Christine Zolendz - Brutally Beautiful

The thought made me dizzy with want.

Dinner was deplorable.  Not only was the food absolutely unnaturally the most delicious thing I had ever eaten, I could not stop myself from staring at Lainey’s mouth the entire time she ate.  The pure shade of pink was the natural hue of her lips.  The full flesh of them as they pressed against her glass of wine.  I tried to focus on a figurine that was sitting alone on one of the shelves.  It was a sculpture of a human brain. Who the hell would keep that in their home? The need to walk over to it and crush it in my hands was so strong that I could taste the dust of the ceramic pieces as they floated past my own lips in my mind.

Lainey’s green eyes kept meeting mine.  Each time, her eyes would narrow and hold my stare.  She didn’t fear me, didn’t back down. She was a complete contradiction to anyone I had ever met before. I smirked to myself thinking of her underneath me, the smooth skin of her legs wrapped around me, the burn of her nails as she clawed them down my back.  Climbing over my body, riding me deep and fast, until my body convulsed inside her.

My hand gripped my fork so firmly against the plate it bent at an awkward angle.  Fuck.  How was I going to explain that?

Lainey gently pushed her chair back from the table and dabbed a napkin to her lips, “Anyone need more wine?” she asked, walking into the kitchen area, swaying her hips so sensually it could have killed me.  Maybe it did, maybe it did kill me and this was my hell.  My brain fogged up, hearing everyone around the dinner table talking but not being able to understand a word of it.  My focus was completely concentrated on Lainey’s subtle movements as she went about pouring more wine.  With her back to her guests, she filled her goblet and pressed the edge of it against her lips, sipping softly.  Placing her glass back down, she reached up and swept all of her thick dark hair into a wild sexy bun at the nape of her neck.  I was drowning, lost in a twisted sea of darkness.

The smooth creamy curve of her neck against her dark skin made me clench my fists tighter, almost snapping the damn fork in half.

Jesus H. Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?

Then the darkness of her hair slipped over her shoulder as she turned her head, laughing at something somebody had said.  And there, against the nape of her neck, hidden beneath the tumble of her hair was a dark tattoo.  Give me your hurt.  The tattoo above the elegant dress, against her ivory skin was an erotic mix of good and bad, heaven and hell, and I wondered what her story truly was.  How had she come here?  Why?  Who hurt her?  What was she running from? And, why the hell do I care?

I wanted to hate her, break her, and keep her the hell away from my sick, twisted mind.  But, there was no point in lying to myself, was there?  Because I wanted a taste of her even more.  I wanted her.

I didn’t like not being in control.  That wasn’t me.  I needed out of here.

I grabbed Morgan’s hand and yanked her up from the chair she was sitting on, still eating, apparently.  She gave a little choked yelp as I tugged her to the door. “Well, thank you for a lovely evening.  We have to be off now.  Happy fucking birthday.”  I slammed the ridiculous excuse for a door behind me and walked through the icy night to my truck.

“Finally,” Morgan breathed behind me, her hands reaching out to grab mine.  “I can’t believe we had to sit through that.”

Ignoring her, I clicked open the locks on the truck, opened the driver’s side door and shoved her in past the steering wheel climbing in after her.  Ramming the key in the ignition, I blasted the heat and grabbed for her waist, placing her on my lap, her dress hiked up to her bare thighs as they straddled mine.  “Don’t talk, unless you’re telling me how hard to fuck you.”

Morgan clawed at my face and kissed me hard.  My hands were on her bare hips and I chuckled deep into her mouth; leave it to Morgan not to wear any panties so I would have easy access.  I should have fucked her right at that dinner table.  I should have done it just to see the look on Lainey’s innocent face while I fucked like an animal in front of her.  The thought got me harder than I had ever been in my life.

Morgan slid off me and unzipped my suit pants; my cock sprung free slapping against her hands.  I wasn’t wearing underwear either.

She fisted my cock with both hands, wrapped her lips around the head and started to pump and suck.  “Fuck.  That’s good,” I whispered, pressing the back of her head into me, gagging her.  She hummed and moaned, vibrating her approval against my skin.  I lessened the pressure of my hand and moved her head to the rhythm I wanted and rocked into her.  Images of Lainey looking out the window, finding me fucking Morgan’s mouth in the front seat of my truck, almost pushed me over the edge.  Pulling her mouth off me, I spun her around to face the windshield.  She steadied herself against the dashboard and lifted her ass into my face as I yanked a condom out of my pocket, ripped through the foil with my teeth and rolled the fucker on.  Then I slammed into her, making her yelp in surprise, then giggle and moan.  I made her ride me fast and hard, pushing and pulling at her ass to get her to move fast enough for the feral fuck I wanted.  I knew Morgan liked it hard anyway.  That was why we played. She needed a man that wasn’t afraid to fuck her and I needed a woman that I could break if I needed to.  I never thought about Morgan as I fucked her. She wasn’t real to me. It was like there wasn’t a woman attached to the pussy I pounded. All I thought about were the sensations around my cock.  I felt her pulse and tighten around me when a small ivory hand pushed back the curtains to one of the windows in the trailer, and the thought of Lainey had me surging forward and coming so hard I saw spots before my eyes.  Holy shit.

“Get off me,” I grunted.

Lainey’s big green eyes were in my head.

“That little girl in there got you twisted up or something, Kade?  You were staring at her like you wanted to devour her.”

Rolling the condom off, I still felt the tremors in my cock, but fuck me if they were from Morgan.  “Get out.  I want to be alone.”

She stepped out with pursed lips and slammed the door.  I didn’t wait to see if she got in her car safely, she wasn’t mine to worry about, so I rolled out over the gravel drive and pulled onto the main road, tossing the full condom out of the window.  Out of guilt, I’d end up texting an apology later, but she knew how messed up I was and she expected me to be a detached piece of shit to her, she got off on it.

 I tried focusing my eyes on the painted traffic lines that glided quickly beneath the hood of my truck as I drove purposefully in the middle of the street.  Chuckling to myself, I turned off my headlights and sailed into the darkness, taunting death to meet me head on.  Pressing my foot down lower, I increased my speed, wondering to myself if other people ever did this.  Played with death, such as I did.  I’m sure there’s a fucking fetish club for it that I could find online.

Unfortunately, I got home unscathed.

I ran right to my computer, opened a new document, and thoughtlessly titled it Green-Eyed Woman.  My blood and soul poured through my fingers as they moved across the keyboard, raw and angry, chilling.  The setting is a dinner party in a small quaint mobile home.  Sprays and splashes of red wine and blood crashed violently against its cream colored walls as the massacre begins.  The beautiful girl stared with wide green eyes as the world turned crimson around her, but she’s not scared.  She’s fearless.  Blood dripped from my fingertips as her pure unscathed lips touched mine, pulling the hate and anger away from my soul.

Pure unadulterated raw sex emerged from the pages.  Erotic touches, words, and violence twisted together to form an epic story of horrific proportions, with a sick tangled web of obsession and passion.

I had never been afraid of anything in my life with the exception of one violent day from my youth, which completely changed the person I was then, to the empty shell, I was today.  Since that day, I’ve kept everyone and everything away from me so I don’t hurt anyone with my wrath and my belligerence.  But this girl, this woman, she was slowly captivating me, slipping the fear, the hate, and the rage away from me with her mysterious poise and calmness in my world.

When the sun rose over the evergreens that surrounded my home, I had over fifty thousand words to my next book.  I didn’t stop either, I couldn’t.  My muse would not shut the fuck up.  The obsession consumed me for days.  The girl, I knew would be an obsession for longer.  I wanted to scrape the words I’ve written off the white of the screen, grab them tightly in my hand and smash them against her face.  Have her feel my words against her flesh, smear them into her pores, and have them seep into her skin.

I needed to see her again.  I needed her to hate me and to stay far away from me, because I wanted to consume her completely.

Empty wine bottles and burgundy bottom stained glasses littered the trailer.  Fran had tried to be a gentleman and attempted to help me clean after Dylan’s birthday dinner last night, but we didn’t get too far.  From the moment Bree and Dylan slipped out of the door to sleep back at Dylan’s place, Fran’s hands were all over me.

When his lips met mine, I felt like I was watching myself from a distance, trying to find some sort of feelings or something…some glimmer of want.  But all I could think of was the life I’d run away from.  How I thought I’d be able to delude myself into thinking that I could possibly date a man after what I’d been through was laughable to me.  My body tensed up, a small whimper escaped from my mouth and I simply pushed myself away from Fran’s pawing limbs.  My past was going to haunt my every kiss from now on, wasn’t it?  Every time another man places his lips or hands on me, I’m going to cringe and wonder what it is he really wants to take from me, aren’t I?

I did my best to compose myself and offered a silly excuse about getting to know one another better and cleaning, I had to clean.  Fran, the gentlemen he was, understood and helped clean a bit, but I just called it a night, and when he gently asked me, I agreed to another date out of guilt.

After he left, I had another miserable night of sleep, tossing and turning, nightmares pecking at my grey matter.  Nightmares about blood and fists, hospital ceilings, dark shadows on city streets and moonless desert nights listening to explosions like music in the air.  Nightmares about my brother.  Nightmares about Kade and the way his dangerous eyes watched me during dinner, and the way I liked it.