnerable. Pills from the cabinet beckon to me and I'm reminded of a similar situation when Kai was in here with me.
Why is it that only the darkest and most evil men cross my path?
I splash more water on my face when my stomach flops again. My brain is a mess today and I can hardly cope with it, hence the upset stomach. With shaking hands I rub at my eyes. I'm tired of this life. For a long time, I've played a game for someone else. It's high time I start playing for me.
Some things need to change right away. Using drugs as a crutch is one of them. With haste, I yank open the cabinet and retrieve the pills. I twist open the bottle and dump them into the toilet. As much as it scares me to handle life without them, it's necessary. I toss the empty container in the trash and flush the toilet, watching with a smile as a part of my past is swept away. This time, when I look in the mirror, I can be proud of the woman staring back at me. I close my eyes and allow myself a moment to revel in the sensation.
Warm hands encircle my waist and for a moment, I think it's Bambam. But her smell envelops me and I shiver. My heart speeds up to the much quicker pace it's used to whenever she's around.
Lisa.
"Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are? I'd been waiting to see what you'd do with those pills. You passed my test." I can sense the pride in her voice.
I reopen my eyes and am shocked to see the same, sad, exhausted look on her own face. For a moment, it makes me forget my problems and wonder about hers.
"You're back." My voice is hoarse and quiet.
She buries her face into my hair and inhales. "I am. Jesus, I missed your smell."
Her words cause my belly to flutter with butterflies instead of rumble with sickness. Sometimes, this complicated woman is just what my soul craves. I shudder and squash that thought immediately.
"How was London?"
She groans and pulls away. "Terrible. How was it here?"
"Terrible," I mimic.
Turning in her arms, I notice she's wearing one of her signature suits but the arrogance that usually paints her pretty face is lacking. We both stare at each other and inspect what we've missed. And we both have. Despite my attempts to ignore thoughts about how Lisa makes me feel alive and happy, I know I can't. Because she does make me happy—even when she's being difficult and confusing. She's only been here a few minutes and I'm already drunk on her essence.
"You look stressed," I sigh as I reach up and run my fingers through her hair. Her lids droop for a moment and it pleases me to see how much she enjoys having her hair touched. When I pull my fingers away and drag them down her cheek, her eyes pop back open.
"You look stressed too. Miss me, Bunny?"
Hearing the dumb name on her lips warms me and a wave of dizziness washes over me. I nod and lift on my toes to kiss her. "Nobody spanks me while you're gone," I tease with a smile. "Not even Bambam when I beg him too."
She groans and steals my mouth with hers, kissing me deeply. Possessively. All consumingly. I fall into the abyss that is her and whimper out a moan into her mouth. Her erection presses into me and suddenly all of my worries disappear.
I want her.
All of her.
Now.
"I want you so bad, Jen, but I am so fucking tired from traveling. Let me grab a shower and meet me in the Theater Room," She instructs with a peck against my forehead.
The air is lighter. I'm no longer being suffocated by peaches. I'm captivated by the dark moon that orbits my world.
She tugs away and leaves me alone. The air becomes colder in the absence of her presence. Suppressing a shiver, I exit the bathroom and make a face at the lingering peach scent which seems to have poisoned the air.
On the way upstairs, I lose myself to my thoughts. Moments before, I was planning my escape and now, I just want to spend time with Lisa. I want her warm, comforting presence holding me while I ignore my plan of action ahead of me. Even if it can only be for a short while.
And if she switches the flip and gets in one of those moods, well, she can fuck away my worries then. Because I might always be a whore, but I'm her whore who loves the perverted things that only she does to me.
I'm curled up in one of the comfy theater seats when I sense her presence. It's as thick as the air. Always. Lisa doesn't do anything small or insignificant. She charges everything with all that is her and it's electrifying.
"I heard you were a good little toy." Her voice blankets me in rich, velvety warmth.
"I was your bored little toy. It's not the same here without you," I tell her with honesty.
Glancing over, my mouth becomes dry to see her leaned against the doorframe wearing nothing but a pair of navy fleece pajama pants hung low on her hips and a sports bra. My eyes travel over her gorgeous chest of a god all the way down into the goodness that I'm becoming extremely familiar with.
She smirks but wisely doesn't interrupt my blatant staring. I'm attracted to the woman but I've never wanted to lick every inch of her flesh more than I do right now.
"Those pants would look better on the floor, you know," I flirt.
Her chuckle is boyish and loud. It causes a shiver of delight to quiver through me. My mood has skyrocketed while in her presence. Briefly, I worry about when the day comes where I won't ever see her again. The thought makes my already woozy stomach revolt.
Ignoring the future, I watch as she saunters into the room to the DVD player. She mashes a few buttons while I lust over her back and firm ass.
When she finishes, she grabs a quilt from the closet and sits in the seat beside me while the music starts up. She fishes around in a pocket on the side for a remote and soon the room darkens.
"Fancy," I say with a laugh. "They don't have stuff like this in the ghetto."
She grumbles from beside me. "You're never going back to the ghetto."
I frown because if I don't play my cards right, it's exactly where I'll end up. "Are we really going to watch a Disney princess movie? I'd rather just suck your cock."
"Jesus, Bunny. Why do you always have to say shit to mess with my head?" she complains. "For once just let me spoil you like I want."
She lifts the arm rest between us and tugs me over into her lap so she can cover us with the blanket.
"You're really not going to fuck me, Lisa? I thought you were kidding about watching a movie," I taunt, running my fingertips up her chest. "I've missed you."
Her fingers catch my jaw in an almost brutal grasp and she turns my face to hers. Dark, sinister eyes flicker from the movie previews on the big screen as she glares at me. "Did you forget what I like? All it took was a week to forget our special relationship?"
She wets her lips in an angry way that has me wanting to rip her pants off and do dirty things to her.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Seems like you might have to give me a refresher course," I say feigning innocence.
A quick exhalation rushes from her and I get a whiff of the coffee she's most recently consumed. It makes me want to suck the caffeine right from her tongue. She draws me to her and kisses my lips in a soft, stark contrast to the way her fingers dig into my jaw and hips. "My God, woman, what is wrong with you? Most women would just want to watch the fucking movie."
"I'm not most women," I sigh against her lips. "I crave to rile you up and provoke you. I like watching the vein in your forehead pulsate when you're pissed. I like when you tie me up and spank me and treat me like you own me."
She will own me—but not for much longer.
Her hands make quick work of tugging off my sweatshirt and I whimper in pleasure. It, along with my bra, gets tossed to the floor behind us.
"I do own you, Bunny. Every pretty inch of your body—inside and out."
I lift up on my knees and straddle her, her rock hard dick is a solid indication of her eagerness to play. Her mouth finds my nipple and I moan in delight. "Oh, yes, I need this right now."
She groans and her hot breath tickles my breast. It exhilarates me to the point that I wonder if I could orgasm this way. Her teeth sink into my tender flesh and I let loose a scream of pleasure. My head drops back the moment her thumb fingers me between my legs over my yoga pants. Having not seen her in so long, I know I'll easily succumb to bliss simply from her external touches.
Without warning, a shudder ripples through me and I cry out. With every press of her thumb on my clit, I grind against her thickened cock in an attempt to draw out as much pleasure as possible.
"I can't breathe," I whisper and collapse against her chest, our sweaty skin rubbing against each other.
She inhales and murmurs something so soft, I almost don't hear over the opening credits of the movie. "I can't breathe without you."
My heart that's skipping a few beats doesn't take the time to register what she means because a very familiar movie—one of my favorite movies—starts playing behind me. And it's not anything Disney.
"Lisa! You didn't!" I squeal as I scramble to turn around.
Sweet Home Alabama with Reese Witherspoon is playing on the large screen and I want to cry. This movie all adorable and romantic, reminds me so much of my Georgian life before Mark, back when things were fun and easy. My legs are draped over her right leg and she cradles her arm around me, her fingertips brushing my bare back softly.
"I thought we were going to fuck," she teases with a chuckle.
I absolutely love when she's like this. Swallowing down that thought, I chew on my lip before answering. Do I think about myself as her woman? I certainly feel like I belong to her more than I ever did with Mark. Lisa makes me want to be hers. And even though she demands it, she never bullies it out of me like my husband did. Sure, she's unorthodox in her ways, but she does it in a way that turns me on and draws me closer to her. I'm not even sure she realizes she does it.
"Should have stuck with the Disney movie. I can assure you, you'd have my pants off already," I tease and press a kiss to her smiling cheek. "But, you dug your own grave and now you have to lie in it."
"I'll get those pants off of you eventually tonight, Bunny."
I snuggle against her as she pulls the covers over us. This, with Lisa, is something I could most certainly get used to. My heart aches and begs the question my mind doesn't want to answer.
What if?
..
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Lisa
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There are few moments in my life that have brought me absolute joy.
Once, when I discovered a Hustler magazine at one of Mama's john's place. I happily sat in the bathroom with it and gave myself my first hand job. It was blissful but as soon as I finished, I hastily cleaned myself up and hid the magazine in the back of the cabinet underneath the sink. Before I let my conscience get the best of me, I'd allowed myself one moment to dream that I wasn't in my shitty world but was instead in a place I had control of. A world I ruled.
I was happy.
When I turned sixteen, I woke up to an annoying jingling from my bedside and opened my eyes to a grinning Richard dangling a set of keys. That morning I'd walked outside to a black Z28 Camaro with glittery, gold racing stripes and gold pin striping. It was all mine. The best for my girl, he'd said.
I was ecstatic.
But neither of those instances compared to the bursting inside of my chest at hearing Bunny laugh, sing, and recite every goddamned word to that movie. Her giggles were infectious and during that movie, something happened. My nearly nonexistent heart thrummed to life—and it beat for another. It beat for her.
I was filled with absolute joy.
And now, as I thread my fingers with hers to guide her into my bedroom, I wonder if I'll ever get moments like that again. Selfishly, I crave for more moments—not just of happiness—but of happiness with her.
It's bigger than any financial goal I've set out to achieve. Larger than any house I ever wanted to buy. More out of reach than any ridiculously priced sports car I ever wanted.
With Jennie, I want to conquer and own her.
But the part that scares me is how much I want her to own me too.
"Have you ever thought about selling your company?" she asks in a soft tone, interrupting my thoughts, as she climbs onto my bed. Her dark hair has been spun into a messy do that somehow looks hot as hell on her. She peels off her clothes and stares off into the fire while she waits for me to join her.
I drag my gaze over her perfect, naked body and push my pajama bottoms to my feet. "A time or two. Why do you ask?"
She shrugs and lies back on the bed when I sidle up next to her. My cock screams to push inside of her but my mind is curious.
"I don't know. I mean, your hotel seems like it's a lot of trouble for you. And while you enjoy the entertainment," she says with a gesture to herself, "it doesn't seem worth it."
Dragging a fingertip between her tits, I raise a questioning brow at her. "First of all, you're more than shitty entertainment. You're mine. And second, it makes me a lot of fucking money."
She laughs. "And you already have a shit ton of it. Isn't it time for ol' man Manoban to retire? Play some golf? Fuck some toys? Trade in the suits for sweatpants?"
I cringe at the thought of wearing sweatpants. Jeans, most likely. Sweatpants, never. "I've had a few offers for FTL. They've all been outrageous but I'm afraid to let go of it."
Her green eyes meet mine and she bores a hole straight through me. Normally, I push her away from me but tonight she seems hell-bent on exploring parts of me that I haven't even fully explored before.
"I think you should sell it. And soon. The market isn't what it used to be. Sell while you can make a pretty penny and invest the proceeds." Her concern for my company hides an ulterior motive behind her words. Why does she give a damn what I do with one of my most profitable companies? She'll be gone soon anyway.
The thought is a sucker punch to the gut and I nearly laugh aloud. She's not going fucking anywhere.
"Who's the finance major here?" I question as I continue my teasing of her nipples.
She huffs. "I'm not stupid, Lisa. I see a bigger picture here and if your company ever went under the microscope in the public eye, I'm afraid your 'law-abiding, tax paying' company might not be as legal as you claim it to be. Then what?"
My employees do everything to follow the letter of the law. But, Bunny was beat under the roof of my very own hotel, which makes me question if all the rules are being followed properly. Negotiations between a toy and Luxer are specific and agreed upon. However, when Luxers mix with toys that they don't have agreements with, the lines become blurred. I hadn't considered that aspect before but after what happened back in Vegas, I know I should reevaluate. And with the shit that went down with Kai, I question what else is being done without my knowledge.
"My company won't be under the microscope. Stop worrying," I tell her with a grumble.
She lets out a deep breath. "What if Mark gets mad at you for hitting him? Didn't he say he was a politician? Someone like that could make your life hell. He could find a way to put you in prison."
Her nose turns pink and she appears to be fighting back tears. A small quiver of her bottom lip tells me that she's close though. It pleases me that she seems to care so much.
I scowl at her. "That asshole isn't shit to me—all fucking bark and no bite."
She winces at my words so I soften them.
I bring my hands up to cup her face. "Bunny, I'm not going to prison. I'm not ashamed of my company or afraid I'll get hauled off to jail. However, I can understand your point about retiring. I am getting older and tired. But, I won't let some asshole scare me into selling before I'm ready."
Defeated, she nods. Her fingers raise to my cheek and she strokes me with them. It's gentle and it soothes my bitter soul.
"Now," I sigh, not wanting to tell her the next part. "I do want to keep from discussing it when my dad gets here."
Her eyes widen and they dance with questions. Neither of us have opened up much about our families and this feels huge to me. Our relationship is evolving from a normal master and her toy situation. She's becoming my solace. My friend. My lover. My confidant. My escape.
"I got a call on the way here. He had a heart attack. His doctor doesn't want him living on his own. He's getting old and she thinks he'd do better around family." I swallow, hoping the wobble in my voice doesn't give away my vulnerability.
Here, locked in my warm sanctuary, I feel free of my past, present and future. Down here, with her, things are on pause. A pause with her equals an eternity of happiness.
"I'm so excited to meet him," she gushes with a genuine smile on her face that makes my chest puff a little in pride. "Do you think he'll like me? I mean, does he know about your 'toy' fetish?"
"Dad will love you—that much I can guarantee. He's never met a stranger, I don't think," I tell her with a hint of adoration for him in my voice. "But, listen Jen, he doesn't know a lot about my life. I go to his house for Christmas every year and we meet out in LA anytime I have a meeting there. He stays busy with his rotary club and orchid society, but he's never been here. My dad is one of those people who sees the good in everyone—even street trash like me."
Her eyes widen in shock and I immediately realize my slip up. Before I can distract her, my curious Bunny, fires off more questions.
"Lalisa Manoban, you are the most refined, exquisite, over the top people I've ever met—certainly not street trash. That would be me, handsome. Were you one of those rags to riches stories? What about your mum? Where is she?"
At the mention of my mother, my world spins around me. The warmth I try so hard to blanket myself with is ripped away as chilling memories haunt me. My heart is still hollow, bitter, and aching from her loss.
I think of anything to drive away memories, especially of those at the end, and I imagine the sound of Corgy's skull popping over and over again—each one overlapping the last until it sounds like popcorn exploding inside my head.
But I can't get her out of my mind.
Mama's sad, sick eyes gut me.
I blink and blink and blink to rid myself of it but it won't fucking go away.
"M-M-Mr. Manoban," I cry into the phone. The card he gave me is wrinkly from my handling it so much and it is no longer the crisp and clean like him but instead dirty and dingy like me.
"Lili?! Jesus Christ! I came back from my meeting last month and you guys were gone. Where the hell are you now? I looked all over that damn city for you two!"
I'd remembered so well. Mama had dragged us out of his fancy apartment not even thirty minutes after he went to his meeting. She'd said Richard deserved better than her. I was sad for leaving his warm home and him, but deep down, I was glad Mama didn't think I deserved more than her.
A choked sob escapes me and I fight for breath. I can't do this. I can't do this without her. "Mr. Manoban . . ."
The line grows quiet on the other end and for a moment, I feel as though I'm all alone on this godforsaken planet. "Call me Richard. Where are you?"
"Chinatown in an apartment. They're both . . ." I can't say it.
"Shit!"
Neither of us speak but I can hear him slinging stuff around. Finally, after a few minutes, with us both trying to hide our tears from the other, he speaks again.
"Lisa, I'm coming for you. I can get a flight out of LAX tonight and be there by morning. Can you stay put? Can you wait for me, girl?"
My soul rejoices at hearing him assure me he's headed my way. I feel so lost and the idea of him finding me is enough to keep going. "Yeah, I can do that."
He asks for the address and after I locate it on an envelope on a stack of bills, I give it to him.
"Richard?" I question. "Will you hurry? There's no food here and I'm hungry."
His voice is full of emotion. "Mark my words, baby. You will never go hungry again for as long as I live. You're my girl now."
I don't want to hang up because his voice is comforting and strong. I want to latch onto it and never let go. I'd never known my "sonofabitch" father as my mom called him, but Richard was the closest thing to one I had ever experienced in my fourteen years of life. Even the old man down at the shelter who taught me how to read when I was younger hadn't filled that role.
"I need to book a flight so I can leave," he says reluctantly, his words mirroring my own.
I nod but the tears roll out because I don't want him to leave me, yet I want him to come to me. My eyes skim over to my mother and her customer lying in his bed. Their bodies were cold and stiff when I touched them. Evidence of the cause of their death was strewn all around in the way of needles, baggies of rocks, and dirty spoons.
My mama was so sick.
And now she's not sick anymore.
"Why'd she leave me?"
He sighs but his voice is firm. "Lalisa, she couldn't help herself. She was someone who'd gotten on the wrong path and couldn't ever find her way back. People like your mother deserve more than the cards they were dealt. Sometimes they need someone strong and capable to show them the way. Your mother is free of her illness and addictions now. One day you'll see her again, girl—in another life where she's pure and healthy. Don't ever question her love for you. Because despite the problems she juggled daily in that foggy head of hers, one thing was always clear. Her love for you."
His words calm me and I kneel beside her body. I press a kiss to her cold flesh and swallow. "I don't want to be alone."
"Lalisa Manoban" he says in a firm, authoritative voice. I jerk to hearing my first name mixed with his last name. My mama said we didn't have last names. Last names were for when you belonged to someone who took care of you and we took care of ourselves. "You will never be alone. You have my word, girl."
After we hang up, I find a blanket and drag it up over my naked mother. Crawling in next to her under it, I hug her stiffened body and kiss her on the forehead.
"Mama," I whisper, my voice brave. "Richard is going to take care of me now. You don't have to work ever again."
"Lalisa. Talk to me." Sobs drag me from my memories and I'm thankful to see Bunny beneath me. Only she's crying too. Not just tears rolling out but full on sobbing. In an instant, I inventory my surroundings.
Her legs are around my waist and her palms are on my cheeks cradling my face. I'm balls deep inside of her and don't remember how I got here. I expect to see fear in her eyes. Hate. Something other than an emotion that steals my soul straight from my fucking body.
"Jennie," I grunt and attempt to pull out of her, "Jesus, what the fuck?"
She lifts her head and kisses my lips in a reassuring way. Her body wriggles beneath me to urge me on. My heart skips a beat and my world is once again on pause.
With her.
Only with her.
I dive my tongue into her mouth and kiss her in a way I hope conveys how much she consumes me. With every thrust into her tight heat, I let her own me in a way nobody ever has.
"Shh," she murmurs into my mouth. "I have you now."
My desire for her increases tenfold at the sound of those words. Words I said to her all those weeks ago in my office, when I revealed my most cruel and sadistic side to her. When her body tightens around my cock, I grunt out my release. I'm not sure if she even got off but I'm so lost in her—her scent, her taste, her voice, her everything—that I don't let it ruin the moment. She seems perfectly content stroking my back and kissing my lips as if her mouth has the power to heal me.
And right now, with my life on pause, she fixes every single goddamned part of me.
I don't detach myself from her and instead just stare at her. Her now serene face is glistening with her tears and her pink nose is so fucking cute. How'd she bewitch me so easily?
"So, what happened between you and your mum?" she questions in a soft, sweet tone.
"I hate her."
The venom I try to fuel my words with falls flat. Even I know that's a lie.
She frowns, marring her perfect face. "For some reason, I have a hard time believing that."
I shrug and pull out of her, rolling onto my back. She curls up beside me and gently fingers my chest.
"Tell me about her, Lisa."
A dark chuckle escapes me. "There's nothing to tell. She was a drug addicted whore who could barely care for her daughter. Not much to say on the matter."
Her sharp intake of breath steals more of my soul. She regards me with a look of confusion, the hurt written all over her face, ruining her pretty features. "Like me?" she asks with a slight quiver to her voice. "Do you hate me if I'm like her?"
I think of when Bunny first fell into my car. Her makeup was shitty. She was dirty as hell and stank. And she was practically crawling with diseases. I'd chosen her, just like I choose them all, because she was like my mother so long ago. But unlike back then, I now have control over my situation. Fixing those whores and breathing their life back into them, even if only for six months, is soothing to the shredded being within me. I can make things right for them like I couldn't ever do with Mama.
But Jennie?
She's so fucking different.
This woman started out just like the rest but then she wormed her way into my heart. I knew she was unlike the rest. Her life had taken a shitty turn but she was every bit as lost and vulnerable as I was when I was a kid. Every time she's cold, I sense the pure devastation of the reminders of her homeless past. Each time she's handed a meal by Christine, she appreciates it as if it might be her last. And every time we touch, she seems to drink in my praise and affections, much like a neglected child or puppy would.
Jennie reminds me of me.
We share the same sentiments. They link us together.
Sure, the other homeless whores, they had the same issues. But they all seemed to suffer from mental anguish like that of my mother. Even when I tried to fix them, I always knew they'd never remain pristine and restored—that they'd always revert back. It was in their DNA.
My Bunny's a survivor though.
With each passing day, I can see her strength and resolve returning. The determined glint in her eyes to overcome her past overshadows everything she does. When I see Jennie, I'm looking in a mirror.
"Jennie Manoban, I could never hate you," I whisper and kiss the top of her head. "You actually scare the shit out of me because you're the furthest thing from hate in my eyes, baby."
Last names are for when you belong to someone who takes care of you.
I expect her to tense up or question my nonsensical talk. To argue about her last name being Rabbit or revealing her real last name. Instead, she snuggles up against me.
"I wish we could pause this moment," she says, her soft breath tickling my chest.
Closing my eyes, I smile.
A pause with her equals an eternity of happiness.
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