Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6) (16 page)

“You,”
he mouths, patting the spot on the bed beside him. “Come here.”

My
heart stutters in my chest. My eyes travel up his bare chest, stopping on his
mouth before finally meeting his eyes. The blue dark and intense as they rake
over me. I know what will happen if I do what he asked. I’ll get all those the
things he gave me outside and then some. Heat floods my entire body at the
thought of all he would do to me. Of what I would do to him.

“I,
uh,” I murmur, unable to make my legs move.

“Ireland,”
he says, sitting up in the bed and reaching out his hand for me to take. “Alone
time isn’t something you take for granted in this house. Get your ass over
here.”

He
waggles his finger, gesturing me to come to him. I can’t. The replay in my head
goes from our very heated moments outside, to my conversation with the girls.
Then, I see him bumping Hunter’s fist. The look on his face is smug, so full of
fucking arrogance that it has my fists balling at my sides. The hurt and anger
bubble over and suddenly I am staring into the tear stained eyes of that
seventeen-year-old girl, crying on my basement floor.

No.
That isn’t me anymore. I am so much stronger than that.

“Are
you sure you wouldn’t rather wait for everyone?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Isn’t
showing better than telling? Hell,” I say, throwing up my hands as I take a
step toward the bed. “We could fuck on the floor of the den. I’m sure it’s a
hell of a lot more entertaining than whatever movie Aiden has picked out.”

“What
the hell’s got in to you?” he asks, swinging his feet off the bed and pushing
to stand.

“You,”
I say, jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake
believing I could do this.”

Clamping
his hand around my wrist, he pulls me tightly against him. His jaw tips down
and his eyes bore into mine. “I don’t believe I heard any complaints. When
exactly was that, baby? Was it when my tongue was buried in your pussy, or when
you were riding my cock and clawing up my fucking back like a wolverine?” he
shrugs, his face hardening. “Guess I couldn’t hear your regret over you
screaming my name and begging me never to stop.”

“The
fucker’s remorse came later,” I snap, unable to hide my hurt any longer. “Right
about the time I found out I fucked manwhore Mack and became just another
irrelevant piece of ass for your brag book.”

Dominick’s
nostrils flare, a roar rumbling up from deep inside him. “Don’t kid yourself,
and don’t lie to me. You feel this between us just as much as I do. It’s always
been here, Ireland. And clue the fuck in, there’s nothing irrelevant about what
you do to me. There’s also no denying that you feel something for me. I see it
in your eyes when I catch you watching me. It’s in your voice when you say my
name.” His eyes study me carefully, as if searching for something deep within
me.  Or maybe within himself. Bringing his free hand up, he slips it into my
hair, pulling me to him so that our mouths are just a breath apart. “You can
honestly look back on any time I have touched you since you walked back in my
life and feel regret?”

“I’m
sorry,” I reply, pushing the tears back that threaten. His thumb brushes over
my jaw, sending a tingle down my spine. I could easily let myself fall into his
embrace and get lost in the sweet words and empty promises I know won’t matter
tomorrow. I could bury the hurt, bottle it up and refuse to face any of it, but
where would that get me? I can’t choose who I love, but I do have the ability
to affect the damage they can do to what is left of my heart. This is about
self-preservation. “I can’t do this,” I say honestly, forcing out my words. “It
hurts too much.”

“You
have no idea what pain is.” His lips take mine in a searing kiss. The heat
barrels throughout my entire body, lighting every single nerve ending I have on
fire. Releasing my wrist, he slips his arm around my waist, anchoring me to him
as he commands the kiss. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, not asking for
permission, but taking what he wants without any apology. Possessing me with
every breath. He growls, his teeth clashing with mine as he devours me.

Ripping
his mouth free of mine, his chest heaves. His eyes meet mine, burning with
determination. “I have spent the last seven years of my life trying to forget
you. Trying to forget this. But, I can’t.”

“Guilty
conscience will do that to you,” I return, shoving his hands away. “What do you
want from me, Dominick?” I ask, pacing around the bed and throwing up my hands
in frustration. I need distance from him, enough, at least, so that he can’t
touch me. I can’t think straight. “Want me to admit that I fell in love with
you? That I still do?” Pressing a hand to my chest, I try to force back the
tears, but they spill over my eyelids and down my cheeks. Everything I have
bottled up for the last eight years is swarming around in my head at once. All
the things that have been left unsaid come pouring out and I am helpless to
stop it. “Or how about the fact that I have spent the last eight years throwing
myself into booze and drug filled encounters with random strangers? Men, women,
both, it didn’t fucking matter. Who they were or where they went once I was
done with them didn’t make a difference to me. All that mattered was not
feeling this!” I scream, pounding my fist against my chest. “Do you want to
hear how unbearable the ache gets when I’m alone and remember how it felt to be
in your arms and to see how your smile widened when our eyes met? This hole you
carved into my chest gets so big sometimes that I could drown in it. Goddamn,
I’d sell my soul for amnesia. I just want to forget how much it hurts to be in
love with you for one day, but I can’t.” Sagging to the mattress, I swipe at
the tears with the tips of my fingers, but it’s useless. I have opened the
flood gates and now there is no turning back. I laugh, shaking my head at how I
must look to him right now. “Funny how they say the heart breaks. It never even
missed a beat, the blood still pumps as if nothing ever happened. My mind,
that’s where the damage should be. Then maybe those memories wouldn’t be able
to pop up and cripple me without warning. So don’t tell me I don’t know pain,
Dominick. I know all too well what it feels like to have your feelings stepped
on by the people you love and their hidden agendas.”

“Baby,”
he whispers, the tone in his voice only breaking me further.

“Don’t
call me that!” I scream, grabbing his shirt from the bed and throwing it at his
chest. “Get out!”

Rolling
to my side, I turn my back to him and bury my face in one of the pillows. What little
that was left of the dam holding back my emotions breaks and I fall apart. I
cry, but not only for us. This emotional break down is twenty-five years’ worth
of loneliness, hurt, heartache, shitty neglectful parents, all mixing with what
I feel for Dominick combined into one giant emotional ticking time bomb, and I
don’t see the waterworks stopping anytime soon.

Shit Storm Tornado

Mack

This
day has officially become the hell that won’t fucking quit.

The
unbelievable shit storm that has torn through this house today, like a
relentless tornado, has just circled around for round seventy-three. I am on
point today for making every woman within a mile radius cry. Sounds like it’s
time to visit my mom… Though I am fully aware that something I did caused the
current apocalyptic style meltdown Ireland is having, I have no fucking clue
how the hell it got kicked into motion.

I
have never claimed to understand women, but I feel as if I should have seen
something like this coming. Because, had I, I would have tried to prepare.
Somehow.

I
take a step toward her then take two back quickly when her body jolts. Crossing
my arms over my chest, I watch her body shudder as she sobs. I don’t know what
to fucking do here! There’s no manual for this. How do you even begin to
console a woman who more than likely wants to castrate you and bury you out
back? Is there a way to hug her while restraining her limbs from inflicting any
sort of bodily harm on me?

Stepping
closer, I defensively widen my stance and size her up like I am about to
diffuse a thermonuclear bomb in the middle of a children’s hospital.

Fear
not, hormonal weeping woman, Super Mack is here to save the fucking day!

Her
crying slows, sobs dulling down to something that sounds more like a whimper. Yanking
the pillow away, I toss it to the bed and hoist her into my arms. She starts to
struggle, and I brace for impact.

Super
Mack’s kryptonite is blunt force trauma to the junk.

She
knows this.

“Don’t
fight me,” I plead. “Just let me hold you. That’s all. I promise.”

“I
hate you,” she breathes, but her body relaxes. “Put me down. I told you to go.”

“No,”
I say, settling in the chair and tucking her body tightly into mine. “Hate me
all you want, Baby. I’ve earned that.”

“Why
are you doing this?” she whispers, her face pressed into my neck.

Leaning
down, I kiss her hair and inhale her scent. I can’t help myself. It feels so
right to have her here, in my arms. “Because, one day, I’ll earn your
forgiveness.”

***

Two
days later, I have learned there is one thing I hate more than seeing a woman
cry. Indifference.

Ireland
has gone from being full of fire to the point of having me fear for my life and
the safety of appendages, to this new version where she only answers me when
spoken to. The smart-ass comments that usually make me hard as a rail, are
replaced by one-word monotone sentences.

Most
men would be totally okay with the new way of things. Not me. I know Ireland is
bottling everything up. As much as I could be enjoying the lack of confrontation,
I miss the fire that clashing with her ignites in me. I long for the spark in
those beautiful eyes and the sexy up to no good smile that grips me by the
dick.

Who
knew I could fuck things up so much without even really doing anything…

Going
through my mental checklist, I do my seventeenth walk through of the bus before
sending a text to Henry, letting him know we’re set. All the bags are loaded,
the cabinets and fridge stocked full, and I am more than ready to get this show
on the road.

“Anything
change in the ten minutes since your last walk through?” Hunter asks from the
driveway where Jazzie and Brannon are driving around battery powered
motorcycles.

“Nope,”
I reply. “Your big, ugly ass recliner and all three packs of your bacon are
accounted for.”

“Three?”
he asks, staring at me. “Either you bitches are putting me on a diet or someone
is playing a sick as fuck joke.”

“Cholesterol
is an issue in the over thirty crowd, Hunter. Plus,” I say, walking over and
slapping him on the chest. “No one wants a frontman with love handles.”

"Wow,”
he groans, looking down at Jazz. “He’s callin’ me old and fat. Did you call
Ireland fat, too? Is that why she would rather slaughter furry bunnies and
bathe in their blood than be anywhere near you?”

“Very
funny,” I bite out, my eyes finding her, sitting on the far corner of the
porch.

Sitting
sideways on the black and white glider, she has her bare feet propped up on the
edge, ankles crossed as she writes in a notebook. Instead of veiled around her
face, her hair is pulled up off her neck in some haphazard looking ball. Some
of the brown and purple strands have worked themselves loose and are blowing in
the light afternoon breeze.

I
have caught myself watching her a lot the last few days. How do you miss
something so bad that isn’t even yours to begin with? I had my chance to lay
claim to this woman eight years ago and I didn’t. It was better that way. Or so
I thought.

Our
fight, and her admission, was a rude awakening. I held her as she cried herself
to sleep. It was a moment I never thought I would enjoy, but I find myself
willing to do anything to just hold her in my arms like that and breathe her
in.

Yes,
I am fully aware I am being turned into a pussy by a woman who won’t even look
at me.

However,
when sleeping beauty woke up, I no longer existed in her world. When she does
address me in any way, it’s as Mack. Dominick no longer exists to her. The
munchkins and the girls get her smiles, the laughs on occasion, but they aren’t
the same as before. Something is fractured there and I know, without a doubt, I
am the one to blame for the loss of her shine.

This
is what loving me does to someone, ladies and gentlemen.

“Hurts,
doesn’t it?” Daisy asks, patting my arm. “When you give your heart to someone,
and they throw it back at you; the damage done makes it impossible to ever fit
back inside your chest the same way again.” Reluctantly, I take my eyes off
Ireland and look at Daisy. Her blue eyes are soft, her smile sad. “Did you know,
at the end of the day, it wasn’t Landon being in love with Tad that hurt so
much?” I blink and focus on her face. Daisy has talked very little about
everything that happened between her ex-fiancé, and coincidently Grayson’s
half-brother, but I know it was one fucked up situation. “I loved Landon very
much. Nothing, of course, that could ever be compared to the way I love Gray.
When you feel betrayed by the one who you have fallen for, it makes you
question everything. I could’ve easily driven myself insane with second
guessing of every single moment we spent together. Do you know what got me
about the entire thing, Dominick?” she asks, shocking me by using my real name.

“No,”
I say, forcing out my answer.

“Finding
out that the entire time they were laughing at me behind my back. I was a joke.
Knowing that, you can understand why seeing that type of thing would be hard
for someone who has been in love with a man for a large portion of her life,
and finally think they are getting somewhere, to have others see them doing
their orgasm touchdown dance out of a window, while still wearing his shirt
over her torn bikini.”

 “Wait
a minute,” I say, stopping her. Thinking back, I kick myself. “You all saw us?”

“Bingo,”
Daisy informs me, then pushes up on her toes to slap me in the back of the
head.

“Ow!”
I yell, shielding my head. Running my fingers through the now much shorter
strands, thanks to Jazzie and a little help from the barbershop by the
elementary school, I wince. “Would you stop with the abuse?”

“Consider
this your wake up call, Dummy.” Arching her brow, she jerks a chin in Ireland’s
direction. “I am cluing you in on a huge woman secret here, so pay attention.
Women lash out when hurt by those we love. We scream, cry, even get drunk and
say what shitheads all men are when they fuck up, because yes, you do and you
are.”

“Thanks
a lot.”

Taking
my hand, she shakes her head. “What I’m trying to say is: you know when a woman
has been truly hurt when she chooses to ignore you. Since there is nothing left
hanging between you now but silence, you see clearly enough what you have to
lose.”

“She
was never mine,” I reply, my eyes going back to the porch and finding the
glider empty.

“Of
course she was,” Daisy huffs, knowingly. “You know why Hunter trying to turn
you into the next generation pussy plunderer never worked?” I don’t answer. I’m
stuck on her referring to me as a pussy plunderer, wondering where the hell she
comes up with this shit. Am I a pirate now? A ginger pirate, with a peg leg,
and a brightly colored cock, instead of a parrot? She slaps me again, this time
in the chest. “Because, Dummy, a cheap imitation only dulls in comparison to
the real thing. Sex is nothing but an act, Dominick. Connecting hearts,
entwining souls, and building something that no one can tear down; that’s where
true satisfaction comes from. In making love.”

“Okay,”
Henry says, stepping out the garage and interrupting Daisy’s deep insight.
Tapping his watch, he jerks his chin toward the bus. “Time to load up. Can’t
have you behind schedule before you even get on the road.”

While
everyone says their goodbyes to those staying behind, and load onto the bus, my
mind lingers on the mostly one sided conversation Daisy and I just had. Some of
what she said sounds crazy, a lot of it I already knew, but there isn’t one
thing I can say isn’t true.

Ireland
comes strolling out of the house, her black and red sundress swishing around
her knees. The top is black, almost corset looking, with embroidered blood red
skulls and roses, making her look like an erotic Little Red Riding Hood. Her
eyes meet mine, the blue rolling almost like storm clouds.

What
I wouldn’t give for her to talk to me. Scream at me. Fucking knee me in the
balls. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, it can’t be worse than this.

Her
eyes aren’t the same when she looks at me now. Ireland doesn’t look at me like
I have the possibility to make everything better by smiling at her. She doesn’t
even look at me with that electrifying hatred that makes my heart beat out of
my chest. The look in the blue eyes that I can’t close my eyes without seeing
lately, are now full of disappointment.

There’s
also something else. Something beyond the sadness, that I can’t quite put my
finger on.

Jazzie
runs up and throws her arms around Ireland, breaking the first real connection
I have had with her in days. “Bye, best friend.”

Dropping
her bag, Ireland wraps her in a hug. “See you soon, Munchkin.”

 Releasing
the kid, she scoops up her things and says goodbye to the others before
disappearing onto the bus without so much as a glance in my direction. “Mack!”
Jazz screams, running my way, carrying a purple gift bag with bright blue
tissue paper sticking up through the top. This is the first time she and I will
be separated since she came to live here. Though she isn’t my child, there is a
part of me that is sad to leave her behind. I can’t imagine how Hunter, Chase,
and Grayson must feel being that they do this all the time.

“What’s
in the bag?” I ask, lifting her into my arms. Wrapping her arms around my neck,
she giggles before planting big, loud, kisses on each of my cheeks. “A
present.”

“Really?”
I ask, chuckling. “For me?”

“And
Ireland,” she corrects me. Cupping my face with both hands, she stares at me,
her brows knitting together. “This will make everything better.”

“Don’t
let Big Man sing my solos, ya feel me?” Kissing her forehead, I place her back
on her feet and take the bag from her outstretched fingers.

Giving
me a wink and a thumbs up, she turns and runs toward Hunter and Chase who are
arguing beside the steps of the bus. I can’t hear what is being said between
the two, but the minute Jasmine gets close, they both stop talking immediately.

Making
my way over, I catch up to Henry. “Remember,” he starts, “follow the timeline.
Aiden will lose his shit if it’s off. Camaron and he are good about keeping it
on point. Driver’s name is Aaron. I already met him. Hell of a guy; little
pretty if you ask me, so you better watch him with Ireland. She has a tendency
to pick off the road crew members when she gets bored.”

Over
my dead fucking body.

“I
got this, Big Man,” I assure him. “I’ve seen you in action enough to know how
it works. Your girls need you focused here.” Looking at Jazz, I smile. “Watch
my girl through, would ya?” I ask, clapping him on the back. “Someone’s gotta
make sure she doesn’t paint the dog and cover Brannon in sharpie tattoos during
naptime.”

“You
know,” he says, rubbing a bare spot on his bicep, “I was tellin’ Rae this
mornin’ I needed some work done,” he chuckles. “Go on. She will be fine. Check
in when you stop for the night.”

“You
got it, Boss.”

We
pile onto the bus. It’s like a cruise ship leaving port. Everyone is waving and
blowing kisses. It’s probably a bit dramatic and over the top, but it’s just
how it is around here. Nothing we do is normal, or calm for that matter.