CHAPTER THREE

AVERY

I SIT AT THE ROUND TABLE tucked back in the corner of the dark club. My right ankle is propped up on my left knee, and my arms span the back of the circular booth.

Being here reminds me why I hate these places. Music so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Neon lights so bright they’re blinding. And the drunks. I’ve never cared for them. They’re annoying, to say the least. I’m a drinker, but I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember. My father always said that alcohol would cure anything. That was why he was always shoving it down our throats. I had developed a tolerance by the time I was fourteen.

The brunette at the bar, the one who brought me to this God-forsaken place, gets my attention when she throws back the shot.

She looks so different than I remember. She used to have blond hair; she called it highlights. And she kept it short, right above her shoulders.

Now it’s a rich brown and long. She stands at the bar, her back toward me, wearing a silver glittery dress that the neon lights bounce off—making it easy for me to keep an eye on her. It’s shorter than any dress should be—attracting attention from every guy here.

Her six-inch fuck-me black heels make her look taller than I know she is. I’ve been in New York for five days, following her every move. She stays home all day, and every night, I’ve ended up at a smoky bar or a packed club. She drinks until she stumbles out of the establishment and goes home with a man. The past two nights have been the same guy. I’m not sure what relationship they have or if they’ve recently met, but he’s not here tonight. I looked. Not that I’m worried. Even if she does have a man in her life, it won’t complicate things. I’ll still get what I want.

Her!

I’ve always wanted her!

That’s my problem.

But now I have a reason. An excuse to take what I want.

She was what I once thought I wanted. Needed. But things change. She throws back another shot and spins around to face the dance floor. My eyes go to her tits. They’re on display like all the other nights. The dress has a plunging neckline, showing off what I now know were paid for.

My cock starts to harden, and I grind my teeth in annoyance. I’m not the kind of guy who thinks with his dick.

Not anymore.

I once loved her, but she cured me of that disease. Now I only fuck women until I throw them away—just as she did with me. She taught me well.

I reach forward and grab my scotch. I take a sip, sitting back in my seat, and watch as she pushes off the bar to head to the dance floor. Her brown hair flows down her back, and she spins around, placing her hands above her head while her hips sway to the music.

I adjust my slacks while she dances as if no one is watching. My eyes lower down over her ass and to her thighs, remembering what it felt like to be between them.

She may be a whore now, but I had her before anyone else did. A part of me is proud of that, and the other part is just ashamed. I worked so hard for it, and now she gives it away to anyone who throws her a smile.

She’s smaller than she used to be. She reminds me of a runway model fresh off the stage in Paris. Over the years, I’ve grown to prefer a woman with curves, but there’s something about the way she dominates a room—she demands attention, and no man can deny her that. Even the women stare at her with envy.

A man gets my attention when he sits down at the bar in the seat she just vacated. He looks around quickly before pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a couple of pictures of her on the dance floor.

My jaw tightens, knowing he will be jacking off to them later. As if he has that same thought, he places his hands between his legs and adjusts himself. His black eyes look her up and down before he bares his teeth and runs his tongue over them. He’s salivating like a bitch in heat.

I quickly look at her to see she is still dancing and then back at him. Now he’s looking down at his phone, typing away on it, and I know he just sent that picture he took of her to his boss—Damon. The same man who I’m trying to keep her from.

He gets up off the barstool and pockets his phone before throwing her one last look and then making his way through the crowd and out the front door.

Tonight is her lucky night.

Once my threat is gone, my eyes go back to her, and I watch a new man approach. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him, he thrusts his hips into hers, and my anger rises when she pulls him to her instead of pushing the stranger away.

What did I expect? This is what she does. Gets drunk and takes a random guy home to fuck. Thankfully, that other guy took his pictures and left. Otherwise, I’d have to act sooner than I had planned.

She’ll be mine soon, though.

She wraps her arms around his neck, and he lowers his lips to hers while he pulls her flush to his body. Her hips grind into his, and his hand drops to cup her ass. I take another drink of my scotch.

My hand tightens around the cool glass when her head falls back, lips parted and eyes closed. I wonder if she ever thinks of me like I do her.

 

“Avery.” She cries out while lying on her back as I hover over her. Our bodies slapping, and our breaths ragged.

Music fills my bedroom to try to drown out her voice, so my brothers don’t hear her screams of pleasure.

“I’m coming.” She pants, her nails digging into my back. “Oh, God …” I lower my lips to hers to swallow her words. The music not helping much.

 

I’ll find out soon.

The song “You Don’t Own Me” by Grace comes to an end, and she leans in, speaking into his ear before she walks off the dance floor toward the ladies’ room.

I finish my glass and set it down on the table. I get up and make my way over to him, shoving the people out of my way in the process. Grabbing the back of his shirt, I pull him over to the far corner in the darkness. He trips over his own feet but manages to stay upright.

I slam his back against the black wall and stare down at him. “Find your own whore. She’s mine. Understand?”

Brown eyes look up at me, wide with terror, and he throws his hands up and nods quickly.

I punch him in the face just because I fucking can. I yank him from the wall as blood runs from his nose and shove him forward. He takes off into the crowd while the music continues to pound the floor under my feet.

Going against my better judgment, I take off down the hallway to the women’s restroom. I walk on in and find two girls who look too young to be in this club. Their eyes widen in surprise when they notice me. When I snap my fingers and point at the door, they run out without a word. I lock it behind them, then turn around and lean against it. Placing my hands in the pockets of my slacks and crossing my ankles, I wait for her to exit the stall, trying to look unaffected even though my heart is pounding at the thought of coming face to face with her. After all this time … I swore I’d never call her. Never chase her. She made her decision, and I had to live with it.

Now she is wanted by the exact men we swore we would never become. And even though I hate her with all I have, it doesn’t mean I want her sucked into a life of slavery. A life of being raped and beaten. If anyone is going to fuck her, it should be me! If anyone is going to whip that ass, it should be me! I’ve earned it! I fucking loved her until she ruined me. And she doesn’t even care. She never looked back. But now she will. Now I get to remind her that the past always catches up with you. And she’s not going to like it.

She walks out of her stall, not even noticing me as she makes her way to the sink and washes her hands. Opening her mouth, she runs her tongue over her strawberry-painted lips, the motion reminding me just how much I used to love them on me. How they would sigh while I made love to her. How they would call out my name when she was coming. Or how they would kiss my chest softly while we lay in bed together afterward. I hate that other men get to experience that now.

After she dries off her hands, she turns to exit. Her heels clap on the floor, but she fumbles to a stop when she sees me.

And all I can think about is how much I hate her now. How much she took from me. This bitch is my heaven and my hell. My angel and my demon. And here I am, staring down the very woman I gave everything to, only for her to take it and run, never looking back.

Big blue eyes stare into mine with a look of terror. Good, she recognizes me. Even in her drunken state, and eleven years later, she still knows who I am.

Her pink lips part, inhaling sharply. Her entire body goes rigid. I take a step toward her as she pulls me in just as she always did. I never could control myself with her. But this time has to be different. I have to be in total control of myself and of her.

She doesn’t move.

She doesn’t blink.

She doesn’t breathe.

Deciding to close the gap completely, I take two more steps until my body is close enough to feel the heat radiating from hers. Her long, dark hair drapes over one shoulder, and it looks good on her. She loved when I used to run my hands through her short hair and play with it. Now I just want to wrap it around my fists and force her to her knees. We never did fuck. We made love—always soft and slow. Now when I picture us in bed together, she is bound and gagged. That way, she won’t be able to stop all the sadistic shit that comes to mind.

I’ve become one of those men I swore to never be! All because of her.

I want her to beg me.

I want her to bleed for me.

I want her to love me.

But I’m not stupid. None of those things will come willingly. I’m gonna have to take them. And I have no problem with that. She made me who I am today, after all.

She continues to stand there like a deer in headlights. I give her a threatening smile but reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear in an innocent gesture when what I really wanna do is slap that look of surprise off her face.

Her body physically shakes.

“Hello, Bunny. Miss me?”

PRESLEIGH

Blood rushes in my ears. My heart pounds in my chest, and my palms instantly start to sweat.

If the sight of him alone hasn’t knocked the wind out of me, calling me Bunny does the trick.

I haven’t seen him in eleven years, yet here he is, standing in front of me. The last time I heard his voice was on my voicemail. He was cold, and his words were sharp like a knife—cutting me from the inside out.

Now he’s standing before me, touching me like he used to.

But looking at me as though he wants to kill me.

I swallow nervously, my tongue suddenly heavy, my mouth instantly dry.

Chest tight and wide-eyed, I look up at the man I once loved. The man who was supposed to love me back.

I finally blink, thinking I’m just hallucinating. All the alcohol I’ve consumed is playing tricks on me. Or maybe someone slipped something in one of my drinks, and I’m really passed out on the floor, having a really bad dream.

My heart pounds, and I can’t breathe. I feel a panic attack coming on. I also haven’t had one of those in years.

He leans into me, his nose tracing my jaw, and my heart stops altogether. I should yell for help, but I know it wouldn’t do me any good. He inhales deeply and whispers against my neck, “You smell just as I remember.” He pulls back and looks down at me, his eyes dropping to my cleavage. They give nothing away; he remains indifferent at seeing me. They lower to my exposed thighs, and I feel heat rush to my pussy. And I hate how my body wants what my mind and heart know is a danger.

Stay away from him! You’ll end up dead!

I try to move my lips to ask him what the hell he is doing here in New York. Standing in front of me in a women’s bathroom nonetheless. But all I can manage is whispering his name. “Avery …”

His hand shoots out, wrapping around my neck, cutting off my words. He spins us around, slamming my back into the closed door.

If he wasn’t cutting off my air, I’d gasp. He never put his hands on me back when he loved me … I stop that train of thought. That was a long time ago. A lot has changed since then.

But the force and his dominance makes my pussy tighten. My legs threaten to buckle, and the room begins to spin. I stare at him unable to move. Still in shock as my eyes look over his sharp jaw and blue eyes. They’ve changed over the years and are darker now. As if he has seen too much evil. They’re still framed with long dark lashes that made me jealous and those soft lips I loved to kiss. And dark hair that I would play with when he slept with his head on my chest. It’s longer now and styled to a messy perfection. He’s what most women would call a fuck-boy. He was once my boy.

His hand loosens to allow me a breath, and his free hand goes between my thighs. Still no emotion in those smoldering blue eyes. His fingers gently crawl upward, setting my skin on fire. He does it as if he owns it. And in a way, he still does. No matter how many men have been there, he always has.

My hands are free, but I don’t push him away. I don’t fight him. I’m not sure what to do. What to say. My mind has shut down, and my body has come alive—it physically shakes with fear and with need.

“Do you still taste as good, Bunny? Like the sweetest fucking piece of candy?” He moans, closing his eyes, and I take a ragged breath. They open and drill into mine. “Goddamn, I can still taste that cunt on my tongue.”

Him saying cunt has me whimpering. He never spoke to me that way back when we were in love. Now he hates me.

I hate him just as much, if not more!

His hand tightens on my throat once again as if he’s reading my mind. My lips part, trying to suck in a breath but get nothing. His eyes trace my lips before they meet mine. I’m reminded his hand is still between my legs when his fingers reach their destination. Without permission, he pulls the black soft fabric of my thong to the side and runs a finger along my pussy. “Are you that excited to see me, Bunny?”

I’m wet.

Soaking. Fucking. Wet.

Goddamn him!

I always was for Avery. He was everything I ever wanted. Until he wasn’t.

He removes his hand from my throat along with my pussy with a look of satisfaction on his gorgeous face.

I’m able to pull myself out of the fog now that he’s no longer touching me. I take a deep breath, and my anger sets in.

I slap him across the face as hard as I can. Eleven years of pent-up aggression released in one hit. His head snaps to the right. The sound bounces off the bathroom walls over the music booming on the other side of the door.

I fist my stinging hand while he turns his gaze back down on me. His dark blue eyes narrow. “I’ll allow you that this one time.” He growls before lifting his hand as if he’s gonna strike me back.

I don’t flinch.

I’ve had worse. My mother used to tell me don’t dish out what you don’t want served back to you. Just because you have a pussy doesn’t give you a pass to put your hands on a man. He’ll retaliate, and it’ll be twice as hard.

But instead, he places it on the door by my head, caging me in, and leans toward me. His overpowering scent almost knocks me to my knees. “Not so sweet and innocent anymore, are you?” My chest tightens, and he knows those words affected me because he gives me the coldest smile I’ve ever seen, freezing me to my core.

“What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth.

He says nothing; instead, he presses his hips into mine, and my breath catches when I feel his hardness. He wants to fuck!

“No,” I say, placing my hands on his hard chest over his black button-down and pushing him back. He doesn’t budge.

Instead, he laughs as though I’m joking.

“Avery,” I growl.

“Where’s your brother?”

I didn’t expect him to ask me that. But then again, when I woke up this morning, I didn’t expect to be drunk and locked in a bathroom with my former lover. “How the hell would I know?” I snap.

He removes my hands from his chest and pins them above my head to the door. And just like before, my body betrays me as my knees threaten to buckle, and my lips part as I take in a shaky breath. “Avery …” I whisper. “Don’t …”

“Don’t what, Bunny?” he asks. As he grins down at me, that million-dollar smile looks more threatening than friendly. “Don’t make you want me?”

“I don’t want you!” My voice is breathless while my pussy reminds me just how much I’ve missed him. It’s getting harder to breathe.

His eyes drop down to my cleavage as my breasts bounce from my heavy panting. He laughs again. “You always were a terrible liar. Your pussy is wet, and your knees are shaking.” My hands fight for him to release me, but he doesn’t. His free hand comes up and wraps around my neck loose enough to still allow me to breathe. He tilts it upward, leaning his face toward mine. His eyes drop to my lips. My heart beats wildly in my chest, knowing he’s going to kiss me. Eleven years I’ve dreamed about him. Wanted him. And here he is. It’s like a nightmare come to life.

I lick my lips and push forward, but his hand pushes me back, pinning me to the door. Instead of his lips touching mine, he moves them to my ear. “Tell Preston I know what he did. And I’m looking for him.” Then he pulls away, letting go of my arms and neck.

I grind my teeth in frustration. He’s playing with my emotions.

He looks at me with indifference as if I’m some stranger he is passing on the street. Not like the girl he once planned to marry. And I hate how much that hurts. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Bunny,” he says before opening the door, shoving me forward and walking out.

I run over to the sink and almost fall into the counter. I turn on the cold water and splash my face, not caring that my makeup will run. I grab some paper towels out of the dispenser and then push my back up against the wall. I slide down to my ass and pull my knees to my chest as memories flood me like a fucking hurricane.

 

We’re lying on his bed on a rainy Sunday night. Remember the Titans plays on his TV.

I sneak a glance over at him to find he’s already staring at me. “What?” I ask.

He reaches out his right hand, pushing my blond hair behind my ear. “Just admiring how beautiful you are.”

I blush and bite my bottom lip. Every time he says that to me, it makes me nervous. His eyes stay on mine, and I look back at the movie, wanting to avoid his stare. But it shuts off, enveloping us in darkness.

“Hey,” I whine.

“You’ve seen it before.” He laughs softly, and then I hear the remote hit the floor. Shifting on the bed, he pulls me to him. His hand slides up the back of my shirt, and I hiss in a breath at his touch. Lightning strikes, lighting up the room, and gives me a glimpse of his blue eyes. They’re staring at me with a need I can’t explain. My body heat starts to rise, and my heart pounds.

“Avery,” I whisper. We haven’t had sex yet, but I want to. I want him to want me the same way I want him.

“Yes, Bunny?” His voice is rough, and I lean my head back when I feel his lips gently touch my neck. “What do you want?” he asks.

I moan. “For you to want me,” I say honestly.

“I do.” His lips trail across my skin.

“Then show me.”

“You’re not ready.” He denies me once again.

I feel a pain in my chest at his rejection. A part of me thinks he’ll never want me that way. His father teaches him and his brothers to treat women like nothing. But I want to be his everything.

“Do you love me, Bunny?”

My breath catches at his question. Of course, I do. This boy means everything to me. I’d be lost without him. But I’ve never told him that because I’m afraid he doesn’t feel the same. The dark room gives me the courage to say what I’ve wanted to say for years. “Yes,” I whisper so low that I hope he didn’t hear me.

Lightning flashes again just as he pulls away from my neck. I look up at him, and he gives me a soft smile. “That’s enough for me.” Then we’re covered in darkness once again.

 

The door to the bathroom swings open and in walks my best friend, Alex. “Girl, what the hell are you doing in here?” she demands.

“This is the women’s bathroom,” I reply, looking around aimlessly. I can still feel Avery in here. My body is covered in goose bumps. My skin burns from where his hands were on me. I can still smell him. And my pussy still begs for another touch of his fingers.

“I know, but you’ve been gone forever. I got worried.” She places her hands on her hips. “Why are you on this nasty ass floor?”

“I … uh …” I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Needed a second,” I lie lamely.

She arches a dark brow as if she knows I’m full of shit. “And what is on your face?” Her nose scrunches in confusion. “Is that sweat?” I shake my head and hold out my right hand. She grabs it in hers and helps me to stand. “What the hell have you done to yourself?” she asks, yanking the paper towel from my free hand to clean the black streaks off my cheeks. I stay frozen in place.

My legs shake, and my mind is still foggy from the man who was dead to me. But like a ghost, he has come back to haunt me. And even though I haven’t seen the man in eleven years, I know nothing good can come from his presence. “I need a drink,” I blurt out. That’s what I need. More alcohol.

“Well then, come on. They aren’t gonna serve you in the bathroom.”