Chapter Seven
Julien
The rest of our lunch was quiet. She’d rattled me. I didn’t even know why though, because she hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know. I waited for her to climb into the passenger seat and re-cuffed her. I then slammed the door shut and walked around the back of the vehicle.
The last of the sun disappeared and the streetlights farther down began to turn on. The one over our car flickered twice, but remained dark.
Good.
Dark fit my mood.
She’d used my own words against me, and for some reason, I didn’t like her saying my name. Why I’d told it to her in the first place baffled me. I’d been taken by surprise when she’d asked. I guess I never thought anyone would give enough of a fuck to ask.
She doesn’t give a fuck, asshole.
Standing at the back of the car, I took a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it, all while watching the back of her head. She was pretty. Not really my type, but pretty. I liked them a little dirtier, like the waitress. Taking a long drag on the cigarette, I turned to lean against the trunk. I was on edge. It was the killing. I needed to blow off steam, that was all.
As if on cue, the waitress who’d served us walked out of the back of the restaurant. She glanced toward me, maybe surprised to see another car on this side of the building. Customers usually parked out front. I smiled and tossed my cigarette to the ground before walking over to her. She glanced at Mia who sat watching us from inside the car, then leaned her hip against the hood of her car and waited. I didn’t look back at Mia when I went to the woman, and she seemed to know exactly why I was coming. But when I got close enough for her to see my face, my eyes, her smile disappeared, a momentary panic replacing the flirtation that had brightened her face a minute ago.
Well, that was what I did to women. I scared them.
But I also fucked them and made them come. Being scared only made them wetter for it.
Taking her by the arms, I kissed her roughly, mashing my lips against hers. She tasted bitter, used, but I didn’t care. I only needed one thing. Turning her around, I bent her over the hood and reached into my pocket for a condom, glancing toward my vehicle as I pushed the girl’s jeans and panties down over her hips and to her knees. I saw Mia’s face, her eyes wide as she watched. I turned back to the girl, rubbing her back, pushing her shirt up as I did, looking at her full, round ass. I didn’t waste words, but remained silent while unzipping my jeans and rolling the condom over my cock. I then gripped her hips and pulled her ass cheeks apart with my thumbs, finding her little cunt shaved bare and already glistening.
But it wasn’t her I looked at when I shoved my cock inside her pussy. It was Mia. I watched her just like I had those other times. I saw her face, saw her expression change as I thrust into the whore’s cunt, and waited for Mia to meet my gaze. When she did, I smiled, narrowing my eyes, pressing my fingers into the girl’s flesh as I fucked her, again thinking of Mia, seeing her pretty eyes on me, imagining her on her knees before me, taking my cock into her mouth, imagining her on her back, her legs wide, her pussy open for me to fuck. I groaned, pressing against the girl’s fleshy bottom as I came, barely hearing the sounds she made, and when I was done, I slid out of her, pulling the condom off and tossing it into the bushes. Turning the girl around, I pushed her to her knees.
“Clean it,” I said.
She looked surprised for a moment, but then opened her greedy little mouth and licked my cock clean. If I’d allowed myself to, I’d have gotten hard again, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to see Mia’s face. I wanted to get back to my car and get to a hotel and have a good look at her, at all of her. Hell, she’d watched me fuck. It was my turn to watch.
Buttoning my jeans, I went back to my car and got in. Mia turned her still shocked face away from me and cleared her throat. I didn’t smile, didn’t feel like I’d won anything. I had expected to though. I knew she’d be shocked and that was what I wanted. I was a man who took, that was all. I never gave, and when the time came, I’d take from her too.
Driving out of the parking lot, I switched on the radio. I needed the noise. It masked the tension in the car.
So, her stepbrother was looking for her because she’d put him in jail. I wanted to know more. I’d call Ryan for more specifics but I’d hear her story tonight. I’d make her tell it to me naked while I looked over every inch of her. My cock stirred at the thought and I glanced at my captive who remained looking out the window, her eyes still wide, and turned my own gaze to the road, trying to ignore this strange feeling of guilt.
Guilt? No, it couldn’t be that. To feel guilt, one had to feel something else. Regret for one. But worse than that, I didn’t care what Mia St. Rose thought of me. I didn’t care if I offended or shocked her.
Why the hell are you even entertaining those thoughts?
I turned up the volume on the radio and we drove without speaking for another hour until finally, Mia broke the silence.
“Why did you do that?”
I looked at her, met her defiant gaze, the green like a blazing emerald. There was fire within those eyes, the fire of a survivor, of strength.
“Why did I fuck her?”
I saw it took some doing for her to keep her eyes on me. I liked it, liked seeing her struggle. She nodded once, her forehead creased, the expression on her face almost one of anger.
“Blow off steam,” I said, looking at the road again. It seemed I could only take her direct gaze in small increments and that bothered me. It was weak.
“So, you fuck strangers to blow off steam?”
I smiled. “So, you watch strangers fuck to blow off steam?”
She glared.
“What? Would you rather I fuck you?”
“Screw you, asshole.”
I veered so fast to the side of the road that she let out a small scream and grabbed hold of the dashboard with her free hand. Hitting the brakes hard, I grabbed a handful of her thick, dark hair and tugged her head backwards. She gasped, her frightened eyes wide.
“Listen to me, girl. I hold your life in my hands. You live at my pleasure, understand?”
“Let me go, you prick!”
I tugged harder until tears filled her eyes and she gripped my arm with her free hand. “I may be a prick, but at least I don’t hide from what I am. You? You hide behind a curtain and watch. And I bet if I were to slide a hand inside those tight jeans of yours, I’d find your cunt wet from what I just allowed you to witness.”
She yelped, trying to push back against the seat as far as possible as I ran my hand down over her belly and toward her crotch. Keeping my eyes on hers, I undid the button and took the zipper down.
“Please don’t.”
“Please don’t, what?” I asked, fingers brushing over the white lace of her panties. I’d have to get a better look at those later.
She mewled when I pushed two fingers down until I felt the little patch of hair.
“I’m sorry, Julien. I’m sorry.”
She said it again. She said my fucking name and it made me stop. I looked at her, at the terror in her reddened eyes. I wasn’t a fucking rapist and she was looking at me like I was.
I released her, more bothered by that look than I cared to consider.
“Just be quiet.”
She sniffled, looking at her lap, trembling fingers of one hand trying to work her jeans closed. I pulled back onto the road, my mind back on what I was supposed to be doing, on where I was going.
“I’m half Italian, half American. I was born in Italy to an Italian mother and an American father,” I said, surprising myself, surprising her. From the corner of my eye I watched her turn toward me, but I kept my gaze on the road. “I spent the first six years of my life here. After that, we moved to the US and spent summers back here. Then they died and I was handed over to the American foster care system.”
Until my grandmother was sober enough to take custody of us, anyway. That had been the plan. The hope. But hope made you a beggar. It was a waste of fucking time.
I accelerated, feeling her eyes bore into me, burning into the side of my head. I didn’t need her pity. That wasn’t why I was telling her the story. Actually, I hadn’t a fucking clue why I was telling her.
The foster care system sucked. Our family home here in Italy, which had been in my mother’s family for generations, had been passed down to my brother and myself. But since it was just me now, it belonged wholly to me.
I didn’t come back here often. Too many memories, and memories were time’s way of fucking with you. At least fucking with me.
I’d paid to keep up the house for years, even though it sat empty most of the time. Now, it looked like I’d have need for the place for the first time in, well, a long time.
I’d never brought anyone here before and didn’t want to think about why I was bringing her now, but that was what I was doing. The village was a few hours away though, and at that moment, I was too tired to think about the whys any further.
I drove for another hour before pulling into the parking lot of a roadside hotel. I killed the ignition and turned to Mia who looked at me with a little more caution since our previous little roadside chat.
Good. She needs to be afraid.
“We’re walking inside and getting a room for the night. Are you going to be good?” I touched my hand to the pocket that held my pistol.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
I studied her, wondering if she realized the depth of her question. At least its depth to me. “Probably.”
Her face began to crumple, the stress of the past twenty-four hours finally catching up with her. I enjoyed tears, just not this kind.
Sighing, I took her face in my hand and made her look at me. “I’m not going to rape you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I wasn’t. She just didn’t know yet how easily she’d give it up to me when it came time for me to take it. “Okay?”
“Not okay,” she said, sniffling and wiping away the last of her tears as she jerked her face out of my grasp. “But I don’t have much choice right now, do I?”
The girl intrigued me. She was afraid of me, knew what I was capable of, yet she confronted me. She didn’t tuck her tail between her legs and bow her head, as I expected her to.
“No, you don’t, Mia. Be good.”