Chapter 12 - Thrown for Loop
I collapsed next to her, completely winded from an orgasm to end all fucking orgasms. Izzy Gallo was a beast in the sack. She fucked like a porn star and took everything I had to give. Every moment I spent with her and her family, I fell a little bit farther into the rabbit hole, and I knew I’d never be the same after this fucking weekend.
“Jesus,” I murmured through labored breaths.
“I don’t know if I can even walk,” she whispered, rolling over and resting on her back.
“I can’t remember a better weekend in forever, Izzy.” My words were true. It had been the most relaxing forty-eight hours I’d had in years.
It wasn’t just that it had been relaxing—that I could do with a cold beer and a weekend of football. This was different. She made every minute enjoyable. Just watching her squirm at her parents’ had been enjoyment enough.
“I don’t think we should see each other again,” she said, putting her back to me.
What the fuck? “Excuse me?” I asked, turning toward her. “You can’t be fucking serious.”
“Dead fuckin’ serious, James.”
“Izzy,” I whispered, grabbing at her shoulder as I tried to roll her back toward me. “Look at me.”
“No,” she barked, pulling her body from my grip. “I don’t want to see you again.”
“Not this shit again,” I muttered as I ran my hands through my hair. “Can’t even let me enjoy the goddamn afterglow before you start spouting your bullshit. I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Believe what you want, James. This isn’t working out for me.”
“Seemed to be working out just fine when you were grinding your pussy on my face and chanting my name.” I stared at the ceiling, thinking about what my next play should be to stop the train of destruction that was heading straight toward me.
“That was fucking, nothing more.”
“It was more than that and you know it.” I curled toward her, trying to hold her body against me.
She went rigid in my arms. “You should go before it gets dark,” she whispered.
“That’s it, huh? Fuck my brains out and toss me out like a piece of trash?” I asked, mystified at her thought process.
“Yeah,” she replied, her body flattening against the mattress.
I knew she was scared, but I was too pissed off to try and calm her fears. I bit back like a wounded animal.
I climbed off the bed, grabbing my jeans off the floor and sliding them on. “We’re not done, Izzy. I won’t stick around for us to say things we’ll regret. Shit we can’t take back.”
“The only thing I regret is spending the weekend with you.”
“You’re a fucking liar!” I roared, so pissed off I could barely see straight.
“Think what you want, but you’re not my type.”
“You just want a pussy you can boss around. I have a dick, babe. One you seemed to love this weekend. You get your head on fucking straight and give me a call when you’re ready.”
“Not happening, James,” she replied as she turned to face me.
I’d already raised my voice, but I couldn’t fucking help it. The woman was maddening. “I’m exactly what you need and want. You’re too fucking scared to admit it.”
She shook her head as she crawled out of bed and started to dress. “You’re not all that.”
“When you grow the fuck up, call me,” I said as I stalked toward her.
“You’re a total dick,” she hissed, moving to slap me.
I grabbed her wrist, pulling her to my body. Gripping her hair in my fist, I gave it a slight tug as I hovered over her lips. She gasped, holding my shoulders.
“You know you want me,” I growled, my lips a breath away from hers. “I wrecked you for any other man. I own your ass, Izzy. I’ll let you run, but you can’t resist me forever.”
I crushed my lips against her, holding her by the hair. She moaned into my mouth as her body betrayed her every word. Backing away, I released her and left her standing in her room half naked and speechless.
The ride back to Leesburg gave me plenty of time to think of my next move. I’d give her space—for a little while—before I came crashing back into her life. We had that spark, that something special that couldn’t be denied. Come hell or high water, Izzy Gallo would admit that she wanted to be with me.
“Who pissed in your damn Cheerios?” Bobby teased as I walked in the office on Wednesday morning.
Bobby was my regional supervisor, but I often told him to go fuck himself. We had one of those relationships. He didn’t hold back when pointing out the obvious.
“No one. Just a shitty-ass week,” I snapped, throwing my bag on the floor and collapsing in my chair.
“Ah. Pussy problems.” He laughed, kicking his feet up on the desk.
“Shut the fuck up,” I snarled through gritted teeth.
“You better sort that shit out and get your head in the game,” he said, riffling through a file. “There’s movement on the coast within a rival MC. We need to keep an eye on Thomas and make sure he’s safe.”
“I got his back,” I grunted, pulling myself toward the desk.
“Not when you have pussy on your mind.”
“I got this shit, Bobby.”
He stood and walked toward my desk. Leaning over, he placed his fists against the surface. “Sort your shit out. Got me?”
“Yes, sir.” I knew he was fucking right.
One thing I’d gathered about Izzy through conversations with Thomas was that she was the most stubborn person he’d ever known. Izzy wouldn’t be the one to make the first step or reach out to me. I knew I had to be the bigger person in this nonexistent relationship.
I needed to at least contact her and hope she had changed her mind. If she hadn’t, I needed to find a way to help her do that. I needed to break down her walls. Finding the crack was the problem. Once I did, victory would be mine.
Me: Thinking of me?
Hopefully she hadn’t blocked my number. The girl was feisty enough that she’d do something like that. Try and remove all temptation from her life. I knew that if she responded, I had her.
I threw the phone down on my desk, grabbing a cup of coffee before going through some surveillance footage that had been gathered the night before. When I returned to my desk, I had a message waiting. I smiled to myself as I read her words, feeling victorious.
Sexy Fugitive: Hey.
It wasn’t much, but it was a reply. The name I’d put in my phone when saving her number fit our situation perfectly. I tapped my pencil against the desk, debating on how to respond.
Sexy Fugitive: I’m sorry.
I almost fell off my chair as I read her message. Izzy didn’t seem like the type of girl who used those words often. Her stubbornness did not allow her to admit when she was wrong or regretted something. My heart started to pound as I saw a glimmer of hope for us.
Rubbing my chin, I wondered if I should ask about which part. It could be about a myriad of things, including fucking me or kicking me out of bed afterward.
Me: For?
I’d let her be the one to explain her need to apologize. No way was I going to fuck up the one inroad I had. No fucking way in hell. Once that shit vanished, it would be gone for good.
I set my phone down, starting the video on my laptop of the MC in action last night. We had surveillance cameras everywhere outside their compound, and in areas Thomas had told us were usual spots where club business took place. When we were finally able to bring them down, we’d have video proof to back up the allegations.
Letting it continue to play, I picked up my phone to read her reply.
Sexy Fugitive: For being a bitch.
Her message was still vague and cagey, but perfectly Izzy. She wasn’t a fucking fool. No one likes to admit they were wrong, especially not someone as stubborn as she is.
Me: I wouldn’t use that term.
Sexy Fugitive: I didn’t mean to be a cunt.
I cringed at her colorful wording. Cunt wasn’t a word I threw around when describing a woman. That shit would be immediately met with a punch to the face or a kick to the balls.
Me: I hate that word, especially when thinking about you, unless…
Sexy Fugitive: Unless what?
Me: Unless we’re talking about your beautiful, selfish pussy and how it milks my cock.
I waited a moment, but there was no quick response. I turned my attention back toward the screen, watching as the prospects, including Flash, exchanged a duffel bag with an unknown man for a package. I didn’t know what was inside, but the group was heavy in the drug trade in the central Florida region. Most likely it was heroin or meth.
Sexy Fugitive: You scare me, James.
I knew I’d come on strong, but fuck. I didn’t want to waste time playing a bullshit game. I’d laid my feelings out for her, made my intentions known. Izzy wasn’t just another easy fuck to me.
Me: Nothing to be scared of, doll. I’m not the boogeyman.
Sexy Fugitive: You’re scarier.
I paused the video, Izzy taking precedence over the grainy images on my laptop.
Me: Why?
Sexy Fugitive: I don’t want to like you.
I deconstructed her words. She didn’t want to, but she did. I smiled, rubbing my lips as I chose my next words carefully.
Me: What scares you most?
I needed to cut off the head of the beast. Face her fear head on and alter her perception. The last thing in the world I wanted was a scared Izzy Gallo. She needed to know that I wasn’t the enemy.
Sexy Fugitive: I swore off men like you.
Men like me? What the fuck did that mean? I knew I could be demanding in the bedroom, but besides that, I was like every other red-blooded American man. She wanted easy, someone she could control. That shit I was not down for. Just like her, no one told me what to do.
Me: Men like me?
I wanted her thoughts. She needed to voice her fears to me. Maybe it wasn’t my demanding ways in the bedroom. I didn’t want to expand until I knew her reasoning. I always believed in not giving too much information without knowing the enemy you faced. My enemy in this battle was Izzy’s fear.
Sexy Fugitive: You’re demanding and bossy.
I laughed when I read her message. Izzy wasn’t a fucking cream puff. Those exact words could be used to describe her.
Me: The only time I’m bossy and demanding is when we’re fucking, doll. I like things done my way in the bedroom.
I had particular tastes. Most people do. I didn’t do missionary style with rose petals spread across the bed. I liked shit raw and rough, and I wanted to be in total control. That’s not to say I wouldn’t hand over the reins from time to time, but I was a man, after all, and the bedroom was my domain.
Sexy Fugitive: You want shit done your way all the time.
Me: That’s bullshit. I like you because you’re the most aggressive and strongest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want a pushover who’s going to do everything I ask.
Sexy Fugitive: You want me to fight back?
Me: Outside of the bedroom, yes. I love that fucking smartass mouth of yours. When you get mouthy, it makes me rock fucking hard.
Sexy Fugitive: And inside the bedroom?
Would Izzy understand the difference? Would she be able to give herself willingly during sex? She’d seemed to enjoy herself this weekend when I’d told her to strip. She’d had me by the balls during her striptease.
Me: I’m the boss in the bedroom.
Sexy Fugitive: I don’t know if I can deal with that.
Me: Did you like when I told you to strip?
Sexy Fugitive: Not at first.
Me: And then?
Sexy Fugitive: I liked teasing you as I danced.
Sitting there, I thought of her naked, shaking her ass and hips as she took off her clothes. Her dark olive skin and brown hair had made me hard in the dim lighting of the room. It had taken everything in me not to throw her to the ground immediately and fuck her brains out.
Me: Did you like when I fucked you?
Sexy Fugitive: Yes…
The dot dot dot told me that she wasn’t happy with admitting it, but she had nonetheless.
Me: Was there anything I did that you didn’t like?
I wanted to know where her head was with what I did to her. Maybe I moved too fast, but I wouldn’t apologize for who or what I was.
I started the video again, needing to get my head in the game. I wanted to nail these motherfuckers as soon as possible so I could get the fuck out of this town. Five minutes later, there still wasn’t a reply from Izzy, but I knew we weren’t over.