twelve
(belle)
*NOW*
I gripped the side of the bed with my left hand. My back slightly arched off the bed. I let out a small but controlled whimper. My hips bucked a little as my middle finger slid over my clit and curled. In my mind I was right back at that scene. On the side of the road. Being put on the hood of the car. My panties ripped off my body. Being fucked right there on the hood of the car.
Who was the guy fucking me?
That didn’t matter.
It was just a guy. Just someone who could do it.
I forced myself to chase away any idea that it could be Slam.
That was insane.
I would never offer myself to a guy like that. Especially my first time.
I added a second finger to my clit and started to make circles. The pleasure quickly mounted and I dug my heels into the bed.
Don’t think of Slam… don’t think of Slam…
I pleaded with my mind.
In my fantasy, the guy was thrusting hard and fast at me. My bare ass slid against the hood of the car. It felt so good. So fucking good.
As I started to come, I held my fingers in place and rocked against my own touch. I groaned and bit my lip to keep from screaming.
One thing came to mind.
Slam.
I quickly took my hand from between my legs. I gripped the sheets then with both hands. Between my legs, I was… okay. I could make myself orgasm, which was good. It was much needed in life. I could get wet. I could come. Go me. But I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to have someone inside me as I came.
A few minutes of heavy breathing gave way to complete frustration.
I was alone in my bed, alone in my apartment.
I wanted to fall asleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Slam had done. And said to me. Because someone touched my ass, he beat them up?
It was scary… but kind of sexy.
I thought about Kyle. He had called me three times since that party at Ashley’s. He was a total computer dork and, of course, because of that, my father loved him. Hell, my father probably was the one who had Kyle at that party.
Part of me wondered what Slam would do to Kyle if he knew what Kyle did to me the other night.
“No,” I whispered.
These weren’t Slam’s battles. I didn’t even know the guy.
Yet, on my nightstand, there was the book of matches he tossed to the table. I had taken them home with me.
The night had completely gotten away from me. So I was going to settle it all with Slam. I’d go to the garage and thank him for what he did. But then I was going to tell him to stay away. I was the daughter of a cop. Not just a cop, but Chief Richards. I didn’t want anyone to get into trouble, including me.
Belle, you took the matchbook home… you just touched yourself thinking about him…
I rolled to the other side of the big, empty bed. I put a pillow over my head.
I told myself two things.
First, I wasn’t going to get into trouble with Slam.
Two, the next time I was out, I was going to just go for it. Get rid of the virgin thing dangling over me.
It was that simple.
I fell asleep, smiling, thinking I had won the battle against Slam.
I was wrong though.
He was going to drag me into a war.
I couldn’t believe myself. I wiped the mirror as it fogged up for the tenth time. I caught myself standing there with mascara, wondering just what in the hell I was trying to do. I finished and threw on the first thing I could find. This wasn’t about impressing Slam. This was about making sure he stayed away from me.
End of discussion.
My keys and cell were on the table.
I had two missed calls from Kyle and a text.
Morning, sweet thing. I need to see you today. If you don’t tell me where you are, I’m going to come find out. I have no choice.
I swallowed hard.
Those were Kyle’s romantic texts.
I slowly looked around the apartment, suddenly feeling like I was in some thriller movie.
My phone then beeped and rang. I screamed and dropped it to the floor.
It was my father calling me.
If I didn’t answer, he’d keep calling. And then send people to find me.
“Good morning,” I said, trying to be upbeat and cheery, hoping it would rub off on him.
“Hardly,” he said. “You can’t imagine the shit on my desk. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Had a DUI thing just outside your apartment last night around two. Some guy ran into a stop sign and fell asleep. My guys stopped him and he went nuts. Thought he was home, sleeping.”
“I didn’t hear a thing. I got home from work around one. I crashed hard.”
“Speaking of that. What about the guy that got jumped.”
I felt my heart sink. If I had been face to face with my father I would have given myself away.
“Uh…”
“In the alley,” my father said. “Someone got jumped. Got all their stuff stolen. He was roughed up bad. I saw pictures.”
“Yeah. I heard about that.”
“What did you see?”
“I was in the restaurant.”
My father growled. “I don’t like that shit. It doesn’t match up.”
“Why?”
“Someone was staking out that alley? For that one guy?”
“Maybe. Wrong time, wrong place.”
“Bullshit,” my father said. “I heard reports of the Reap near the scene.”
I swallowed hard. My brain scrambled. “There were two of them in the restaurant. They were eating.”
“Who? Which ones?”
“I don’t know, Dad,” I lied. “Okay? It was a long night. They were there. They ordered burgers. One guy got something to go for his wife, maybe. Then they left.”
“Before or after this attack?”
“After,” I said. “They were in the restaurant. They didn’t…”
I hated lying. I’d done it my whole life and each time I did it, it was like I was hurting myself more and more.
“I still don’t buy it,” he said. “When you get to work again, I want you to dig around. Ask questions. See if Marco has tapes from the alley. I’m running my own investigation.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m off today.”
“What are your plans?”
In that exact moment it was hard to describe how I felt. It was like something twisted so tight inside me, it broke. This was my life. My entire life. From the second I found out my mother had been murdered. In the beginning I thought it was just my father being a good father. But it went beyond that. It was darker. It was like he wanted me to die next. And when he wasn’t acting that way, he was pushing me to find things out about his cases.
“Belle? You there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I said.
“I asked you a question. What are your plans?”
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m getting an oil change in my car.”
“Oh. Good. Good for you. Take care of your car.”
My face was red.
It had nothing to do with an oil change.
I was going to see Slam.