Brutal (15 page)

She takes a bottle, which looks just like the other one, and puts some in my hand and puts some in hers. I rub the conditioner into her hair while she rubs the conditioner all over my cock. I moan then on auto pilot start fucking her hand. It’s slippery shit, so she tightens her grip, and holy fuck. It’s not as tight as her pussy would be, but it’s a solid plan b, and I’ll take it. My plan to give her time has failed miserably. She won’t take no for an answer here and, truthfully, what’s going down right now in her tiny shower is the most intense moment of my life so far.

She leans her head back and rinses it off. I watch all of that conditioner run down her throat, past her tits, her stomach and pussy, down her legs and into the drain. She’s working me tight and fast. She pushes me back against the far wall and drops to her knees. I’m looking down at her and she’s looking up at me, eyes wide open when she puts her mouth on me. I clench my ass, because I’ve never felt anything like this before and I don’t know how to handle it. She reaches her hands up, and digs her blunt nails into my ass cheeks and I moan so loud it echoes off the walls. The sound sets her off, and she starts sucking harder and taking me deeper. When she take her hands from my ass and works my balls again, I wrap my hands in her hair to pull her away and keep her close at the same time. She’s bobbing up and down on my cock, and it’s too fucking much.

“I’m gonna come,” I grunt, pumping my hips.

“Mmmhmm,” she moans and I feel that shit in my toes.

She‘s paying special attention to the tip now, and when she gently slaps my balls, I explode so hard and fast I have no time to adjust positions, I shoot in her mouth before I can stop myself. She let me release down her throat and I worry she could choke or some shit so instead of riding it out, I pull her up but before I can even speak she kisses me hard.

 “Good morning.” She smiles. “You taste delicious.”

“Woman…”

“Hmm?” she says, shutting off the shower and grabbing a towel.

“You’re fucking amazing.” I smile.

“I haven’t cooked for you yet. You still have time to change your mind,” she says, laughing as she's stepping out of the shower and handing me another towel. Little does she know nothing on this fucking earth could ever change my mind about her. I could care less if she can cook, clean, recite the national anthem or knit a fucking scarf as long as she’s mine.

“I can’t wait,” I say.

Over a cup, I ask her what’s on her agenda today.

“I need to meet with Peaches this afternoon, but after that, I’m wide open. Did you have something in mind?” she asks me

“Peaches?” I question.

“Hooker,” she replies.

I choke on my coffee “A hooker? You’re meeting with a hooker because?”

“I need a reason?” she retorts, lifting an eyebrow. “What? You think I need lessons or something?”

I laugh because it’s fucking funny. I’m pretty sure she could teach Peaches a thing or two.

“Okay, no lessons. So why are you meeting her?”

“I’m teaching her to defend herself.”

“Why?”

“Because she may sell her body, but that doesn’t give a man the right to put his hands on her.”

“So how’d you meet her?”

“Kicking the guy's ass who was roughing her up.” She says, like it’s no big deal. Although, for her, it isn’t. Which explains her meeting with Darnell.

“So you train her so she can protect herself?”

“That and she gives me info when I need it,” she admits. “I train several hookers, actually. They know a lot of shit. You should talk to the captain about putting a few on payroll.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him about that,” I say, laughing. “So when do we leave?”

“You’re serious about coming?”

“Yeah, and if you need me, I can help. Offer advice, let her try it out on me.”

“Deal. We leave in an hour,” she says, smiling. “Should we practice in the meantime? I don’t think I rinsed all the conditioner out.”

“Abso-fucking-lutley.” She smiles and drops the towel. If I wasn’t before, I’m officially a morning person now.

I
make it a point to stay in fighting shape. So having jell-o legs from the shower this morning is a new thing for me. I smile because I barely made it out of the shower without my legs giving out. I’m going to make a note to up my squats. Do I feel guilty about the workout I gave him? Not even a little bit. I had to know what it was like, and he also needed release, because leaving him hard and achy couldn’t have been a picnic for him, but he never complained. I had to know what he felt like, tasted like, and I don’t regret using his needs against him. He needs to understand that when it comes to him, I know what I want.

We finish our cups, dress, then Rogan pulls his Yukon-on-steroids out front to pick me up. I climb in and immediately inhale, taking in his scent. I could pass out if I keep this up. He smells that damn good.

Rogan asks me what I want to listen to on our way to meet Peaches, and I tell him ‘whatever’ because I’m curious to see what he listens to. When I hear Seether come through his speakers, I approve. His deep voice finds a home in my bones. As I listen to him, I fight the urge to join in, because this is his moment. I’m just happy to be a part of it.

We pull up to Russell Industrial, parking nearest to our entrance. He puts the truck in park, looks over at me, and unbuckles my belt. I smile, reaching for the handle when he stops me. I turn to look, and he brings me over for a soft kiss. Looking in his eyes he notices my confusion and kisses me again, harder. I see couples show each other affection in public, so I know it’s normal. I just never considered that it could ever be
my
normal. Granted, we aren’t in public, per se, but if anyone wanted to look into the truck, they could.

Realizing that I don’t care if they do, I bring my hands up to pull on his beard. He groans, and then attempts to pull me onto his large lap. I’m game, except for this large center console that gets in my way. Improvising, I lift up his t-shirt, and my hands find his massive chest, and I stroke his chest hair. I fucking love his chest hair. He doesn’t have a six pack, but he is so god damn solid that you could bounce a Buick off him. Panting hard and coming up for air, I realize we’ve been going at it longer than I thought. I pull back further and stare at the face I’ve come to obsess over. He covers my tits with both his big hands and squeezes. Have mercy… Not wanting to stop, but knowing I have to, pisses me off.

I look at my phone and realize Peaches is late.

“She’s late,” I say, before dialing her number. “She’s never late.” When I get voicemail, I leave a message for her to call me back.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I need to make another call,” I say, dialing Baby. He continues to knead my tits, and it’s damn near impossible to hold the phone.

“Kharma, girl how you been?” she says picking up on the third ring.

“Solid, Baby. Listen, you hear from Peaches?” I ask, trying to focus on the phone conversation and not Rogan’s fingers pinching my nipples.

“Girl, she ditched out on me Friday, and I ain’t heard from her since. I’ve been worried. I was gonna talk to you about her tomorrow,” she replies.

“She ditched out on me today, too,” I admit.

“She didn’t come to the club Friday, neither? She said she was comin’ to see you. Heard you got busted. That’s some shit,” she says.

“I didn’t see her. She could have come when I was at the station, though. You hear from her, you let me know, and I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I say.

“Weird shit’s been goin’ on. Girls are goin’ missin’. Heard you hit up on Darnell, but we need to talk. Bitch to bitch, you know,” she says.

“Yeah, I know. Watch your back, and try to stay off the streets,” I tell her. “We’ll talk tomorrow, and I’ll come up with something.”

She agrees, and then we disconnect. My gut is knotting up. This isn’t good. Hookers may be of the gypsy mentality, but this was important to Peaches. We aren’t friends, but I do worry about her. Her not calling me has me concerned. But her ditching out on Baby? Something’s wrong.

“What’d she say?” Rogan asks, bringing me back from my musings.

“She hasn’t heard from her since last week.”

“Is that normal?”

“No. They’re tight,” I say. “She would have told Baby, me, or Darnell.”

“What’s your gut telling you?”

“Fuck if I know, but it’s screaming at me.” I sigh. “Something’s wrong, I just don’t know what yet. You wanna come with me tomorrow to meet up with Baby?”

“Yeah. I got your back, remember?

“You hungry?”

“I could eat,” he says, with a grin on his face.

“What sounds good?” I ask, realizing too late what I just asked, and what I
knew
his answer would be.

“Taking you to my place.” Now I’m hungry as well, but not for food.

“Your place, then.” I smile while he leans over and tightens my belt.

“Safety first,” he says, kissing me. “I got precious cargo.”

Rogan lives about two miles from Russell, which is about a mile from me. I like knowing that he’s close to me, you know, in case I need him for anything. I notice that the traditional two story brick is in good shape when we pull up. There are no flowers or bushes, but I didn’t really expect him to have them. He opens the door for me, and once I let my eyes adjust, I take in his space.

The basics are here: couch, flat screen TV, dining table, and a clock on the wall. Not much of a personal touch, but he’s a pretty private guy. I follow him into the kitchen and sit down at the table. Rogan then proceeds to make me the biggest ham sandwich I have ever seen. He adds a pickle spear on the side, hands me a napkin, and asks me if I want a beer. I tell him that I don’t drink, so we settle for water.

We eat and make small talk, and then he takes me to see the rest of the house. I particularly liked the bedroom, because it has the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.

“Hey I have to make a call to Rafe, so why don’t we go downstairs to chill,” says Rogan, and we make our way back downstairs. 

After his phone call is finished, I’m all set to ask Rogan all about his life and what made him become a cop when my phone starts to buzz and chime in my pocket. I try to ignore it, but he’s not going to let me.

“You gonna answer that?” Rogan says, staring at me intently.

“Hadn’t planned on it, no,” I answer, not looking him in the eye.

“Could be Peaches,” he says, and I feel like shit because he’s right, and I hadn’t thought about that.

Looking down at my screen, I’m depressed to see that it’s not Peaches, but Tony. I decide to tuck it back in when Rogan gives me a look.

“Who is it?” he demands, having seen the look on my face.

“Tony.”

“What’s he want?” he asks with disgust. Yeah, like I asked him to blow up my phone.

“I don’t know, considering I didn’t answer,” I reply sarcastically

“What does he want, Venessa?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. I can tell he’s getting angry. I’m not avoiding anything, it’s just that I don’t care about what he wants. He’s interrupting my time with Rogan, and I want to forget Tony exists.

“He said to call. Then he said to come by the club.”

“Call him back,” he snaps, getting angrier with me.

“Alright, fine,”

“Put it on speaker,” he growls menacingly

I give him my best dirty look, but do as he says, only because I don’t want Tony between us. He picks up on the first ring.

“Baby, you’re really making me work for this, aren’t you?” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Don’t call me baby,” I snap. “What do you want, Tony?”

“Well, now, that’s a loaded question,” he says, openly laughing now.

Rogan’s glaring daggers and me, and I don’t like it. Last week men weren’t even on my radar and now I’ve got two of them whipping their dicks out and slapping me with ‘em, and it’s exhausting.

“You have three seconds before I hang up.”

“I want to see you,” he says hastily. “I thought we could go grab dinner.”

“I can’t Tony. I’m busy.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” he demands, getting angry.

“Both.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps. Taking a big breath he says, “But like I said, I can be patient, for now. That is, unless you want me to come by your place?”

Before I can respond, or better yet hang up, Rogan white knuckles the cushions, going full on red in the face. “She said no, Gallo,” he growls into the phone. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, oblivious to the tension in the conversation. “Keeping my girl safe, then?”

“It’s what you’re paying me for,” he answers back sharply.

“Indeed. That being said, I remember your job description clearly being protecting her, and leaving the rest to us. So, the next time I fucking call to talk to
her
, I suggest you do not put her phone on speaker, or you’ll find yourself unemployed, and I will fucking protect her
myself,
” he yells and disconnects. Rogan throws my phone at the wall; it bounces off and lands next to the fireplace. God bless the Otter box.

He invades my space, breathing heavily. His fists are clenching, and the aggression is working me up. I don’t like that he’s holding back. I reach out, but he stops me. I definitely don’t like that. Rogan covers the sides of my face with his hands and looks ready to stroke out. My hands wander to their favorite spot, and he straight up growls at me. He leans over me, but keeps the weight off of me, and so I open my legs to pull him closer.