Brutal (19 page)

R
ogan is pacing, which I’ve come to realize is his ‘tell’. He’s pissed. No doubt, my Lone Ranger trick today pissed him off, but he was outside, on the opposite side, so I should have waited? I had Macy find him, didn’t I? I’m also on the fence about Rafe. Especially how he looks at Macy. The fact that those two are partners makes no sense to me.

Mind fuck aside, the bigger issue isn’t those two and their weird relationship, it’s the link with these girls. Rhonda is still a mystery, Peaches and Baby ditching me, some drugged out teenager, and Macy’s ‘special sauce’ being used on these girls. I don’t believe much in coincidence, and I also need some time to put it all together. There’s a big piece missing and I intend to find out what it is.

Today was out in the fucking open, in a populated area. It just doesn’t make sense. I should probably hit Miguel up. He’s been straight at the club so far, but I know he’s still in the trenches. Maybe Max, too. Not Tony, if I can help it. The club is where I need to be. I’m too distracted – sex is getting in the way. Shit, Rogan’s getting in the way, and it pisses me off that I feel like I can’t have him, the sex,
and
my justice.

“Do you know why having a partner is important?” he asks and, yep, I was right.

“To watch your back, yeah?”

“To watch your back, to strategize, and support you,” he says. Before I can say anything, he continues. “A partner is someone you trust with your life, and they trust you with theirs. A partner is the one you wait for when shit goes down. A partner is the one person on this whole god damned planet that you fucking care if something happens to them. You would fucking kill for them.”

“I---“ I begin, before I’m cut off.

“You don’t know the meaning of the word partner, because you’ve never had one. Now you do. You will learn what partners do, or you will get yourself killed. That don’t work for me.”

“But Macy—“ I try again

“Is not your fucking partner!” he screams at me. “I am! I ain’t gonna watch you kill yourself because you’re fucking blinded by revenge! Get your head out of your ass and be my partner, Venessa! I was right fucking outside! You could have yelled, or fucking waited! You are one woman. One tiny woman, who wouldn’t stand a fucking chance if a male ever got a real hold of you! You’ve had luck on your side so far, that’s it! Luck and surprise, but it won’t last. You want to make a difference? Then you work with your partner! You work with me!”

“I’m not—”

“Shut your fucking mouth, and listen,” he cuts me off again, and now I’m getting angry. Clenching my fists and focusing on my breathing, it’s all I can do not to smash his face in. “You are my partner in all things. I hope you fucking get that. If something happened to you and I wasn’t there…how would you feel if something happened to me because you weren’t there, being
my
partner?”

“I wasn’t trying to—“ Fuck, this is frustrating.

“You aren’t alone anymore. You have a partner now,” he says, stalking towards me. “You own me, or don’t you get that yet?”

With that, all the fight leaves me. I look him in the eyes and I get it. He’s upset because he cares. Doesn’t he see that I’m trying? That I care, too? I’d end it all if he wasn’t sharing air with me. Taking the final step to him, I wrap myself around him and make the only concession I can.

“You own me, too,” I say, not breaking my stare. “I’ll try harder. For you, for us.”

“Fuck.” He sighs rubbing the side of my face. “When I watch you work…fuck, I mean when I saw him hit you…you can’t take risks like that anymore, Angel.”

“Rogan,” I begin. “I said I’ll try harder, and I will, but you have to at least try to understand that to me that wasn’t a risk. It’s just what I do.”

“Angel, no,” he snaps. “You can’t keep this up.”

I take a step back, then another, followed by another.

“I
can
keep this up,” I say. “I was living for
this
long before I started living for you, fuck this is happening too fast!” Panicking, I head for the door, because I have to get the fuck out of here.

“Stop,” he says, blocking my escape. “Look at me.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I live for you too,” he says gently, and I can’t do anything else except stand there and wonder why he bothers making the effort. “You make me question everything now. I’ve never given a fuck about anyone until you. Let me live for you, too, Venessa. But I need you here with me, safe.”

“I’m not a cop,” I remind him. “I may come from one. I may know a few. I may be attempting to sleep with one. But I am
not
a cop. I don’t live by the same code you do, and I probably never will. You accept that, I’ll accept being your partner.”

“That’s what you think this is?” He laughs, but it’s not with humor. “You think this is about sleeping together? We’re the same god damned person! We both walk that line, every fucking day! I’m not fucking playing at ‘
sleeping with you.’
I’m the only guy you’ve ever let fucking touch you,” he snarls, grabbing me and wrapping his hands around my waist. “I’m the only guy you’ve let kiss you,” he grazes my neck and bites down on my shoulder. “I’m the only guy you share your nightmares with,” he says, pulling my head back to meet his bright eyes. “I’m sure as shit the only fucking guy who’s ever been, or will ever be, inside you,” he growls and takes my mouth. I crawl up his body and wrap my legs and arms around him to give myself over to him. I want to be his partner, in all things. More than anything I want to be good enough for him “I’m the guy that was fucking made for you.”

“Show me,” I say, grabbing his beard with both hands.

“I’ll fucking show you,” he says, attacking my mouth and neck. He carries me to my bedroom,
our
bedroom, holding me up with only his hands under my ass. When he lays me down and looks at me, I realize we’re beyond words again.

He strips off my workout clothes and shoes, and in return I damn near Hulk Hogan his shirt off and use my feet to push his jeans down. The shoes, he handles himself. When he hovers over me trying to spare me his weight, I make a decision to have him in all ways starting right now. His weight on me is the least of my worries. Not having
him
is. I pull him onto me and, though he hesitates, he must see that I’m with him on this. When I do finally have his full weight on me, I have the urge to run, but the bigger urge is to wrap myself around him and hold on forever. We’re still clumsy, and that’s okay, our hands go everywhere and nowhere. We bump teeth, and I probably grab his beard too hard, but he never complains. His hand makes it between my legs, and I don’t know or care if it’s the right way, it’s our way. Just his touch alone makes me wet instantly. I reach for his big cock, causing him to shudder. I like that. What I like the most is the way we watch each other. I can’t imagine being with him any other way.

“Do you want the lights off?” he murmurs to me.

“No,” I decide. “Leave ‘em on.”

“I thought women liked the lights off?”

“I’d know this how?” I laugh.

“I like seeing you anyway. They stay on.”

We don’t really know what to do next; we gradually undress each other so we’re both naked. He crawls up the bed, and I open my legs to welcome him. I start to feel nervous, because as much as I want his weight on me I don’t want to believe I’ve come further than I really have. He’s on his knees, running his calloused hands up and down my legs, and it’s obvious we’re clueless, but we’re too far gone to stop. I want more, need more but I have no idea what to do, what to ask for and I’m pretty sure the panic is showing on my face. 

“Keep talking,” he demands softly.

“I’ll keep talking if you keep looking at me. I’m starting to get—“

“Can’t take my eyes off you.”

“I need you to move up some, so I can touch your cock.”

“Fuck, Venessa, it’s yours,” he groans, crawling up my body. He doesn’t need to hand it to me, it knows the way. Like our bodies are two magnets. “Open wider,” he tells me.

“Again,” I say, and he looks confused. “My name, say it again.”

“Venessa, open those legs for me,” he says. “I want to touch you deep, Venessa.”

I start to shake, but not from fear. I open my legs as far as they can go, confident that I’m safe.

“Grab your cock for me,” I whisper and beg at the same time.

“Open yourself for me,” he retorts, and I’m mesmerized by his rhythm, so I begin my own. I take my hands from his body, put them between my own legs, and I spread myself for him. When Rogan moans, I start touching myself. I’m not shy or self-conscious, and I know that’s because of him.  

Watching him work his cock, but holding onto me at the same time, grounds me. It must be grounding him, too. I didn’t know feeling like this was even possible. I’ve heard about it, read about it, and called bullshit on all of it. But it is possible, and it’s fucking life changing stuff.

I’m holding myself open with my left and rubbing myself with my right, and it’s impossible to keep still or quiet. We watch each other like that for a time, but I’m getting close and impatient. I have all the time in the world to touch myself when I’m alone, I’m not about to waste a hard cock when it’s staring me in the face. I need his eyes on me, his mouth on mine, and that cock buried deep. I have no doubt it’s going to hurt, but accepting the hurt willingly is totally different than being forced. I’ve waited ten fucking years. I refuse to wait any longer. While most girls used their teen years to party and fuck around, I didn’t. I’m doing it now, on my own terms, with the only man that makes me unafraid.

“I need you now,” I say, panting.

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

 “It’ll be a good hurt, I promise. It hurts more to wait.”

“I need you bad,” he says “We need a rubber?” We both freeze at the same time.

“Uh…”

“Fuck!” he yells.

“What are the chances you have one?”

“I never thought—“

Pulling him back to where I need him, I decide to tell him that I don’t want anything between us because it didn’t seem right.

“Fuck it,” I say. “I know we’re both clean, I have to feel you with nothing between us.”

“Don’t want to use ‘em either,” he growls. “Nothing comes between us. Nothing.”

“You should know I can’t have kids.”

“You want ‘em?”

“No,” I say. “I just felt that you should know.”

He puts his hands on me, effectively ending all conversation on my end.

“Never had shit that’s mine, got you now. Don’t need nothing else.”

My god, I have never heard anything so fucking beautiful before in my whole miserable life.

He runs his huge hands over my belly, focusing on my scars that are where a normal woman’s child would one day grow. I’m not sad about it; the fact is, you are supposed to love your kids more than you love yourself. I don’t love myself very much, so to love a child like that, then lose it, isn’t something I could ever deal with. Besides, after what was done to my insides that night, a child would not grow there, no matter how much I wanted it to. Good thing I don’t. Just because you’re given a womb doesn’t mean you have to fill it. 

“So god damn soft,” he whispers, rubbing my belly and sides. I lean up to get reacquainted with his magnificent cock, and can’t believe as different as we’re built, how we complement each other perfectly.

Stroking his cock with minimal finesse, I want to bring him near my mouth and fight off the urge to swallow him whole. Staring at it, grabbing it, I’m kicking myself for not reading a book or watching more porn. 

“God you’re big,” I murmur to myself, because I can’t believe men are made like this.

I’ll fit him in there if it’s the last thing I do. Stroking my lips with his fingers, he mumbles how wet I am. I show him that I’m ready by pulling him down toward me, so I can cradle his body. Yes, the weight scares me, but if there is one person in this world that I know instinctively won’t hurt me, it’s him. We don’t have experience, but down deep I know this is the best way to do it. If I can get us through this, I can get us through anything. I can see his worry for me, but this is right, I know it is. I never expected him to be the one who needed convincing though. 

“If you need me to stop, I’ll stop,” he promises.

“I know,” I say. “I trust you.”

“Don’t close your eyes,” he pleads. “I need you with me.” 

He’s sweating so much that I use my hand to wipe his face. I should feel guilty his first time is with someone like me, but I’m not. Our eyes are both heavy but open. He looks down briefly, to make sure he’s in position, then the moment we’re aligned, his eyes come back to mine and I know this is going to be okay.

When he enters me just a bit, he pauses to gauge my reaction. Yes, I feel pressure and stretching, but I also have an abundance of scar tissue so I think it’s dulling the pain, at least that’s what the doctor said might happen. I take my heels to his ass and pull him closer. The stretching turns to burning and it’s a pain I welcome. It’s a pain
I
choose. It’s also a pain that’s temporary, because when he moves just a little farther in, the burn lessens, allowing my muscles relax.