He accepts me for me and, unlike most, doesn’t expect anything in return.
I am possessed as I march over to him and fist his T-shirt in my hands. He doesn’t waver. He stands tall, allowing me to take what I want. “Why did you kiss Tawny?” I cry, grasping him harder.
His lips tip into a lopsided smirk. “She is merely a means to an end.”
“So what am I?” I am clearly a masochist and want to know it all. “You kissed me. Am I merely a means to an end, too?”
Bull licks his upper lip, smoldering before me and fiercely confessing, “I don’t know what you are.”
“Do you like her? Tawny?” I add, suddenly needing to do something with my mouth other than kiss Bull.
“No,” he replies bluntly.
“And me? Do you…like me?”
The air sizzles between us, but I welcome the burn.
“I like the thought of seeing you beg…seeing you bound…seeing you bleed,” he concludes, while I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“And do you feel that way about Tawny?”
“No. I do not.”
I don’t understand it, but Bull dances with violence the way most do with love. But if this is the price I have to pay to get close to him, to continue this feeling of being…alive, then I’ll do it. I want it all.
“And what if I want that?” I ask, skating closer and closer to the gates of hell as I get lost in his eyes.
“Be careful what you wish for. I’m not the Prince Charming in your story.”
“I don’t want Prince Charming. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the princess who needs rescuing.” I dare him to fight me.
“I will break you,” he warns, and there is nothing melodramatic about his claim. It’s a promise.
“I don’t believe you,” I challenge, standing on tippy toes to bring us eye to eye.
Bull’s arms are rigid by his side. He is allowing me to manhandle him, to take my frustrations out on him, and that empowers me beyond words. If I were to do this to any other man, they would have lost control the moment I played rough. But not Bull.
He is coolly composed, showing no emotion, while me, I am a bundle of nerves. Being this close to him has every fiber of my body throbbing in want, need, desire. I have never felt this carnal…hunger before. It’s addictive, and like an addict, I want more, more, more.
When he lays his cards on the table, I’m certain I will buckle with his promises.
“If you’re looking for a good time, then I can do that. If you want someone to”— he pauses, before smirking—“fuck you and lick your pussy until you’re screaming for more, then I can be that man. I can rough you up if you want, make you beg.” My pounding heart almost spills onto the floor. “I can be whatever you want me to be. I just can’t be your forever. I do what I want, when I want. I don’t do romance. This is who I am. Don’t try to fix me because I was broken long ago.”
My cheeks blister because if that was supposed to scare me, it’s done the complete opposite. There are no empty promises, no confusion as to what this, to what he is. Any sane woman would leave with her dignity intact, but not me. His warning only provokes me.
I don’t have a chance to speak, however, because his cell chimes, severing the dangerous current between us. Instantly, I let him go, allowing him to reach for his phone in his back pocket. When he answers, I notice he keeps the exchange short, disconnecting the call within a few moments.
“I have to go.”
“Oh?” I reply, hiding my disappointment. I was hoping we’d continue where we left off. But the call just ruined the mood.
I want to ask who it was, but I don’t. “Okay. I’ll drive you back.”
He nods and heads for the truck. His urgency has me wondering where he’s going. And more importantly, who called. I want to ask but decide not to push my luck.
Bull is a complex man, and like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to his darkness. Before I met him, I didn’t even realize those depravities were inside me. But they are. They excite me. They make me feel alive.
There is no turning back now.
Bull
Kong called me with an address. It was that easy.
I messaged him early this morning to tell him I was interested in whatever his boss was offering. I knew what the terms were but played dumb when he told me the ins and outs of what I was to do.
There’s a fight tonight in some deserted neighborhood about an hour away. The rules were simple—fight and win. For my trouble, I would get paid a thousand dollars. If I won, I would get double that. Kong told me this was just a base rate. With each fight and win, the amount would increase. But the money isn’t my motivator—seeing him dead is.
So I agreed.
I called Lotus and told her I wouldn’t be in tonight. I said I was sick. I hated lying, but this is my chance to put my plan into motion. Losing isn’t an option. The more wins, the closer I get to earning Kong’s trust.
I need to know who the other two assholes he ran with are. The thing about a successful predator is that they study their surroundings and familiarize themselves with every variable to ensure that when they strike, they do so with efficiency and skill.
There is no room for errors. Or distractions.
Gripping the steering wheel, I follow the GPS, refusing to think about her—again.
Tiger is a distraction, a dangerous one. Today, it took every shred of control I had not to give in to temptation and deliver on the things I promised. It was supposed to scare her, give her insight into who I am and what I would do to her.
I expected her to run. She didn’t.
Taking me to her childhood home and telling me about her life and her son were her way of trying to connect with me. For some unknown reason, she likes me. I don’t know why. She sees something in me that I don’t.
I’m trying my hardest to keep her from my shit, but it seems she doesn’t want to stay away. I can never tell her what I have planned, so it doesn’t seem fair to start anything with her because she is bound to get hurt. But I’m finding it harder and harder to fight these urges inside me.
When the GPS spits out that the destination is a couple of blocks away, I’m thankful I’m able to act on these urges in a different way. I’m looking forward to making someone bleed.
Parking my truck, I look at the derelict warehouse in front of me. There is no one around. Locking my door, I slip my hood over my head and keep my chin downturned as I make my way to the steel fence. It has a small hole cut out of it. Ducking low, I step through it and scope out my surroundings.
The warehouse is dark, hinting no one is inside. But the deserted exterior is just a front for what’s really going on inside or, more specifically, what’s going on inside the soundproof basement. I shoulder open the unlocked door, ensuring to close it behind me.
Kong was a little vague in his instructions—enter through the door in the main office. Peering from left to right and up over the three floors, I wish he’d been a little more specific because I see about thirty doors that could be classified as the main office.
But I know this was done with intent. He isn’t going to spoon-feed me, so this is a test—one that I don’t plan on failing. I’m not going to play lucky dip, hoping I stumble across the right door. I’ll use my senses.