Unbeautifully (23 page)

Cox grimaced. “Prez and Foxy are good, but I’m pretty sure Hawk’s gone crazy, actin’ like an angry hermit and hatin’ on Jase somethin’ fierce for some reason that he’s refusin’ to share with the rest of us.”

Looked like Hawk was still hard up for D.

“Then,” Cox continued, “there was the bullshit with Danny and seriously, brother, I thought Deuce was gonna have her locked up, it was that bad.”

Ripper kept his gaze on his beer even as his entire body jerked to attention at the mention of Danny’s name.

“What was wrong with Danny?” he asked quietly, picking at the label on his beer.

Cox shook his head. “Who the fuck knows? She just stopped talkin’, started gettin’ drunk and high and, get this, hangin’ out with Dirty. She was makin’ scenes left and right, cryin’ and screamin’ at everyone. Straight up, brother, I ain’t never seen a good girl go bad so fuckin’ quick.”

Ripper swallowed thickly, feeling sick to his stomach.

“She good now?” he asked hoarsely.

Cox lifted his shoulder. “She’s better. She ain’t the same but she’s goin’ to college now and her and ZZ are all up in each other—”

Everything just stopped. Screeched to a motherfucking, backbreaking halt. His heart included.

“What?” Ripper interrupted. “Danny and ZZ, what?”

Cox snorted. “Yeah, dude, Danny and
ZZ
. In love. Fuckin’ crazy, huh?”

Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. No.
NO
. Aw god, no. He went from feeling sick to pretty sure he was going to vomit.

“Don’t even ask me how those two got together ’cause I don’t know, but Prez is dealin’ with it. He isn’t happy but he’s a whole lot happier than he was when Danny was actin’ nuts. He knows it was because of Z that she stopped flushin’ her whole fuckin’ life down the shitter.”

No. No. No. Just…no.

“And ZZ’s been takin’ some pretty bad beat-downs, which is a whole lot of fuckin’ awesome if you ask me.”

Ripper wasn’t listening anymore. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. He’d wanted Danny to move on, forget about him, to meet a guy who would be good to her, give her all the shit he couldn’t…he’d wanted…

How long had he been gone? Around a year? One motherfucking year and she was already in bed with one of his brothers. In love? They were in-motherfucking-love?

She’d lied. The bitch had to have straight up lied. She’d never loved him. He’d been a damn fool to think an eighteen-year-old with a foot still in the cradle had been capable of anything other than the selfish desire to fill the hole inside of her that her fucked-up family had caused.

So, yeah. He’d gotten what he wanted. Only now he knew the truth.

He’d never had it to begin with.

“Ripper?”

He had to clear his throat several times before answering. “Yeah?”

“You’re comin’ back with me, right?”

They stared at each other.

“Why the fuck not,” he choked out, then picked up his beer and downed the remaining contents in one long swallow.

One week later…

“Danny,” ZZ whispered in my ear. “Wake up, baby. I fuckin’ want you.”

Yawning, I stretched languidly, allowing ZZ to roll me onto my stomach. Spreading my legs apart, he situated himself behind me and began pushing inside.

I moaned softly as I stretched for him, enjoying the pleasurable burn as he fully seated himself. Spreading my legs farther apart, I dug my fingers into the pillows and arched my hips up, pushing back against him. One of his hands came down over my own, interlocking our fingers.

“Fuck,” he growled, moving slowly in and out of me. “Fuckin’ angel wings are hot as fuck, baby.”

I smiled against the pillow. My angel wings were my newest tattoo, taking up almost my entire back. It had taken eight separate sittings, but the heavily detailed and beautifully done wings, with tips that curled around my waist, ending at my belly button, were worth it. I absolutely loved them.

“Harder, Z,” I whimpered, writhing under him.

His hips slammed into mine, over and over again, harder and harder but…

It was never enough. Sex with ZZ was always good, but something was missing. And no matter what I did to fill the hole, nothing worked. Most times, I didn’t finish.

“Stop,” I said, getting to my knees, pulling away from him. I scooted down on the bed on my back and held my arms out for him. Grinning, he covered my body with his and pushed back inside of me, groaning heavily.

“Go slow,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his backside, holding him close.

I kept my eyes tightly closed as ZZ began his slow, leisurely thrusts, picturing a different man in my arms, moving inside of me, loving me.

But no matter how hard I tried to pretend, reality always ended up winning.

Ripper was gone.

Pulling out of me, ZZ rolled onto his side. “Fuck, that was good. Love you, baby.”

“Love you too,” I whispered, brushing my lips across his shoulder. “Gonna go get something to drink, you want?”

He didn’t answer me. He was snoring, already sound asleep with the condom still on. Rolling my eyes, I crawled over him and hopped out of bed, headed for the bathroom to clean up.

After filling up an empty glass with tap water, I leaned against his bathroom doorway and studied him.

I’d never had any intention of being with another man ever again, and after my embarrassing incident with ZZ, I’d certainly never expected to end up with him. I’m still not even sure how it happened. He just sort of started integrating himself into my life. Watching television with me, eating meals with me, finding excuses to talk to me about pointless, random things, things I’d known he wasn’t interested in and to be honest, neither was I. Not anymore. In fact, I’d had little interest in much aside from sleeping, eating, and of course, breathing. That was an important one.

Then one day, in the middle of a particularly gruesome horror movie, he kissed me. It was an awful kiss; foreign lips and a taste I didn’t recognize, belonging to a mouth I didn’t love. After several emotionally brutal seconds, I had to pull away. But ZZ wouldn’t let me go.

“
I wanna be your man,” he whispered.

Fighting tears, I looked down at my hands.

My man. He couldn’t be my man, no one could.

I’d already had my man…

And lost him.

There would be no one else. It was a fact I could feel deep within me, one that made my body ache in remembrance.

“
Already talked to your old man, Danny.”

Surprised, I glanced up at him and noticed for the first time his black eye and a rather large gash on his cheek. Always so consumed by my thoughts, I’d somehow looked over the fact that ZZ had been badly beaten.

“
Oh my god,” I whispered. “He did this to you?”

ZZ laughed. “I’m fine, baby. It’s worth it, anyway, if it means I’m gonna get what I want.”

Me. He wanted me. He’d taken a beating just for the opportunity to ask me out.

Ripper hadn’t…

Ripper hadn’t ever wanted to tell my father.

“
Kiss me again,” I said hoarsely as my tears blossomed. And he did.

It was still awful. And wrong. But instead of stopping, I kissed him harder, I held him tighter, I encouraged him to touch me roughly.

I continued to torture my already broken heart; I made it hurt, more and more, until I didn’t think I could bear the pain for one more second.

And then he was inside of me.

Like a bullet cracking out of its chamber, in an instant, the pain was gone.

In its place…a quiet numbness.

We’d been together ever since.

Did I love him?

I did love him, like I loved…my brother.

It wasn’t his fault. He was a good man, kind and generous, and he truly cared for me. But no matter how much time passed, every time I climbed onto the back of his bike and put my arms around his middle…

It felt wrong.

He wasn’t Ripper.

Turning away with a sigh, I grabbed a pair of ZZ’s sweatpants and shoved into them, tying them tightly. Searching through the bedding, I found my black camisole and slipped it over my head. Grabbing ZZ’s cigarettes, I lit one, shoved the pack in my waistband, snatched my keys off the dresser, and headed for the door.

Noise greeted me in the hallway, a mixture of happy shouts and clinking glass.

Knowing the boys and their exorbitant capacity for alcohol, I figured the wedding celebration had begun a day early.

Halfway down the back hall, I stopped, checked right, then left, making sure I was alone before unlocking Ripper’s door and slipping quietly inside. After locking the door behind me, I tossed my keys and smokes on his unmade bed, flipped the lights on, and headed for his bathroom.

Three more drags and my cigarette was shot and flushed down the toilet. I undressed quickly, started the shower, and stepped inside, sighing happily under the stream of hot water.

Because he’d left his shampoo and soap behind, here was the only place I could still find a piece of Ripper. Not even his bed smelled of him anymore, and so I took advantage of this small retreat down memory lane whenever the opportunity to slip away arose.

I washed my hair first, breathing in the sharp, clean scent of his generic 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. The tiny sliver of soap that remained, I glided up over my arms and legs, up and down my body, slowly, slower, until I could feel the warming stirrings of arousal deep in my belly.

The soap slipped through my fingers as I pressed one palm against the wall and slid the other between my thighs.

Fuck… Fuck, Danny, fuck…I’m gonna fuck you so hard…you’re gonna scream, baby…

I want that pussy, baby, gimme that beautiful fuckin’ pussy.

Here, now, I could pretend all I wanted. I didn’t have the reality of ZZ smacking me in the face. Here I was surrounded by nothing but Ripper and my memories of him.

Here, I had no problem coming.

Picturing his big, beautiful body covered in scars, in tattoos, laden with heavy muscle, I cried out as my fingers increased their pace.

I was so close, almost there and I needed to finish, I needed it more than I needed my next breath.

It was all I had left.

The shower curtain suddenly ripped open with an audible snap. Startled, I spun around, nearly losing my balance and came face-to-face with…

Ripper.

Poof…he’d disappeared.

Poof…he was back.

Just like that. Standing there in front of me looking the same as ever. Well, he was bigger, his neck and arms were thicker, his clothing tighter. His head was shaved, only a layer of blond fuzz remained, showing off the two long scars on the right side of his skull that I’d never known about.

But still Ripper.

Just standing there looking at me as if the past year of my life hadn’t been one long, bitter stretch of unbearable agony.

I tried to speak, to say something, to move, but all that happened was a large exhalation of shuddered air and a tiny, pathetic squeak.

• • •

Everyone had been happy to see him. More than happy. Fucking ecstatic. After nearly an hour of hugs and back slaps and enough shots to give him more than a good buzz, Ripper had finally managed to sneak away.

The first sign of something wrong was the fresh smell of cigarettes that greeted him inside his room. The second, the Hello Kitty key ring and nearly full pack of smokes on his bed. The third, the running shower.

He knew. He knew who was in there. There was only one bitch associated with this club who sported Hello Kitty bullshit.

What the fuck was she doing in his room, in his bathroom, in his motherfucking shower?

Was she in there with Z? Fucking fuck, he’d flip.

He stalked toward the bathroom, the sounds of soft moaning stopping him in his tracks. Nearly a year had passed yet he instantly recognized Danny nearing orgasm. Raw jealousy and ugly hatred flooded him.

They were fucking in his shower?

Was this a fucking joke? Did God hate him this much?

Or just Danny?

Crossing the tiny room, he envisioned his hands choking the life out of…

He ripped the shower curtain open and all his blood drained straight to his feet.

She looked…different.

Aside from the full back piece that initially spanked him in the face before she’d whipped around, she was thinner, less muscular, and softer looking.

And tired. She looked downright exhausted.

And still fucking beautiful.

Ripper stared at her; her blue eyes wide with surprise, her drenched body heaving with heavy breaths, her slim legs quivering.

He wasn’t sure who moved first. But it didn’t matter; they both were moving, crashing into each other and he took immediate control, wrapping his hand around her neck, shoving her up against the shower wall as he yanked open his leathers. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she hoisted up off the floor and locked her legs around his waist.

Fully clothed, soaking wet, full of seething, jealous anger and a longtime pent-up need for her, he found her entrance and in a single thrust, jammed himself inside of her. Her following scream of pain sending a perversely thrilling spike of pleasure straight through him.

They were fighting more than they were fucking.

He could both see and feel…fuck, he could taste the rage radiating off her. Yeah, well, fuck her, he was motherfucking pissed off too.

It was frantic, desperate, thoughtless fucking. Each of them physically screaming for more, for as much as they could get from the other.

Amping it up, he powered into her, uncaring that her head was bashing repeatedly against the wall, uncaring that her nails had surpassed skin and were well on their way to puncturing his muscle, uncaring that instead of kissing him, she was biting him without restraint and blood was filling his mouth.

Grabbing a handful of her hair, he pulled her head to one side and sunk his teeth into her neck; shudders wracked his entire body as she cried out against his shoulder, again and again and again.

But she didn’t try to stop him. In fact, later, when he stopped to really think about what had happened, he would realize that the more he’d hurt her, the more she’d hurt him, the more pain they’d wanted.