Tainted Love Read online

  Resuming his hold on me against the wall, he smiles, kisses me deeply, and drops to his knees.

  “Spread your legs,” he commands, licking my inner thighs.

  I do it, panting and trembling to the warmth of his tongue.

  I feel like exploding as he laps it over my pussy, concentrating solely on my clit and I have no choice but to brace myself with his head as I moan and push against his face.

  He holds my hips steady, growling and pleasuring me with exact precision as my body trembles, my heart pounds and I begin to climax into his mouth.

  “Oh. My. God,” I pant as the orgasm courses through my body.

  When I can’t possibly take any more, I push his head away and he stands, licking his lips.

  “You’ve always tasted of such sweet sin, and you are the only thing that makes me feel alive. I might own this body, but you, Vixen, own my soul. Turn around,” he commands.

  I grip my hands into the back cushions of the sofa, still reeling from the orgasm and trying to decipher his words. He takes no time and drives himself into me, stretching and filling my swollen pussy as I whimper.

  “You had better brace yourself,” he hisses. “This is about to get rough, Vix, hate-fuck rough.”

  He’s solid in his plight, fucking me as hard and as fast as he can, it’s how we both like it as I moan out in yearning.

  My body is tensing, building toward release again. His presence is intense as he grips my hair and growls under his breath.

  “This, Vixen, is. How. You. Affect. Me,” he growls with each relentless movement. “There is no man on the planet who will worship you the way I do.”

  The lust in his tone and feel of his hand feverishly working my clit sends me over the edge into another orgasm.

  “Holy shit, Whiskey,” I gasp, riding it out, dazed by the force.

  I feel his release begin, his body locking firmly against mine as he spills into me.

  “Fuck,” he grunts.

  We stand motionless, catching our breath and I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling as his hand sweeps my hair to the side. He places gentle kisses down my neck, then my shoulder, his stubble amusing me as he does.

  “Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he teases, “I think we should talk about the incident with Helen this morning.”

  I turn and look at him, throwing my sweater and panties back on in the process.

  “You want to talk about her walking in on us?”

  “No… I want to talk about her nailing you with a fucking glass.”

  “Oh. Well whatever, its nothing new, and she got lucky. Her aim usually sucks.”

  He pulls me close and cups my face, his gaze dead serious.

  “This isn’t a joke, Kirsten.”

  “I never said it was.”

  “Then tell me what the hell we are going to do about it. She’s going to end up killing you one day.”

  “She’s not,” I say pulling away from him. “I have a plan and don’t give me that stupid look as if it’s going to be reckless, Pax. It’s a good plan, but I haven’t worked out all of the kinks yet.”

  His eyes narrow and he sighs, taking a seat on the sofa. Patting his lap, he tells me to sit, so I do.

  “And what are the kinks?” he asks raising his brows.

  I shrug, not wanting to tell him. I know he’s not going to like my idea of payback.

  “How about I let you know once I’ve worked out all of the details?”

  “Before you initiate the plan… right?”

  “Sure,” I nod.

  “Good,” he winks, “now you can sit and rest that bashed-in head of yours while I make us something to eat.”

  I smile and find my comfy spot on the sofa, feeling exhausted. He’s right as usual. My head hurts like a motherfucker, probably because of the blood rushing around my body from the intense orgasms.

  Sometimes I’m positive Pax knows me better than I know myself. He’s the man I would marry if I was the marrying kind. But I’m not, and I don’t think he is either, especially since I know it bothers him that he can’t have kids, which is one of the biggest reasons people tend to get married. Legitimacy, what a joke!

  I’d give my right hand not to be related to Satan, never mind the fact my father never should have married her.

  But Pax is different, he’s talked about the things he would do if he had kids, even mentioned wanting to adopt one day. I know he would be an outstanding father. He’d be that dad. The one that never missed a game or a recital, the one that taught the little shits how to ride a Harley before they were legal, and the kind of dad I had. Smart, strong, and fearless.

  But legitimate baby Paxes can never happen though, not for Whiskey. He got screwed out of those hopes, literally.

  He’s only ever told me once about the night it happened. I knew after hanging out with him for less than three weeks, that he was the man I wanted to lose my virginity to, and he knew it as well. So, when the night came, he was hard into the whiskey and we were both desperate to fuck, I was worried about not being on birth control or having any condoms, and that’s when he told me about the abduction. He thinks he was four when they snatched him, he’s never been sure, just remembers living in an orphanage of some sort when they lured him from the park into the van. A man and a woman, he calls them The Imposters, and I’m not sure why.

  What they did to him is unspeakable, and makes Helen look like an angel. The things they made him do for food, the way they beat him and tortured him and the others. They groomed and abused them until they gave in and did what they were told.

  I cry every time I think about it. I’m crying now. Crying for him and crying for them. I can’t even handle the images inside my head.

  The only thing I know for certain is those sick sons of bitches permanently made sure there would be no pregnancies as a result of the crimes they were committing. They found a gruesomely twisted, inhumane way around having to worry about abortion costs, missed birth control pills, and the price of condoms.

  My heart breaks for Pax, but he survived it and the minute he found a way out of that hellhole at seventeen, he took it and he’s never looked back since.

  I don’t even know if he remembers telling me, so I’ve never brought it up and I never will. It bothers me that he thinks my mother is abusive after knowing what he’s survived, and whether he knows it or not, I’m in love with him. I just can’t take the chance of giving him my heart when he could take off at any time.

  It’s the only thing that scares me.

  Losing him.

  Money can’t buy Satan’s sobriety and it sure as shit can’t force Pax to stay, but when I get done crucifying my mother, it’ll guarantee one thing: she won’t be laying a filthy fucking finger on Whiskey. My Whiskey, anyway.

  Four

  Timing

  (Two Weeks Later)

  They say timing is everything. I think it’s a crock. Time is a killer, it’s the echoing sound of a ticking clock, and endless torture for those of us who want to get shit done yesterday, but instead have to wait patiently for the right time.

  I woke up four days ago to an empty sofa. Pax is gone, again. Off on one of his skewed sabbaticals, I suppose, slaying his demons or whatever, but I see this as a good thing for once. It’s time to put my plan in motion to slay my own demon.

  I’ve invited the douchebag lawyer over, and he’ll be here in a few minutes… seems he and Lucifer have spent the last two weeks soiling her sheets but at least he won’t have far to walk. If I didn’t know better, I’d have to say Lucifer is quite smitten with Wallstreet. He’s well off, not bad looking, and I can’t say I blame her. I also can’t say I’m cool with it either. Pax was right as far as I can tell. Gabe is into me. I’ve noticed his eyes on me a few times when I’ve been in the main house, although I’ve ignored it. Pax was quick to make his presence known when he noticed it once or twice as well, but I ignored that too. But now, since there is no genie in a bottle of Whiskey to interfere, with my strategy
, I’m going all in.

  Gabe thinks I have questions about the will, which I do, just not the ones he believes I will ask. I glance in the mirror, adjust my breasts, and check myself out, just as the bell rings. Showtime.

  “Gabe,” I say, welcoming him in. “Please have a seat.”

  “Good morning, Kirsten.”

  I smile and close the door behind him, taking in the way he scans the room first and then his eyes hover over my appearance.

  It’s safe to assume he was trying to see if Pax was here. He’s clearly attracted to me by the way his eyes dart away from my exposed stomach and lack of attire.

  I’m purposely dressed in my thigh high boots, jean shorts, and braless underneath my sheer lace crop top, precisely to garner this exact reaction.

  “So, Gabe,” I say taking a seat beside him. “Did you get the papers I left with Natasha last week?”

  He clears his throat and moves several inches to his left, seemingly uncomfortable with how close I am.

  “I did and I filed them with the clerk’s office.”

  “Fascinating,” I say, crossing my legs.

  I watch his eyes wander down to check me out briefly before he crosses his arms and pins me with a stern look.

  “Did you invite me here to ask me something important, or is this one of the games your mother warned me about?”

  He gestures all around me, his vibrant green eyes narrowed.

  “That depends,” I laugh, “what is it she told you?”

  He shrugs, “Just that you have a tendency to try to seduce her partners.”

  “Interesting,” I say sarcastically as I lean in and whisper in his ear; “This would be my first attempt. Usually it’s her who fucks all of my friends first.”

  He sighs, his breathing deepens, and I can tell he’s reacting to my presence, so I back off and give him some room.

  “Can I offer you a drink?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I think I should go.”

  “Why? What are you afraid of Wallstreet? Pax or Satan? Because Whiskey isn’t here, and I had the locks changed. There is nothing to worry about,” I assure, lightly running my fingers up his thigh.

  He doesn’t move, just sits staring at me, tempted I assume. His breathing is visibly faster, and I can tell he’s contemplating.

  “What is this about? Are you trying to get back at your mother?”

  “Maybe… or maybe I’m just lonely.”

  Adjusting his position, he runs his hand through his thick hair and sighs.

  “Look, you are a very attractive young woman, Kirsten, but I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Well, your dick seems to think it is,” I point out, noting he’s hard and straining against his pants.

  I grip it firmly and stroke it, climbing onto his lap as I do, and I press my chest against his, listening to him moan quietly.

  “You like me… I can tell,” I whisper, “and there are so many things I can do for you that Helen can’t. It can be our little secret; I won’t tell Pax if you don’t tell Satan.”

  I feel his dick grow even stiffer as I trace my tongue over the soft edge of his ear and begin to lay rough kisses down his neck.

  “We have to stop,” he breathes out.

  With my wrists in his hand, he pushes me onto my back, rendering me useless and for a brief moment, he stares at me with angst until he gives in and his lips collide with mine.

  I can’t get enough of his delicate tongue as his hand makes its way south and into my shorts.

  I moan into his mouth and he lets go of my wrists so he can undress in a flurry as I work quickly to rid myself of my clothing as well.

  In the heat of the moment, the only person I can seem to think about is Pax, so I decide I should keep this oral for the time being.

  Gabe has a generously sized dick, although it’s not quite what I’m used to, but I drop to my knees and lick the length of it, before stopping.

  “Did you fuck my mother last night? Please tell me you washed this thing.”

  “What? No! And I showered this morning.”

  “Good,” I gargle out as I swirl my tongue around the tip of his dick.

  Just the thought of Satan fucking this guy turned me off completely, but I’m going to finish the job just in case I need ammo for later.

  I take him into my mouth slowly, studying his length with my tongue, before I start to suck him hard.

  “Ahhh, that feels fucking incredible,” he mumbles. His hands are planted firmly on my shoulders as I begin to ease him in and out of my mouth at a steady pace. He’s not overly lengthy like Pax, and I can take him all the way to the back of my throat.

  I can feel the back of his thighs starting to tense as he rocks himself to the same rhythm I’m using.

  His dick is pulsating in my mouth as his hand finds its way into my hair, tugging at it, so I quicken my pace realizing he’s close.

  “Yes, like that, right there.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” I hum.

  My lips are becoming numb as I continue sucking and moaning; guys like it when they think it’s turning you on, at least I know Pax does. He loves when I moan and slobber during a blowjob.

  Gripping my hair, Gabe stops abruptly.

  “You need to stop now if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth,” he warns.

  I hum uh-uh and keep my rapid pace as I smack his ass, hoping he will get the idea and understand I plan to swallow.

  He thrusts into my mouth hard, pressing my face into his pubic hair and I begin to feel the pulse of his liberation.

  “Fuck… holy fuck, God yes,” he moans.

  Swallowing the continuous spilling of his cum, he finishes, and I release his dick, kissing it lightly before I get to my feet.

  “That was incredible,” he says, pulling up his pants. “Now it’s my turn to pleasure you.”

  “I’m good,” I smile, throwing my sweater on. “Kind of lost my mojo thinking of you fucking Satan. But let me pour us a drink.”

  “Well, that doesn’t seem fair, at least let me try to get you hot and bothered again.”

  “It’s fine. Really, I’m not in the mood right now, but maybe later,” I lie, taking in his unhappy expression.

  “Right, okay. I’ll have a scotch if you’ve got any then.”

  I pour us both a glass over ice and take a seat at the table watching as he eyeballs an abstract that hangs above the loveseat. He’s got a nice physique, he’s in shape, but not nearly as toned as Pax; nothing about him is anything like Pax. A sudden flush of guilt runs through me as Gabe takes a seat, sipping his drink.

  “So, you really aren’t going to tell your mother about this are you?”

  His eyes scan my face, likely searching for honesty.

  “Of course not. I don’t think another martini glass to the head sounds particularly inviting. Besides, she would tell Pax just to get me back since he’s always refused her advances.”

  “I thought he was your roommate. Is he your boyfriend?”

  “No, but he’s a tad protective of me and he hates lawyers, and when I say hate, I mean he won’t hesitate to tear you apart limb from limb and dump your body in a hole somewhere.”

  “Jesus! I could tell he didn’t like me, but I figured it was because I’m seeing your mom. Now I have to worry about that fucking animal finding out I let you blow me. Thanks for the warning,” he gripes.

  “Oh, stop overreacting. Whiskey isn’t going to find out. He’s not even here; he’s been gone since Saturday on one of his Lone Ranger missions. Now drink up and go crawl back to the Devil.”

  “Wow, you really are something sweet, aren’t you?” he asks rhetorically. “What is the deal with you and Helen anyway?”

  “I already told you… she’s a twisted cunt. My father’s downfall in life, an infection. She’s like a poison that taints you over time, slowly doing enough damage to hurt you but never enough to kill you. I’m sure you’ll find that out all on your own though.”

  I slam my
drink and pour another, wondering why he wants to discuss my stained existence.

  “Has she always been an alcoholic? I can’t believe the way she can drink.”

  “Yep,” I say, pouring him another, “she’s also always had an addiction to throwing tantrums and breaking shit. My head didn’t become a target until I found out she was fucking one of my boyfriends… walked in on them actually.”

  He cringes, looking shocked.

  “Shit! I’m sorry… and Pax?” he asks, raising a brow.

  “What about him?”

  “Is he your one? The one that your mother can’t take from you.”

  I half-nod and half-shrug.

  “I guess.”

  “You guess?” he repeats. “I’ve seen the way you two are together, you guys move like water; you’re in sync. And the way he looks at you, I mean that has to be worth something, right?”

  “What are you? A fucking shrink?”

  “No,” he laughs, “just a guy who cares. I want to help your mother, and I also want to help you.”

  “Who says I need help? And why the fuck would you entertain the idea of burdening yourself with Lucifer’s sins?”

  He must be absolutely insane.

  I pour myself another drink as he covers his glass.

  “None for me, thanks, and you should slow down a bit.”

  “Answer my questions please,” I prompt, ignoring his attempt to father me.

  He smiles genuinely. He’s got a gorgeous smile to match his emerald eyes and for an instant, I’m attracted to him again, but I shut it off.

  “It’s not that I think you need help up here,” he says, pointing to his head, “I just think you need someone to intervene so that you aren’t in harm’s way whenever you enter the main house.”

  “You mean hell’s kitchen.”

  “Exactly,” he laughs. “I think I can get your mother into a program eventually. It might take some time, but I think it would give you some space to heal, and her some well-needed addiction control.”

  “You’re playing with fire,” I warn, “you do realize that monster has money, correct? Not to mention claws, sharp teeth, and a tail she could probably strangle you with.”