Tainted Black - Williams Shanora - Страница 46
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I splurged into her mouth, shooting down her throat, and she swallowed every last drop, eyes on me, not daring to pull those hazel irises away. I jolted even more, pressing my palm to the back of her head and making the moist walls of her mouth mold around my length. “Fuck.”
She moaned around my cock, bringing her mouth up, swirling her tongue swiftly around my tip and across the slit between and then pulling away, causing my hips to buckle. Pulling up, she grinned and then rested her head on my chest. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” she confessed.
“Shit, thanks for giving me the first shot at it,” I laughed, planting a kiss on her forehead. Leaning on my elbow, I turned to face her, admiring her physique. She looked good in my T-shirt, her slender legs toned in all the right places, skin smooth. Her nipples were what I expected, erect, prodding through the white cotton.
I ran the back of my hand across her cheek, and she caught it, holding on. “I’ve always wanted to ask…” She paused for a moment, lips twisted. “How often do you think of Mrs. Black?”
Her question caught me off guard. I felt my heart come to a slight skid. It wasn’t as intense as it used to be. Before, my heart would slam to a standstill from the mere thought of Janet. The wound was deep, but with time, it became easier to accept—easier to control the emotion that used to wreak havoc. “Every day,” I responded.
“You miss her a lot, don’t you?”
I huffed. “Severely.”
Chloe’s brows creased for a single moment, then her face softened. “We… never would have happened if she was still here, huh?”
I blinked. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that question. Yeah, if Janet were still around, I would have kept my boundaries, maintained distance, and considered Chloe one of Izzy’s hottest friends. I wouldn’t have touched her—hell, I never would have gotten so fucking crazy if it weren’t for the murder of my wife.
Instead of giving a direct answer, I said, “Wanna know how fucked up my life was before? Why I sometimes think I’m the one that should have died that day?” Her eyelashes batted at me, and she adjusted herself, pulling her hand away. Her eyes were full of questions. I answered them.
“When I was eleven, I lost my dad. Seems like a corny job, but he was a firefighter, and I always admired him for it. Saving lives. Working day and night to provide for us. Risking his life on a day to day basis. I always wondered ‘Why him?’ when he passed, and I guess since I never came to terms with him dying, it was even harder dealing with Janet’s death. My therapist says it was because I wasn’t expecting to lose anyone else. I had finally found safety with her—security—but lost it within the blink of an eye. When I lost my dad, I became rebellious. My mom couldn’t control me for the life of her.” I laughed. “I regret putting her through so much hell—with being suspended from school for picking fights and even setting off firecrackers in the boys’ bathroom just for the hell of it.” My head shook. “Shit, for a while I thought I wouldn’t live to see this age. I didn’t want to live, and for some reason, when he died… nothing changed. Nothing got better. Everything became worse.” Chloe’s face was serious as I stopped talking for a brief moment.
“Life got so much harder for me and my mom. My mom worked way too much in order to support me, which left me at home alone. So… one day I met this guy named Horris at a bike convention, and he introduced me to this gang of bad-asses. All we did was cause trouble and fuck shit up for no reason. Some of them killed for fun. Tormented members of other gangs and robbed from innocent civilians.” I swallowed thickly. “I hate that I’m even telling you, but… I almost killed someone.”
She gasped. “Who?”
I focused on the silver sheets. “Janet’s dad.”
As if that were a twist, she gasped even louder. “What!? How?”
“Her dad is an uptight asshole. You probably saw him at her funeral, how he didn’t say a single fucking word to me. Well, before I ever met Janet, I used to hang out at this bar in L.A. They played poker there every fucking night. Her dad happened to be there one night, knowing damn well he wasn’t supposed to be gambling. At a young age, I’d learned how to play poker and was pretty damn good at it. Let’s just say her dad tried to cheat and that left me with no choice but to beat his ass.”
“You had a choice—what do you mean you had no choice?”
“My gang was there, demanding me to do something about it. And I’m no pussy. I wanted to show them that I could hold my own—that they didn’t need to worry about me. Shit, the whole gang thought I was a pushover for a while, but that was only because I was quiet and new. But when they saw me beat her dad until he was black and blue… well, let’s just say I was highly respected. Maybe not by her dad, but by the gang. The Union. That’s what they called themselves.” I laughed, remembering those dark and somewhat exciting days.
“Wow,” Chloe whispered. Her eyes moved down to the jagged “U” on my shoulder.
“I got it as soon as the gang let me in,” I said in reference to the tattoo. “I wanted to prove my loyalty to them. But that’s not even the best part. Janet worked at the bar, doing dishes in the back, and when she saw her dad getting pummeled, she jumped right in, breaking it up and then cursing me the fuck out, threatening me with the nearest object. That object happened to be a broken glass bottle.” I chuckled.
“No way! Damn, Mrs. Black was badass.”
“She really was. That was how I fell for her. Unlike the other girls, she wasn’t afraid of me. She wasn’t afraid to destroy or kill me and something about that zinged me. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I knew I had to make it up to her.”
“And what did you do to make it up to her?”
I fought a smile. “I found out where she lived and showed up at her doorstep. Her dad answered and tried to slam the door in my face, but I caught it in time, and Janet appeared. She was upset of course, but I told her straight to her face that I was sorry, and that I’d gotten carried away because of one too many drinks and too much testosterone around me. I apologized to her father with sincerity, and then I apologized to her for ruining her night. Then, I offered to help her dad out until he healed. Turned out, I broke his arm… and his nose.” I winced. She laughed.
“You are so bad!”
“Hey,”—I shrugged—“back then, I had no guidance and after a while, Janet understood my struggle. Trust me, it was hard winning her over. Took me three months before she finally eased up. I don’t regret that part of my life, though. I could but… I don’t. It happened for a reason. I was lost, and she found me.” My lips pushed together. “One year later, she ended up pregnant. We were twenty when she had Izzy. So young and dumb and lost. But… somehow, we made our way through all of it, despite the struggles and tears. I wanted to do better, not only for her, but for our daughter.
“I dropped out of that gang and focused on making my life better. For some reason, seeing Isabelle for the first time caused me to come to the conclusion that being a part of that so-called ‘family’ wasn’t the life for me. I realized, then, that I didn’t want to spend my days beating older men over a game of poker and ten measly dollars. I wanted to spend it treating someone kindly, showing them how good I could be and that I wasn’t some dumb streetwalker. I’d always been good at cars, so I got into it and worked my ass off night and day to provide for them. Crazy, though. Her dad thinks I’m apart of her death. He thinks I was involved in something gang related and they came for her. Fucking jackass.”
Chloe’s eyes were sympathetic. Understanding.
“Know something?”
“What?” she asked.
“I think I was given a daughter for a reason—as somewhat of a punishment for hurting Janet and her family. Also to make me a little softer around the edges. I used to be a huge prick. Nothing seemed to please me. I cared for no one’s feelings but my own… until I met Janet of course, but even with her I was still kind of a dick for a while.”
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