Promise (50 page)

When she started flapping her gums thinking they were going to make conversation, he cranked up the volume on the Five Finger Death Punch CD until the rear view mirror shook.

The volume stayed at max until they arrived at the small, rented condo just ten minutes from the gym. Jerking to a stop in the parking lot, Cameron lurched out the car door, feet on the ground with the Trixie following behind like some brainless puppy dog.

“I love your pec tattoo. What does that mean? ‘Living Death’? Is that like a band or something?”

She threw her bag on the floor inside the front door and Cameron rubbed his forehead then cracked his neck.

Before he took his next breath, he heard the soft tapping of claws across the tile floor of the kitchen as Samson and Stoli came running through the pet door and into the living room.

“OH MY GOD!” Trixie screamed like they were damn tigers or something.

Holy fuck, I’d rather someone stuck a needle in my damn ear than listen to that.

The dogs were giving her a good ass and crotch sniff and Trixie backed away into the front door.

Good boys. I think that bitch is in heat.

Cameron remembered the day he couldn’t stand looking at the two emaciated pups anymore and cut the wire that held both dogs to a stake in the muddy front yard of a house back in Detroit.

The dog’s faces were covered in scars and he could count every rib. But they jumped up and licked his face like he was the damn coast guard pulling them in from a storm.

I guess they were born fighting too.

“Are they nice? Are they going—“ Her fake eyelashes fluttered and she held her hands high over her shoulders.

“Come on boys, you don’t want any of that.”

Cameron snapped his fingers then pointed to the back door. The two wagging, panting pit bulls made their way outside after Cameron gave them both a scratch behind the ear.

“So, you like dogs, huh?” The way she kept herself pinned against the wall watching the pet door with a nervous stare told him she wasn’t an animal lover. Big surprise.

“Are we going to fuck or what?” Cameron only needed her mouth for one thing, and the sooner she shut up and understood the single reason she was here the sooner this would be over.

“Of course baby. I just thought maybe—“

He walked into the bedroom and she followed behind snapping her gum.

“Get naked.” Cameron pulled his t-shirt over his head and had his jeans off before she thought to reconsider. He folded each piece of clothing into compact, perfect squares before setting them inside the empty laundry basket on the floor.

His cock struggled to rise to half mast, but he needed the damn release.

He would have kept his clothes on and freed just his dick from his zipper, but skin was far easier to clean than clothes. Anything she touched was getting a damn funeral pyre as soon as they were done.

“Okay, okay. Jeez, such a bossy boy.” She worked the button on her white Daisy Dukes as her eyes scanned the bedroom. “Gawd, your place is so
neat
. Do you even live here? You should see my place, like a tornado went through.” She snapped the gum in her mouth and smiled.

Cameron slid his hand low, gripping his thickening monster trying to convince it to rise to the occasion.

Trailer Trash Trixie here was new, and he hoped the variety would be enough to distract his thoughts from where he wished he could be. This ring-whore had been following Cameron around for a week or more, flashing those carbonized tits like that was some sort of incentive.

By the time naked Barbie turned around, Cameron’s boy stood at 80% and the eyes on Blondie popped out of her fake Elvira eyelashes.

“Oh, my gawd! Your cock is ah-maz-ing! That’s gonna hurt. What are you 9”—10”? Have you measured?? Thick too. Is it going to get bigger? Cause, that thing’s scary. It’s like a third arm you got there. But, jeez, you’re beautiful, I knew I wanted to hook up with you since I saw you fight—”

What the fuck? If you don’t stop the dip-shit-dick-worship, I’m never going to be able to finish. Fucking boner killer.

Cameron cut her off. “Shut the fuck up. Come here, down. Get me hard.”

He motioned her into position on the floor.

“What? You’re not hard yet?
Wow
. I don’t know—“ Her eyelids fluttered as she stared at the monster in Cameron’s grip.

After a moment of hesitation, she smiled and did as instructed. His flavor-of-the-night dropped to her knees and opened her collagen injected lips, stretching them wide, leaving a bright red ring of lipstick around his shaft as she struggled to fit him in her mouth.

Cameron closed his eyes, the sound of her slurping and the sight of her looking up at him like some used up porn whore sending his cock in the wrong direction.

Fuck man, let’s get this done. Keep your damn eyes closed so I can get what I need. Dahmmmm, tho—bitch knows how to give head. She could suck a damn golf ball through a garden hose.

Cameron’s demanding as hell cock had a voice of its own that would not be silenced until it had its release.

The whore on the floor was no more than a blow up doll, a masturbation tool. The only image that pushed Cameron to the finish line was the face of his obsession that lived 1286 miles northeast.

Trixie did her thing until Cameron slammed every inch down her throat and she gagged until her lips damn near turned blue. Still, she came right back for more as his hand tangled in her brillo-bottle-blond Pamela Anderson hair as he face fucked her until he was bored of her mouth.

“Up. Over. Ass up on the bed.”

“Okay, maybe you could give me a little of
your
mouth on my sweet kitty cat.”

Yeah, that’s fucking funny. If you think my tongue is going anywhere near that, you’re even dumber than you look.

“Shut the fuck up. Get up on the bed, or get your ass out. You have four fucking seconds to get into position before you’re out the damn door.”

He heard her let out a soft
‘pffffst
’ sound but she got her ass high and ready upturned on the bed, even giving him a little wiggle and a smile.

What the fuck am I doing here?

Just do her man, close your fucking eyes and get it done.

Cameron used the four seconds to roll on his Trojan. He sunk his fingers into her hips, getting her into fuck position and then, without a word he brought one hand down hard—smacking her ass as he slammed his dick home from bow to stern.

Yep, she screamed. They always screamed.

Cameron kept his eyes on her ass, the only part of her that he could look at and not need to fight off the sick. He churned his hips, barely feeling the pleasure of her being a woman; she was just another ring-sting-fuck-hole that didn’t give a shit if he used her and threw her away like his dirty rubber.

He would become just another notch on her belt. A story to tell the others of her skanky clown tribe.

The harder he slammed into her, the louder she got. Making crazy fake moans and yelling like a wet cat.

Damn, she’s fucking loud. That shit’s distracting as hell. Shut her up or we’re never going to get this done.

His hand left her hip, reaching around to cover her mouth without missing a thrust. The only sound in the room was their flesh slapping together like a freight train racing down the tracks to nowhere.

As soon as he got her mouth under control, his mind imagined the blow up doll below him was actually
her.
The object of his every wet dream, of every sense of purpose and worth in his fucked up life.

In his mind’s eye, he imaged
her
curves, soft and warm, her doe eyes fluttering as she looked up. The waves of her chestnut hair falling over her face as her mouth opened, and a soft, sweet moan came from her lips.

He let go of the blonde’s hip with his other hand, bringing it down in a loud
‘SMACK’
and filling the room with muffled screams. Her skinny ass turned bright pink morphing into stop sign red with the delivery of a series of harsh ‘smacks’.

Did she deserve it? Did she deserve for him to treat her like a useless piece of garbage? Did she deserve his hand on her ass until it welted and he knew full well sitting down wasn’t going to be an option for a day or so?

No. But what she deserved wasn’t his concern. He smacked Trixie because she wasn’t
her.
He punished her ass because she was the one here and because he hated himself for being right here with her.

He held onto the picture of the face that haunted him day and fucking night as his cock hammered in and out. Finally, he felt the tension rise and like a rubber band pulled too far; he snapped. His cock released a load into the tip of the condom, and he let out a long exhale.

Cameron felt his muscles relax, feeling relief for at least a moment. The flesh that surrounded him meant nothing. Now, he just needed her to leave.

Which, she did. Mewing and protesting, but she left.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You have no idea.” Cameron held her purse outside the front door.

“Do you even know my name—” Trixie’s last words as he cut her off.

“Nope.”

He gave her a soft shove out into the parking lot.

Her heels clacked as she tripped over the curb—hair looking like she’d been on a ride with her head hanging out the car window going 90. Add that to the crazy red lipstick smeared across her face and Cameron couldn’t keep from shaking his head at the cartoon caricature he’d just fucked.

He called her a cab, threw fifty bucks after her and closed the door.

“Thanks! Maybe we can—“ Her voice was mercifully cut off by the click of the lock.

That there is a goddamn nightmare. Get in the fucking shower man. Sheets off the bed, empty the trash can where you tossed that cum sac. Where’s the damn bleach?

After his shower, he felt the darkness descend. The steam cleared, and he could see the man in the mirror staring back with dead ice blue eyes. A sinking indifference welled up that left him feeling like he was falling into a soul sucking black hole.

The muscles in his shoulders flexed and rippled the primal black ink designs embedded in his skin. He rocked slowly back and forth, naked, still dripping from the scalding shower, hands gripping the cool porcelain edge of the sink trying to keep his dinner from reappearing.

It happened every time he fucked one of the many that threw themselves in his path. He imagined
her
face, how she would feel, how it might mean something with her. Only, this time, it was different. He felt her slipping away, her image fading with each passing day and each nameless Trixie he fucked.

Never again. NEVER AGAIN. NEVER AGAIN. NEVER AGAIN,NEVER AGAIN, NEVERAGAIN

The words pounded inside his head until he felt like he could tear the fucking place down.

Who are you? Is this who you want to be for the rest of your fucking life? Why the fuck did you make her your goddamn reason for living for damn near two decades just to run away and then hate-fuck every bitch you could find? Is this the guy she would want? How far down are you going to go before you can’t find your way back?

Cameron glared at the fuck in the mirror. His lips curled back showing off his chipped front tooth and he turned on the cold water, splashing it on his face until his head screamed in pain, and his skin felt like a corpse.

Living death man. Living. Fucking. Death.

He stared back into the eyes in the steamed reflection as the freezing water dripped from his nose and chin.

He spoke to the image that returned his stare, “Never again.”

His words echoed in the small white tiled bathroom as his face splintered into a silver and black spider web.

A sharp pain shot from his knuckles to his shoulder. Cameron’s fist dripped ripe, round spots of crimson onto the stark white porcelain, and he heard the harsh, sharp noise of the mirror hitting the floor around his feet.

Never again.

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