Brutally Beautiful

Chapter 4

It was getting closer to Dylan’s 30^th birthday.

I sent him an eCard. What? That’s good enough.

He called and screamed at me.

He’s having a party. Of course. A small dinner party and he asked me to come. And, to come with a date. A date? Grand. Now the woman I have casual sex with will think we could date now.

Best part: Dylan’s girlfriend is hosting it for him, along with her roommate. In her trailer. Trailer. Trail...Errrr. Great, tonight’s dining experience: Ramen fucking noodles. I called Morgan, my casual friend, and she agreed; her husband won’t be in town, so she can make it.

Clutching a bottle of $500 wine, I climbed out of my Land Rover Range Rover and walked through the yard crunching over the cold hard dirt and gravel that led to the doublewide, cringing with every step. I took inventory of the small wooden steps that led up to the front screened door to the dilapidated mess my brother’s girlfriend calls a home and find a few muddied pair of converse sneakers, an industrial size gallon of bleach, and a box of generic latex medical gloves. A half burned out car from the 1950s was in the yard and a white picket fence that surrounded a dead tree. A small wooden crucifix was staked in the ground around its roots. White-fucking-trash. It was like a scene from one of my books. My skin crawled thinking about stepping a foot inside the trailer. I strategized on focusing solely on Morgan and the suction of her mouth on my cock after this dinner debacle. I really didn’t understand how I was going to make it through the night.

I knocked on the screen door, which was ripped to fucking shreds, like an animal had tried to claw its way inside, or out, and the images of the massacre in my head left me a bit breathless. It very well could be the beginning of a new book…the opening scene already writing itself in my subconscious.

Behind the screen, the scratched-to-shit wooden door opened before I could compose my thoughts back to reality. Lainey was standing in the doorway, framed from the light within the tin trashcan impersonating a house. I hadn’t seen her since I chased her out of the bar two weeks ago, when Dylan asked me to give her a ride home. She looked out of place. She looked awkward and suspicious. Stunning me with her raw beauty, she looked like a fucking dark angel. And sexy as fucking sin. Shit.

I had no clue she was going to be here.

She tucked a wavy lock of hair behind her ear and offered me a tight smile. “Mr. Grayson.” Her greeting was curt and short. I hated it. I loved it. I’m fucking insane.

She stepped to the side to allow me to walk in. The smell of her soap or shampoo or whatever the hell it was that filled my nose left me hungry. No, not hungry. Fucking hell, ravenous. I blinked my eyes rapidly, focused on the inside of the tin box, and swallowed a small gasp. I had never seen the inside of a trailer before, other than the idiotic movies I watched, but I would have never assumed one could look so…homey. The walls were a warm chocolate color and everything from the clean comfortable looking couches to the small yet elegantly decorated table and chairs were in earth tones and warm soft colors. It made me want to lay down and surround myself with its calmness, take some away with me. Steal it for myself. Morgan was already there, sitting at a small counter that separated the kitchen area with the living room area, a blood-red goblet of wine held tightly in her hand and she smiled at me like I was the second coming of Christ on a platter, just for her. She was dressed up like it was her fucking high school prom, make-up caked on her face and dark brown eyes weighed down heavily with mascara. Flecks of red dotted the whites of her eyes, as if her capillaries were bursting from strangulation, making me think of someone wrapping their hands tightly around her neck and squeezing tight.

Then my eyes locked on Lainey as she stepped in front of me to the counter, and a tall lanky man moved up behind her, hesitantly placing a hand on her ass to ask her if she needed any help. If I hadn’t been staring at her form, the curve of her hips and flatness of her belly, I would have missed the minute flinch that happened just as his hand made contact with her body. She was uncomfortable under his fingers, and for some ungodly reason that made me feel ecstatic. I scanned up the slope of her body to the swell of her chest, the smooth ivory of her neck and then to the wide smile she offered him with her lips. I wanted to fucking crush his heart. A strange stab of jealousy coursed through me, and I could distinctly visualize in my head the blood splatters and the trajectory of the spray of brain matter after I slammed him with my $500 bottle of wine on the side of his head. I placed the stupid pathetic bottle down on the counter in front of them a little too hard, just really itching for the chance to swing it at him.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked me softly, tossing her hair over her shoulder, slicing the bloodstained scenes from my mind with the smell of motherfucking cinnamon apples.

“Yes. Thank you,” I found myself saying. Her eyes found mine. Her lashes looked incredibly long against her ivory cheeks, and a small darkening of shadows graced her skin, as if she’d been having trouble sleeping. Those green irises were like gentle pools of brilliant meadows of sage and green-envy coneflowers swaying in a warm breeze.

HOLY fuck. What the hell sort of poetry was that dribbling out of my twisted brain?

Her brows knitted together as she stood in front of me, handing me a full glass of the blood-red wine. I tried to imagine it splattering across her face, trying to think of the words that I could twist onto a clean crisp white paper, words that would slice the life from those eyes, but I could think of none. None.

This bitch was giving me writer’s block.

The man who pawed her ass held out his hand to me and smiled. “So, you’re Dylan’s infamous brother? Glad to finally meet you, I’m Fran,” he said, shaking my hand weakly.

The only thoughts in my mind were at that very moment were first, that hand was just touching Lainey’s ass, second, what the fuck kind of name was Fran? And third, his fucking hand was just touching Lainey’s ass. I squeezed his hand more than I should have. He grimaced.

“Fran?” I asked, curious to the femininity of the name and why a parent would hate their child so heinously that they would name him that.

“Short for Francis,” Lainey uttered, a little above a whisper.

“Ah,” I chuckled darkly, “that makes it so much better.”

She rolled her eyes at me. Fuck, it was as if I was in high school again. No, high school was bloodier. Francis smiled then, a full mouth of white shiny teeth and I wanted to knock each and every last bright ivory enamel-coated structure out, maybe the whole damn jaw too. That would be a great scene; my fingers began curling into tight hard fists.

My brother strutted in then. Man of the hour. Wearing thirty like it was some sort of trophy he competed for and won. His eyebrows shot straight up, as if he was actually shocked to see me. I guess he might very well have been, since I had only seen him a handful of times in the last few years.

“You actually came?” he asked, stunned.

“Nope. Not here at all,” I replied, a bit too harshly. Dealing with people wasn’t my thing. “Happy birthday.”

A blonde woman, whom I recognized as the other waitress, and could only assume was my brother’s new girlfriend, Bree, bounced out from the back of the trailer and she and Lainey pushed us to sit as they placed food on the small table. Morgan didn’t help, I noticed. She sat herself down next to me, tall and regal, waiting to be served. For some reason, that messed with my head. I wanted it the other way around, with Morgan serving Lainey, and that messed with my head even more. I drank my wine in one enormous gulp, almost embarrassingly vomiting it right back up. When Morgan’s French manicured hand reached down into my lap and cupped my balls, I pushed away from the table to get the bottle of wine I had left on the counter. I was going to need a few more bottles to get through the night.

Lainey was standing next to the tiny sink holding a steaming bowl of something. My mind tried to make it a bowl of wiggling maggots, but all I saw was fluffy delicate curls of pasta. Her eyes traveled over me and landed on mine. One beautiful soft eyebrow arched up at me questioningly.

“So, Francine seems sweet,” I said. I was incapable of having a healthy normal conversation, wasn’t I? I wanted to goad her, and to bicker and fight with her. I wanted to get her angry and outraged. To offend her so harshly that her beautiful sweet features would show some sort of fucking expression other than the complete control that I lacked.

Her eyes remained soft and delicate. Fuck, was that pity? Was that fucking pity she was looking at me with? “I wouldn’t know, Mr. Grayson. I haven’t tasted him yet. However, if I do get the pleasure of that, I will let you know how sweet it is.”

I wanted her to be one of those characters I killed off in the first chapter; the stupid innocent beauty that follows the clichéd killer down his rabbit hole. I held the scene in my head for a mere second, before it blurred and changed into me bending her over my knee and spanking her bare creamy ass until she was pink and wet.

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.