Page 12 of The #2 Guy

“He wasn’t a good man.”

I get up so fast my stool crashed to the floor. “Is that all you have to say? Are you fucking kidding me? You tore my life apart. Murdered my parents in cold blood all because ‘he wasn’t a good man?’ Fuck off Johnny! You are much worse than he ever was!”

“You don’t know what you are saying—you were a kid.”

“I wasn’t much younger than you were. How old were you when you made your first kill?”

He sighs, then leans his elbows down on the other side of the counter. His meaty biceps pop as he naturally flexes. “Do you want to hear the truth about your parents?”

“Your truth is hardly the real truth…”

“Come on Christine, you are the one woman I gave pieces of myself to that I swore I’d never… Your father was a made man. He was making extra cash on the side selling something my family did not want a piece of. He sold babies. Your mother worked at the clinic. Your father gave the doc a cut. The babies lived… sold to someone else…”

“Stop!” I cover my ears with my hands. “They were good parents... they loved me…”

“Babies weren’t the only thing he traded. He scoured shelters, the slums, looking for the broken souls he could lure with the promise of money and a full belly…”

“You’re sick… Telling me lies! Trying to justify the blood on your hands.”

“I was there, but I didn’t pull the trigger.”

My chest gets tight. My throat constricts. I can’t breathe through the pain choking me. I slept with this man. Let him take me a million times in as many ways and he was present when both my parents were killed in cold blood. I hate myself.

“Don’t do this. Stop picturing it; taking it apart…” he demands, huskily, rounding the counter.

I hold up both hands. “Stay away. Don’t touch me.”

“I can’t stop myself. I’m dying to touch you. Baby,” he breathes, grabbing me tight. I’m in his bear-like embrace. He’s so big. So strong and smells so damn sexy. My nipples ache as I’m pressed against his chest. My palms curl into fists, refusing to hug him back. “Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are…,” he drops off realizing what he’s said. He meant my parents but when spoken aloud applied to me.

I’m tired. Hungry. Confused. Weak. Memories I’ve locked away slowly escape. Memories I purposefully pushed aside. The babies mom brought home from work telling me she was making extra money taking care of the newborns until their mama’s felt better. I was a little girl. I took my mother at her word no matter thinking it a bit strange. What he said makes total fucked up sense. Tears fall like pouring rain. I choke on the flood.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” His meaty hands stroke the back of my head and I snuggle into his warmth by laying my head against his chest as the sound of his steady, strong heart—the one I broke, comforts me.

“This is so fucked up. We are so fucked up,” I rasp, clinging tighter to him.

“Tell me about it,” he murmurs as he pulls back to cup my chin. My eyes shutter as his lips kiss away my tears. It’s not long before his mouth is on mine and all the hate between us dissipates into pure passion. It’s an explosion of longing after a long separation. I forget he was my mark, my enemy and just remember the lover he was to me. The lover he still could be if I let down the walls erected around my heart.

“Christine, baby. I thought you had gone forever,” he murmurs against my throat as he hoists me up using his large palms on my ass. I wrap my legs around his waist. He turns depositing me on the counter. One large palm moves under my shirt, cupping a breast. He feels so good. Johnny always was the best lover I’d ever had. He’s earthy, bold and gives zero fucks about anything but pleasure. “I need to taste you baby. It’s been so long.” His lips and tongue move across my skin. He moves back, spreading my knees apart. My black yoga pants are peeled down my legs. Seconds later Johnny’s face is buried between my thighs, hungrily feasting on my core like it’s a five-course meal. He’s loud. Brash and when his tongue and lips find my clit, I’m a goner. My hips lift on their own needing to fuck his face. I come, shattering into pieces, still hating myself for how easily I come for this man.

I push off the counter. His face is flushed. He breathes hard with clenched fists as he stares after me. “Go run, little girl. You know this shit between us is inevitable, not over. Do you hate yourself for wanting me? Get over it. I’m not the monster. Your father was. And you almost got us both killed for some fucked-up misguided revenge. When you’re done with your self-pity. We’ll talk. Or fuck. Hell, we’ll do both.”

“I hate you.” I yell, raising clenched fists of my own.

He smirks, with lips still slick with me. “Hate away, baby. You’re stuck with me. Forever. You know that.”

I respond buy running away and slamming my door. He can lock me in. I need sleep and a plan on how I’m going to survive my new captor. I fall asleep by sobbing for all I’ve lost.

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