Burn (17 page)

             
He was gone.

Twelve

He followed her fixed gaze to the entrance. There was no one there.

             
“How about we go home?” he whispered in her ear. He felt her nod against his chest.

             
On the ride back his mind had split into two. One side was trying to digest the news he’d swallowed seconds before Sara’s meltdown.
It can’t be possible. There’s no fucking way…

             
The other side of him was trying to deal with Sara’s anger fit. Fuck, the girl was strong. Despite the turn of events, he had to focus on her tonight. She was evidently rattled, and judging by the tightness in her grip around his torso, she needed him.

             
Once inside the clubhouse, he followed her to the kitchen where she grabbed a block of chocolate and demolished it in under a minute. Her mind was far away, and her eyes were dimmer than usual.

             
“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked her. Surely that mind-numbing love story with the man’s conditioned hair blowing in the wind on the fucking front cover of the DVD would cheer her up.

             
“Okay,” her little voice answered.

             
Once inside the bedroom, he popped the movie in and brought her close to his chest. She wrapped herself around him like a pretzel, burying her head into his chest as they watched on. Thank fuck he had some beer to drink down – it numbed his senses during the two long,
long
hours of melodramatic bullshit.

             
She’d fallen asleep before the movie ended. He laid her down on the bed, stroked the hair away from her face and traced his finger lovingly down her cheek. Fuck, he thought she was beautiful. He got up and threw the covers over her. Then he went downstairs and to the surveillance room where he made an important call.

             
“I wanna see the tape tomorrow, Frank,” he demanded. “I need to know if that shit is true.”

             
Once he hung up, he paced the clubhouse for hours, drinking beer after beer. His fingers twitched unsteadily – the raw need to smoke at this kind of stressful situation arose in him. He fought against it. He hadn’t had a cigarette in three fucking years and lived through far more worse news than this.

             
Well… kinda. This was pretty fucking bad.

             
The need for a distraction continued to rise until he was a bundle of nerves.
Fuck this shit. Fuck that shit. Fuck all the shit in the world. Fuck it ten times, twenty times, upside down, right side fucking up. Fuck it ALL!

             
He stopped and leaned into the nearest wall, resting his head against it.

             
If it’s true? If what’s on that tape is true… What then? What fucking then?
For once, Remy didn’t know.

             
The sound of giggles erupted from the entrance way. Logan stumbled in with two girls. The man was so drunk he didn’t even make it ten steps. He collapsed into the couch – the same fucking couch Fritz practically lived on, fucking
yuck
– and the girls fell into him. More giggles and then the sounds of wet kisses and the zip of his jeans.

             
Remy shut his eyes tightly. He was so used to this shit, had always seen it in passing, but fuck, tonight it gnawed at him something awful. He hadn’t been inside a woman since… since… Oh, fuck, he couldn’t even remember. It’d been months. Lust formed at the pit of him as he entertained the notion of finally getting fucked. At the snap of his fingers he could have those two women right then and there, legs spread, pussies out. Perks of being VP – he was higher up the food chain to Logan.

             
The sounds hardened him instantly. Now that would be the perfect distraction. Just a word, one little demand and they would be–

             
He turned around and rushed up the stairs. No.Fucking.Way.

             
He wouldn’t be like his sick fuck of a father. He wouldn’t do that to Sara. She was all he wanted, not those two cent fake ass skanks begging for a root they didn’t even care for all in the hopes of getting their drug fix later on in the night.

             
He needed her. Needed her so fucking badly, he was shaking. He burst into the room and climbed into the bed. Throwing the covers off, he turned her on her back and rested over her. She began to rouse awake when he needily began kissing her. Startled, she opened her eyes and moved away from his face.

             
“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously.

             
“No,” he answered before he took her lips again. He pushed deeply into her mouth, tasting her tongue against his. Fuck, she was a breath of fresh air. She was so perfect.

             
Unable to hold back, his hands roamed every inch of her, gripping her every soft curve like it was air to his lungs. He’d cornered her like a prey, peeling her pants roughly off of her, reacting purely on his own self-gratification.

             
“Remy,” she breathlessly said, pulling her face away from his. “You’ve been drinking…”

             
He trailed his tongue down her neck and sucked her fiercely the way she liked. Her lower body couldn’t resist what it wanted. She tried so fucking hard not to rub herself against him. He pushed her shirt up but she snatched it quickly from him, not wanting to take it off. He wouldn’t relent. He tore her underwear off in under a second, and she immediately seized.

             
“Remy,” she said, but it came out like a plea. A plea for what? For more? Fuck yes. Fuck yes a million times.

             
He hurriedly unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper down. He didn’t even want to take his clothes off. He’d waited far too long for this. He just wanted inside that…

             
“Remy,” Sara said again, harder than before. “No, Remy. You’ve been drinking.”

             
He shut her up with his mouth, but her legs automatically closed the second he tried to spread them.

             
“Stop, stop,” she said, moving away from his face. “Stop it, Remy. No!”

             
“Let me in,” he gruffly ordered, gripping her hip tighter than he’d intended. “Let me in, Birdy. Let me the fuck in.”

             
He felt her head shake.

             
“Let me the fuck in!” he growled.

             
He overpowered her and spread her legs wide. He’d waited long enough. Too long. Fuck her if she thought she could say no to him one more time! That shit wasn’t happening. His body was primed for this; he was lost in the desperate need for fulfilment, all rational thought escaped him.

             
“Please,” she cried hysterically.

             
He gripped the pillow her head was on and squeezed the ever-living shit out of it. The tip of his cock was right there –
right fucking there
! Like a volcano, his anger erupted and he shouted incoherently, letting her hip go as he stormed off of her. His whole body shook, the taste of anger so palpable on his tongue he wanted to fucking blow up!

             
And he did. He swiped everything off the dresser and knocked the television down. It crashed to the floor as he raked both hands through his hair and stopped abruptly at the door. He knocked his head against it once, and then twice for good measure.

             
Why? WHY was she doing this?

             
“You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ tease,” he cursed, breathing rapidly against the wood of the door.

             
Her cries only angered him even more. He turned to her and she recoiled at the sight of him, as she fucking should! He’d never been this pissed off before. Not even tonight’s news had tipped him over the edge like this. He was brimming in this vehemence and he hated her so fucking much for crying the way she did, the way that made his heart pain in his chest. Fuck her and her manipulative bullshit!
She brings me in and pushes me away.
Like stormy waves against a cliff, there was only so much crashing he could take.

             
“Move the fuck on!” he shouted at her, the pressure of anger so full in his head he just wanted to pop.

             
She brought her knees into her chest. He recognized this action from her well. She did it when she felt threatened and afraid. Fuck, she was afraid of
him
? The one man that would take a bullet for her without a moment’s notice?

             
“He doesn’t want you anymore,” he ground out, pointing at her accusingly. “I’m so fuckin’ sick and tired of this bullshit! He doesn’t want you anymore! When the fuck will you get that through to you? How else can I prove it to you—”

             
“You took me there on purpose!” she interrupted him. Even in the dark of the room he saw her redden from her own anger. “You wanted me to see him! That’s the only reason you took me there–”

             
“How the fuck else was I meant to show you he doesn’t care for you? He’s moved the fuck on! Hasn’t even disturbed me since the fuckin’ night he wanted you back!”

             
The words were like bullets. She flinched, the pain permeating her features, and then she had the audacity to shake her head!

             
“Stop this denial shit. I’ve fuckin’ had it, Sara. Fuckin’ had it like you wouldn’t believe. I’m so sick of waitin’ for you—”

             
“I never asked you wait, Remy,” she retorted. “You’re wasting your time with me. Go find someone else willing to put out for you.”

             
He wouldn’t let her see the panic those words caused him. Find someone else? He didn’t want anyone else. He’d be a shell without her.

             
“This isn’t about puttin’ out, Sara,” he told her calmly. God, what the fuck had he just done? It dawned on him quickly – the scene that had just unfolded, his demand for her to spread herself to him, the constant times she’d said no… He felt sick.

             
He stumbled to the edge of the bed and collapsed on it. Elbows propped on each knee, he looked down at the dark floor and rested his forehead against each hand. He let the silence soothe the anger away until…

             
“I’ve been waitin’ for you since you were fourteen,” he whispered. Oh, fuck, did he really just say those words? Maybe she didn’t hear them–

             
“Fourteen? Since the swings.” Her tone had softened by his calmness and it eased him. He didn’t want to fight with her. He just wanted her to know how he felt and how hard it was dealing with her constant rejection.

             
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Pretty fucked up, huh?”

             
“Why didn’t you do anything?”

             
“You were fourteen, Sara. Four-fucking-teen. You know how sick that is? You know how sick I felt? I saw you walkin’ down the road in weird fuckin’ ducky jammies, and your hips were swayin’ with every step. I went cross-eyed just watchin’ you. I thought you were sixteen minimum. I’m perverted either way, huh?”

             
“You’re not perverted at all.”

             
“Fell in love with a fourteen year old at age twenty two? That’s perverted shit, Sara.”

             
Her breaths thinned. Yeah, he fucking admitted it. So what? He turned his head to her. She was eyeing him with a lost, disbelieving look.

             
“What’s wrong, Birdy? Cat got your pretty little tongue?” He needed to hear her speak. The silence was brutal.

             
To his surprise, she smiled shyly at him. “I had the biggest crush on you after that night.”

             
“Is that right?”

             
She nodded. “Yeah, I hated myself for not asking what your name was. I would get so tempted to walk into Jackal owned shops and ask about you. I couldn’t, obviously. I was too scared of them at the time.”

             
Well, shit. How about that? He’d always figured she’d thought he was some creep at the swings, an inconsequential occurrence that slipped away with the years.