I hope this bitch chokes on a piece of lettuce. It’d be doing the world a service.
“If there is nothing else, I’ll leave you all to enjoy your meals and will check back in with you to see if you need anything,” I say, with a level of graciousness I didn’t even know I had.
As I turn to walk away, a hand reaches out and grabs my wrist to stop my forward progress.
“Why are you in such a hurry to leave, Angel?” says a voice that can only be described as what it feels like to sit in front of a fireplace wrapped in a warm blanket reading your favorite book. It’s so rich and deep that goosebumps rise along my arms up to my neck, dancing at the inflection of his tone.
I look into his haunted cognac eyes as his tongue plays with the metal of his lip ring.Sweet lord!I thought he was a sight to behold when he was seated. I can see ink peeking out from under his collar.Pierced and inked…yummy.
Setting my shoulders back, I lift my gaze from the now smirking ass and state, “I need to finish my side work, so I can head home.”
I'm proud of how firm my voice sounds. It certainly doesn’t match the shocks to my system from where his calloused thumb rubs circles in my flushed skin.Oh no, there will be no swoon in this bitch.I look to where his hand is still touching my wrist. Noticing the tautness of my gaze, he drops his hand, but not before trailing the tip of his finger up my arm, causing a twitch in my jaw as I try to mask his effect on me.
I start to move again and notice he is still walking with me.
“Is there—”
“Listen—”
We both begin to speak simultaneously, leading him to laugh.
“You first,” I say with a small smile, knowing I’m beginning to blush pink.
“I was just going to say don’t let Samantha or her friends get to you. They’re bitches on a good day,” he says, and I nearly full belly laugh.
“Oh, that is the understatement of the year. I think you’re being far too kind with that assessment. She’s a step away from being called a cunt and I don’t like calling any woman a cunt. Woman solidarity and all that jazz. You know pussy power.” I know I am rambling at this point, but I keep going, “Her and her boyfriend, aka your boy Wes, are King and Queen of the pompous douche club and can eat a bag of diseased dicks.”
With that, he fully belly laughs, mirth filling his eyes, but there’s something else there. I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like his eyes are hiding the true nature of his soul.
I shake my head clear. Even if there’s more, it’s not my job to figure it out.
“Wes is a good guy, I think you both just got off on the wrong foot. Just give him a chance.”
Now, I’m the one amused. Chuckling, I retort, “Yeah, Wes calling me trash totally signals that he’s a ‘good guy’ and that I should give the asshole another chance.”
His eyes shadow, and this time I catch a glimpse of the darkness before it vanishes. Knowing I need to end this, I steel my spine and explain, “Look, I don’t have time for any more drama. So, I’ll stay in my lane, and your merry band of shitheads can live happily ever after.”
His lips part to speak when one of Sam’s clones, Brittany I believe, comes over and drapes herself on his arm.
“Owen baby, what are you doing over here with the help? Your food is getting cold.”
Yup, time to go.I’m not interested in watching any more of this bullshit play out. My patience can only be asked to do so much before it runs out, and I need this job. I swear if my siblings weren’t already falling in love with this town, I would convince Mom we should leave. These people are far too much. But I’d do anything for them, including putting up with petty barbs about being the help.
Sighing, I sidestep Owen’s hand and start on my side work, hoping these assholes don’t take all night.
10
OWEN
The sharp tang of blood fills my nostrils as the whirring of the whip flies through the air. Garbled moans sing across the black walls lined with metal Victorian-aged sconces, finished in Corsican gold, bringing warm glowing light into the room.
The man reversely strapped, his back exposed, to the cherry wood St. Andrews cross, wrists bound by barbed wire, is not here for pleasure. His fate is far worse.
“What did you think would happen to you Glen? Did you think there would be a reprieve for you because your uncle is a member of the council?” Wyatt asks, cracking the glass and razor-lined whip against his ass this time. Glen’s back is riddled with shards of glass embedded in his flesh.
Wyatt’s playing with his food again. Glen can’t answer. He’s been gagged with a nine-inch cock, modeled after yours truly. I grin at the thought that he’s choking on my dick.
“Stop toying with him, Wy, and remember not to kill him. We need answers and his uncle wants him to be taught a lesson, not murdered,” Lev reminds him from the other side of the room, taking a moment to look away from his computer screen before bringing a chilled glass of amber liquid to his lips.
