Ballistic (2 page)

“Time’s up,” I mumble pushing him off of me. When he doesn’t budge but keeps grunting, I push even harder. “I said time’s up.”

“I’m almost there
, baby,” he moans trying to keep his rhythm.

Here’s one for ya
; he has no rhythm therefore, game over. “Yeah you’ve almost been there for like ten minutes,” I growl, finally making headway.

“Gonna come,” he yells into my hair.

Sitting up and rolling away from him, I grab my things from the floor. “You can come,” I tell him. “All over yourself if you want, but that shit isn’t getting anywhere near me.”

“Grab my balls,”
he begs.

“You get me anywhere near your balls
, grabbing them is the last thing I’m gonna do.”

Reaching for me while still pumping into his hand me moans, “Then spank me, Christ do something!”

“I got you,” I smile leaning in.

“So close
, baby,” he chants over and over. Cocking back, I punch him hard in the jaw and just like that, the idiot comes all over himself. Gross.

“That was awesome,” he whispers still shaking from it.

I’m shaking too, but for a different reason. Running to the door to make a quick exit I hear him yell, “Call me!” But I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m too busy vomiting on his porch to say anything. This isn’t me. I’m better than this. Only I’m not and even my pile of vomit knows it.

For weeks, every time I allow my body to be used as a vessel
, I vomit directly after. If I felt dirty before, I feel filthy now. Fucking randoms feels wrong now but I don’t get how? I’ve been doing this song and dance for years.

Whores don’t
just get saddled with a conscience. Do they?

I’m too buzzed for a fucking stalker.

Everywhere I go, there he is.
For weeks he’s been like herpes.  Just when you think he’s gone, he shows back up. He doesn’t speak to me, he just watches. Although this is the first time he’s entered a bar while I’m in it. The last few visits to the barstool he follows me into the lot then leaves until he finds me the following day. Now I’m wondering if he’s upping his game or if he’s intent on ruining my sex life. Even here in this dive bar with $1.25 drafts and Creedance playing way too loud for my taste, the guy sticks out like a sore thumb.

He
screams money and way too fucking good looking to be in a joint like this on a school night. Checking the time, I decide to have one more beer while questioning the cop next to me who wants to know if my dad was a sheriff, because I was so fine. How fucking original. Throwing money down for another round, I signal the bartender missing his front teeth. Fuck me, but the things I do for a paycheck.

“
Bartender, make that mother fucker stronger,” I say nodding to my right. “And give this Casanova one too; his pickup lines alone are worth the hangover.”

“Where ya headed
, gorgeous?” he slurs as I jump down off my stool.

“Smoke break,” I tell him
winking. “Save my seat, sugar.”

Nodding vigorously he pats
the stool with his hand to show me it’s waiting for me while I throw my shot back and head out the door. The whole ‘no smoking’ in bars law blows. If nonsmokers want fresh air, let them go stand outside. But no, instead I’m forced to stand out back by a dumpster with a make shift butt can that’s seen better days. Lighting up and leaning against the brick wall, I check my messages. Sending Jules a text back, I let her know that I’m working, that I’m safe, and that I’ll call her later. As usual she sends me a few zingers that have me cracking right up. I send her one back that says “if you’re going to sit on a face, make it a happy one.” If anyone appreciates my humor, it’s her. Now that I think about it, she may be the
only
one. When I notice someone blocking my light, I look up, then a guy slams me against the wall, hard. Then he’s on me, pulling my hair, kissing my neck and going for my jeans.

With a cigarette in one hand
, and my phone in the other, I was seriously stumped on which I dropped before I mollywhop this asshole but, seconds later he’s thrown off of me, taking the decision out of my hands. My clothes smelled like the 90’s and it proves my theory that Drakkar Noir hasn’t gone out of style. Blinking to clear my vision as well as look for another threat, I look over to see
him
curb-stomping the pervert. Okay, so this is kind of random and hot. Especially when I sense he wasn’t really trying. When the guy stops moving, he turns, approaching me looking all sorts of papa bear. Who
is
this guy? So I ask him as much when he stalks toward me looking righteously peeved.

“Who the fuck
are you?”

“
I’ve waited long enough,” he growls in a rather menacing voice which my vagina liked immediately. Then again, my vagina is a whore and cheers for the bad boy. When he extends his hand expecting me to take it, I back away instead. “Don’t make the mistake of running, Lina,” he whispers to me. “I
will
chase you.”

All of my fight or flight responses kick in at once.
He knows my name. Not good. Doing what I do best, I turn and run as fast as my kid-sized feet will take me. When I get a safe distance away, I look back to see him moving slowly in my direction. Also not good considering track was never a sport I could get down with.

And h
e was telling the truth.

Really
,
really
not good.

Making it several block
s and two impressive zig zags later, I bend over at the knees to hyperventilate like a grown up. By that I mean wheezing, coughing and spitting. Reaching in my pocket, I grab my room key and smokes, then peek around the corner hoping not to be seen. I walk, not run, back to my shit room at the shit hotel I’m staying in while I work. The room smells like all the rooms here do, like stale cigarettes and defeat. Taking a shower, making a few notes about tonight’s lead being a big fat zero in my laptop, I  blow out a big cloud of smoke wonder what in the hell just happened.

Whoever that guy is, is trouble with
the with a capital I’M FUCKED and whatever he’s selling, I’m not buying even with an EBT card. At first he seemed curious and harmless; it was almost endearing. A girl like me takes male attention where she can get it but, this guy tonight screamed code red. No way was I sticking around to see if he would chase me. Nuh uh.

He had long legs like a gazelle
, whereas I’m built like a pug. I lose that foot race before the gun even goes off. Shaking off the weird encounter, I promise myself to switch up my routine again. I can’t afford to let my guard down. Especially after how off kilter I felt the first time we locked eyes. That put a serious mind whammy on me and I haven’t been right since. Since that day, I see him wherever I go, and look for him in the crowd even when he isn’t there.

Locking my door,
I climb under the stiff covers and place my gun under my pillow within reach. I close my eyes, praying for sleep. Lucky me, sleep found me when I was actually sober. Unfortunately for me, I also woke up that way too.

Because when I did,
he
was there.

Watching my father clean his weapon was one of my favorite things to do. I was ten
, going on eleven and I wanted him to teach me man things. I was ready.  Asking me to oil the rag, I take it and dip it handing it back to him.

"Why do you clean it every Friday
, Pops?” I ask him touching the spring

“A gun is a powerful thing
, Junior. In the right hands it can save lives. In the wrong hands, it can take them.”

Setting the spring down I ask him
, “Why do you keep it here if you’re not working?”

Not missing a beat
, he looks up and over at my mother who is finishing the dishes then back to me. “I will always protect what I love most.”

Rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt courses through me. What if I hadn’t been there
to save her? Christ. The man had the nerve to touch her. No, not just touch her, attack her. He’d been watching her work that cop over for hours. She made herself easy prey to that fucking predator. The second she cleared that door he made his move and I’m furious that I didn’t reach her before he touched her. I’m even more furious that, according to Venessa, she is ‘street smart and cock ready’ whatever that means, so she should know to watch her own back. Clearly her own safety means little when she’s too busy doing shots with strangers. While his hands were all over her, she looked…bored. What in the hell is wrong with her? I needed to cool off before I approached her, based on my shaking hands, I knew that much.

Part of m
e wanted to go back and kill the bastard, but I decided to leave the weakened predator to become the prey as natured intended. Seemed fitting since by now he’ll have either been rolled or raped and either option appealed to me as long as it was slow and painful. For weeks I’ve been trying to find a way to introduce myself without her thinking I’m insane and nothing has worked. So, standing outside her room with a copy of her key and a hard on, I can admit my plan has hit a snag.

She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who would appreciate my tactics
. But then again, what sane woman would? Silently entering her room and closing the door, she doesn’t budge even as I trip over the chair that was left out. Looking around I notice her clothes are in a duffel bag, her toiletries have their own separate bag, her laptop is charging and the best part about all of it was she slept totally naked.  A man can appreciate that especially if he was too tired to even eye fuck her while she was out.

Exhausted
, I pull up a chair, settling in to watch her. Like every night since I first heard her name, she’s the only thing I dream about when I fall asleep and the first thing I think of when I wake up. She confuses me, keeps me guessing and mystifies me. Normally I try to make sense of these ever-changing feelings, but tonight I indulge them, too tired to do otherwise. I wanted to sleep, needed to, but the smell of her perfume in my nose made my cock even harder. Inhaling that scent, memorizing it, I decided the real thing was better than the fantasy. The woman smelled like heaven and cigarettes.

Slowly
, I released the button of my jeans, lowered the zipper and slid my left hand in. Maybe I should be ashamed that I was about to jerk off while she slept unaware, but I wasn’t, and the second my hand made a fist around my cock, I knew shame was the last thing I was going to feel. In truth, there was no word or emotion that could describe what I was feeling once she opened her eyes and caught me either.

Working myself with one hand, I stroke up and down adding a squeeze for effect. When she faces me and raises her arms above her head
, showcasing those tits, I jerk myself harder and faster. When her hands come down and one rests across her breast with the other on her belly, I feel it building up like fire in my shaft. My cock hurts and is so hard right now, I was afraid to come.

With her dark eyes watching,
I wanted to cover her in it, forcing her to wear it and to potentially warn other males off. But that’s another fantasy. In reality, I was about to come in my hand with her mere feet from me. When it hits, I don’t close my eyes. I narrow in on hers instead. I study her thighs, her collarbone, and even her neck. When the first burst fills my hand, I bite my cheek with the force of it. Once the shakes wear off, I quietly fix my jeans, grab a handful of tissues from the nightstand, and feel her judging me for my actions but says nothing.

Looking her over, it hardly makes sense that she can be built like this
, but the proof is in the tissue in my pocket. The most amazing thing is she’s not even five feet tall but, she’s curvier than any female I’ve ever seen. Her body, like her ability, is an anomaly. Clearly she doesn’t fear me because I watch as she drifts back off to sleep not caring that a stranger just blew his load in her room. The fact she didn’t scream or beg me not to hurt her proves she isn’t an ordinary woman. As her mouth slightly opens and I realize she’s truly asleep I look down at the tissue again and decided that no she wasn’t ordinary, she was nuts.

Appreciating the view
, I’m caught off guard when she starts thrashing. Appearing to be held down by invisible hands, I start to rise to free her when she jackknifes up reaching for her throat and breathing heavy. She calms some and grates out “die” before she starts to breathe normally. She has yet to notice me, but just as she turns to get comfortable again, our eyes meet.

Fuck.
Those eyes freeze me every time they settle on me. Call me what you want; say what you will, but the second her eyes locked on me the world shifts. Her eyes forced me to feel things. When her puffs of breath hit my nose from several feet away, my own breaths fell in synch with hers. What the fuck is happening to me?

“Please do not panic,” I advise her
quietly. “I don’t want to restrain you.”

She blinks once, twice
, and then rolls her now smeared kohl-lined eyes. Pulling up her covers, she situates herself and turns away from me in an effort to what? Go back to sleep? Ignore me? Does nothing faze this woman?

“Unless you’re hiding a gun under your pillow, please look at me when I’m speaking to you.” Taking her silence as my answer
, I wrap my hands in her bedding and yank them, not only from her body, but clear from her bed letting them land in a heap on the floor. Bringing her knees to her chest she curls into herself and closes her eyes. Okay, now I’m starting to get pissed. Climbing onto the bed, I pull her towards me. When she opens her eyes again, I find myself robbed of speech. Christ, in that moment those eyes held the keys to my fucking black soul and that freaked me out so, I let go of her. I have never been lost in a woman’s eyes before. I caught myself before asking what she saw there because I knew then she saw what I was made of and I was afraid of her answer. When she looks into my eyes, she doesn’t blink, but her pupils dilate and I feel my own eyes widen in response. It’s fucked up, is what it is. Humans don’t lock in on each other, but swear to Christ, that’s what just happened. I couldn’t stop her either; I just let her lure me deeper. When she wouldn’t release me, I had to do it out of pure fear. Instead of demanding the answers I feared, I played the role protector.

“This room isn’t secure,” I mumble
. “Anyone could get through that pitiful excuse for a door.” She still just stares at me. Her silence wasn’t expected or appreciated. I’ve watched her at work, followed her every move and thought I had a handle on her many personalities but again, I was wrong. This woman only lets you see what she wants you to see. “I take it a strange man that jerks off in your room isn’t unfamiliar to you?”

When she continues to stare through me my nerves decided they couldn’t handle it anymore. I’m here for one reason and after
tonight, she knows she owes me. Standing up and walking over to her laptop she watches me but her eyes following me is the only movement she makes. Picking it up, I turn it to the left side and remove the flash drive. She narrows her eyes and her breathing picks up, finally giving me a fucking response.

Removing the flash drive and tucking it in my pocket, I set the laptop back and lean against the wall. Her flaring nostrils tell me she's furious but outside of that
, she’s still as a statue.

“Get up, get dressed and meet me down the
street for coffee,” I tell her, walking toward the door sporting serious wood again. “When you show and listen to what I have to say, I may be feeling charitable enough afterward to give this back to you. You owe me, Lina. That man I left on the ground could have killed you had I not been there. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

Not looking back
, I close the door behind me and begin my walk to my car parked a block up. I wasn’t ten steps away when a single bullet was fired close to my shoulder, causing me to tap dance out on the asphalt out of complete terror. Whipping around I see her standing in her doorway, buck assed, with bed head, makeup all over her face, a pistol aimed at my chest and smiling.

“This outta be good
,” she says in a voice that is at odds with the rest of her. Her stature is small; her features even smaller, but her voice is thick, deep and powerful. Then she turns, closes the door and leaves me standing there close to pissing myself. Minutes pass and when I realize she isn’t going to shoot me while my back is turned, I practically jog to my car and decided the bitch was fucking crazy.

Maybe she
was
crazy, although she wasn’t the one who currently had a pocket full come-stained tissue. Yeah, that would be me.