Black (17 page)

I watch from the outside, as the club members pull out of their house, only three members ride away—Pres, Jake, and another rookie. They don’t notice me, but I follow them all the way into the city. Panic sets in when I see him pull into Rose’s new street. The boys stay back, but Pres continues on. He stops at her house, gets off his bike and walks to her door. She opens it smiling. My eyes focus in on her, watching her reaction. Her face scrunches, unpleased with whatever he has had to say. Then the door is closed. Pres places his helmet back on, nods to the boys, and they ride off.

I sit there contemplating what I should do. Should I protect her? I’m mixed, so mixed. But her daughter shouldn’t go through what I had to go through. No one should turn out like me, ever.

Fifteen years old

Liam

I wasn’t always a bad kid, I wasn’t always beaten. I was loved once. Though with that love came the love of a cruel man, one who would do things to my mother when no one was around. She loved with a fire, a fire so bright it could light up a room. The way she used to smile, dance, hug, it was an awesome feeling. She gave it her all, except she had horrible taste in men. My stepfather being one of them.

I remember the day clearly like it was yesterday. It was the turning point in my life, the day I started to do bad things, the day I became the bad thing. I left for school on time, my mother kissing me on the cheek, telling me how much she loved me.

I should have realized something was off, the way she said those words to me were different than how she usually talked to me. It was like she wanted them imprinted in me.

“I love you so much, Liam. Never… ever forget it. You are my sunshine.”

Those words sometimes haunt me still. The look in her green eyes, the way she hugged me for those extra seconds. I should have stayed home.

We didn’t have much to call ours. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment. The living room was my bedroom. I never complained, never needed to. She never gave me a reason to.

That afternoon when I arrived home from school the house was quiet. Usually there was noise, some kind of noise—cooking, singing, something. She was always busy.

I opened the door, but something was jammed behind it. I yelled for her, got no answer back. Then I kicked the door and it flew open. The lights in the house were off, the windows shut. A smell emanated through my senses so bad it covered every aspect of the place.

I turned the kitchen light on first. The place was a mess. The decorations that adorned the walls—pictures of me in every grade at school were smashed on the floor. I walked to her room, not even bothering looking elsewhere. It was empty, except there was blood on her bed. My heart picked up and I started shaking. Then I ran to the only place I hadn’t checked. Where I sleep—my bedroom.

I fell to my knees, the breath I had left me and I was struggling to take my next. She was there on my bed. My blanket wrapped around her throat, dried blood pooled on my bed. I vomited, and then I crawled to her. I touched her and she was cold, so I tried to warm her. I couldn’t. She was so stiff I couldn’t move her.

When I picked up my pillow, I noticed a card, it was in her hand. I found it odd, just a single card lying there all by itself. Then I read it. “Death calls Death.”

I’d seen that saying before. It was tattooed on a man, a very powerful man, a man I wanted to kill and make him pay for what he did.

I was now known as Black. Black as the night sky, Black as my mother’s dried blood. I would get revenge for her, and then I would ruin him… slowly.

My mind is made, her daughter will not have to go through what I went through. Somewhere along the way my mother became a lost memory and I’d forgotten why I do what I do. But now, now I remember, and I won’t let it happen again.

I saw him enter, but I really don’t care. He will be leaving because she and I need to talk. It’s time she knows the truth.

I knock on her door, hard. I hear a scuffle, then the door flies open, and she’s standing there in a baby doll nightgown. I want to tear it off of her. My eyes rake her up and down, taking in every inch of her. When I finally look into her eyes, they’re burning gray. Not her usual blue. She’s pissed, pissed at me. I can tell by the way her eyes bore into me, her stare so lethal that she looks like she wants to castrate me. I instantly want to save my cock, but then I also want to give it to her.

“Bad time,” she announces with rage, then tries to slam the door in my face. My foot stops it and the police officer walks out. His shirt off, her red lipstick smeared on his face. My blood begins to boil, my fist clenches hard. He looks at me with surprise, followed closely by anger. He grabs Rose by the hips and brings her behind him, planting himself in front of me. She looks surprised.

“You need to leave,” he says, seriously and full of animosity.

“Rose,” I say, looking behind him. Ignoring him. “Remember how I did something for you? Well, now you need to do something for me.” Her eyes close and dickhead looks back to her and then to me. “Tell him to leave,” I say, watching her.

“I don’t think so. You will be leaving.” He goes to shut the door in my face, but Rose stops him.

“I’m sorry, I really need to talk to him,” she says to the douchebag.

“I’m not leaving, and you don’t owe him anything.” His arms cross over his chest. His hands are clenched at his side, his face is tight, gritting his teeth.

I walk in past them and look around. I hear the anger in his voice when she asks him to leave again. Then I hear the door slam loudly like it’s about to break from the hinges.

She has flowers everywhere, two glasses of champagne on the table in front of the couch, and her cover slip is on the floor. I now know why he’s pissed, he was about to get lucky and I can’t help but laugh.
Stupid fucker.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Irritation is evident in her voice. She picks up the slip and wraps it around her body, covering herself from me.

“Why? He wouldn’t be able to fuck you like I do anyway.” Her mouth opens, and then she closes it. Not bothering to answer me. “Do you miss me, Rose? Do you miss the way I make you scream?” She stands there, not answering me. I take a step closer. Why? I have no idea. She floods my thoughts, making me forget why I’m here.

“You needed to talk, Black, not fuck me.” Her eyes bore into mine, but lust is evident, and now I’m hard.

“I changed my mind, wipe that shit from your lips and come back so I can fuck you.”

“Fuck off,” she spits at me, except her nipples are hard and peeking through her thin slip, which her wrap is exposing. I step forward and pinch one. She screams and jumps back.

“Just lose the clothing, it will make it that much easier for me to slide inside you.” I start undoing my pants, remove the belt, and then slide my shirt off. She’s standing there watching me, but not moving. I throw my shirt on the floor, and she starts squirming where she’s standing. I kick my shoes off, then my pants. I’m now totally naked and hard as fuck in front of her.

“I can’t do this,” she says while letting go of her slip, showing me cleavage. Her head shakes back and forth. But her eyes say yes. “If I can touch you. If I can touch you anywhere I please, I will let you fuck me,” she says, now looking at me.

My mind is screaming no, but my body doesn’t care. It wants her. Any way I can take her.

“Soft,” I say finally. She smiles, then slides down the strings that hold her nighty up and it drops to the floor, leaving her naked and wanting in front of me. I step closer, but she holds up her hand when I reach for her. Stopping me. She bends forward, kissing my chest, then works her way down. Kissing between my breast bone, then my belly, all the way down ‘til she’s on her knees. She kisses my cock, my breathing heavier than from her touching me. Her hands come up and grab my ass. Then she takes me, all of me, into her mouth and a loud groan escapes me.

Fuck.

Her hand on my ass, squeezing, her mouth wrapped around my cock, pleasing. I came to protect her, and now I’m here to fuck her. What a fucked up life I live.

He allowed my hands on his body, to roam, to kiss, to touch. His face was pulled tight like my hands and mouth would hurt him, his hands dug into his thighs the entire time.

He’s so broken, so unsure. Though now, now as I lay next to him on the floor of my living room with my hand on his chest, my leg draped over his, he isn’t tightly wound, he’s relaxed. And he’s looking at me, with such expression, more than I have ever seen on his face. I give his beard a pull, and he smirks at me and pulls me tighter to him.

As I lay there after multiple orgasms, in complete bliss, I think of what a bad person I am. I was just with Robbie, I thought I could go to the next stage of our relationship with him, but I couldn’t. As I kissed him, I just kept thinking that this isn’t right. There was nothing there, not in the way Liam makes me feel. Even if he doesn’t know it yet, what we have is real. So unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

I touch my lips, his fingers there not long ago. Wiping the lipstick away, removing the other man. Then he made me forget him when his lips touched mine and devoured me.

“How do you love someone? Is it a feeling? Is it knowing?” he surprises me with his question. It takes me awhile to answer him, to gather the words I need. For him.

“It feels like when you’re not with that person that something is missing. It feels like something inside you is crying. It feels like more than words can describe. You don’t know when you love someone, love is just a word. You feel it, you feel it like something is ripped into you, taken over, and holds something in you that no other can replace.” I turn to look at him. His eyes are shut and his expression soft, like the words I just described etched themselves onto him.

“Is she as beautiful as you?” he asks, looking around at the toys scattered in the room.

“She’s better,” I say, smiling.

“I don’t believe it. Possibly the same,” is his retort.

“You think I’m beautiful?” I nudge him.

“I think you’re bewitching.” I turn to face him, but his eyes are closed.

“Bewitching?”

“Yes, you bewitch me. And I can’t seem to make it stop. Make it stop…” he pleads with me. His eyes are still closed tightly.

“Can I have you?”

“You already own me,” he says on a broken whisper.

I wake to a knock on my door, and it doesn’t stop. The banging becomes louder and louder. I turn to see Liam asleep in my bed. He carried me in last night when I fell asleep on the floor with him. He kissed me awake when we reached the bedroom, and he made love to me. It was different than the last time. His eyes watched mine, intensity staring back at me. My hands held his hips, holding him to me. He kissed me until we both came, then sleep took us away with him tucked in next to me, making the world feel right.