CHERISH (36 page)
Cameron used the four seconds to roll on his Trojan. He sunk his fingers into her hips, getting her into fuck position and then, without a word he brought one hand down hard—smacking her ass as he slammed his dick home from bow to stern.
Yep, she screamed. They always screamed.
Cameron kept his eyes on her ass, the only part of her that he could look at and not need to fight off the sick. He churned his hips, barely feeling the pleasure of her being a woman; she was just another ring-sting-fuck-hole that didn’t give a shit if he used her and threw her away like his dirty rubber.
He would become just another notch on her belt. A story to tell the others of her skanky clown tribe.
The harder he slammed into her, the louder she got. Making crazy fake moans and yelling like a wet cat.
Damn, she’s fucking loud. That shit’s distracting as hell. Shut her up or we’re never going to get this done.
His hand left her hip, reaching around to cover her mouth without missing a thrust. The only sound in the room was their flesh slapping together like a freight train racing down the tracks to nowhere.
As soon as he got her mouth under control, his mind imagined the blow up doll below him was actually
her.
The object of his every wet dream, of every sense of purpose and worth in his fucked up life.
In his mind’s eye, he imaged
her
curves, soft and warm, her doe eyes fluttering as she looked up. The waves of her chestnut hair falling over her face as her mouth opened, and a soft, sweet moan came from her lips.
He let go of the blonde’s hip with his other hand, bringing it down in a loud
‘SMACK’
and filling the room with muffled screams. Her skinny ass turned bright pink morphing into stop sign red with the delivery of a series of harsh ‘smacks’.
Did she deserve it? Did she deserve for him to treat her like a useless piece of garbage? Did she deserve his hand on her ass until it welted and he knew full well sitting down wasn’t going to be an option for a day or so?
No. But what she deserved wasn’t his concern. He smacked Trixie because she wasn’t
her.
He punished her ass because she was the one here and because he hated himself for being right here with her.
He held onto the picture of the face that haunted him day and fucking night as his cock hammered in and out. Finally, he felt the tension rise and like a rubber band pulled too far; he snapped. His cock released a load into the tip of the condom, and he let out a long exhale.
Cameron felt his muscles relax, feeling relief for at least a moment. The flesh that surrounded him meant nothing. Now, he just needed her to leave.
Which, she did. Mewing and protesting, but she left.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You have no idea.” Cameron held her purse outside the front door.
“Do you even know my name—” Trixie’s last words as he cut her off.
“Nope.”
He gave her a soft shove out into the parking lot.
Her heels clacked as she tripped over the curb—hair looking like she’d been on a ride with her head hanging out the car window going 90. Add that to the crazy red lipstick smeared across her face and Cameron couldn’t keep from shaking his head at the cartoon caricature he’d just fucked.
He called her a cab, threw fifty bucks after her and closed the door.
“Thanks! Maybe we can—” Her voice was mercifully cut off by the click of the lock.
That there is a goddamn nightmare. Get in the fucking shower man. Sheets off the bed, empty the trash can where you tossed that cum sac. Where’s the damn bleach?
After his shower, he felt the darkness descend. The steam cleared, and he could see the man in the mirror staring back with dead ice blue eyes. A sinking indifference welled up that left him feeling like he was falling into a soul sucking black hole.
The muscles in his shoulders flexed and rippled the primal black ink designs embedded in his skin. He rocked slowly back and forth, naked, still dripping from the scalding shower, hands gripping the cool porcelain edge of the sink trying to keep his dinner from reappearing.
It happened every time he fucked one of the many that threw themselves in his path. He imagined
her
face, how she would feel, how it might mean something with her. Only, this time, it was different. He felt her slipping away, her image fading with each passing day and each nameless Trixie he fucked.
Never again. NEVER AGAIN. NEVER AGAIN. NEVER AGAIN,NEVER AGAIN, NEVERAGAIN
The words pounded inside his head until he felt like he could tear the fucking place down.
Who are you? Is this who you want to be for the rest of your fucking life? Why the fuck did you make her your goddamn reason for living for damn near two decades just to run away and then hate-fuck every bitch you could find? Is this the guy she would want? How far down are you going to go before you can’t find your way back?
Cameron glared at the fuck in the mirror. His lips curled back showing off his chipped front tooth and he turned on the cold water, splashing it on his face until his head screamed in pain, and his skin felt like a corpse.
Living death man. Living. Fucking. Death.
He stared back into the eyes in the steamed reflection as the freezing water dripped from his nose and chin.
He spoke to the image that returned his stare, “Never again.”
His words echoed in the small white tiled bathroom as his face splintered into a silver and black spider web.
A sharp pain shot from his knuckles to his shoulder. Cameron’s fist dripped ripe, round spots of crimson onto the stark white porcelain, and he heard the harsh, sharp noise of the mirror hitting the floor around his feet.
Never again.
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Beckett
{10 years old}
“Dad–“
My lungs feel like the flames have moved inside. I hand him my sister in her charcoal-smeared unicorn pajamas.
“
Why
?” Dad’s voice is raw, his eyes full of hate. “Why didn’t you
listen
to me?
I told you,
I
told
you—” He buries his face into my sister’s tiny body only to raise his eyes and ask me the question I don’t want to answer. “
Where is your mother
? You didn’t even try, did you?
You didn’t even try
!” He scans the crowd, desperate, screaming at the men in yellow suits. “My wife’s in there! She’s
still in there
, please,
please God
, help her . . .
someone . . . please
.”
I remember my science fair project is sitting on the kitchen table. I have to turn it in tomorrow. I need him to be proud of me.
Last year, he helped me make an electromagnet—a super, duper one—and he tried to hide the tears when I won the blue ribbon for the best project out of every fourth grader in the Upper Cleveland School District.
Two paramedics rush toward me.
“
Get him in the ambulance
.” One of them yells as they grab at me, lifting me off my feet then strapping me down. “Call ahead to Children’s Hospital burn unit.”
That was the day I realized the pain that comes from outside is nothing compared to the pain that comes from inside. That was the day my childhood ended.
Beckett
{Eight Years Later}
”Rent is due on the first. But you know there are alternative ways for you to pay.” Denise is more cougar than landlord.
I know, because I fucking hear half the other tenants giving you their ‘rent’ through the paper thin walls. I don’t have that much experience with women, but I think I know enough to know that Denise is
loud.
Her dime store, blue eyeshadow and the ever present snapping piece of Wrigley's Spearmint are signatures of my landlord who has not stopped trying to seduce me since I moved in.
She’s Mrs. Robinson with red hair and a tramp stamp.
I’m unfortunately in the room next to hers and the sound of her bed denting the plaster wall must be heard in all seven bedrooms plus the kitchen of this makeshift boarding house on the low rent end of Cleveland’s ass.
I mean,
come on.
All that noise is distracting as fuck. I have zero interest in her, but I can imagine if you were riding that ride all that fucking noise would be a boner killer.
She’s sitting on my bed thinking that come-hither look might get her what she wants this month. Sorry champ, no can do.
I can’t keep my eyes off the clock.
7:41 AM.
Wrap it up, Mrs. Robinson.
“I’ll have the rent by tomorrow.” I take a step toward the bathroom hoping she will take the hint and get herself gone. I needed my ass in the shower five minutes ago when she let herself into my room in search of her ‘rent’.
“You . . .” She points to me, making that single word sound like an accusation.
Denise is propped up on my threadbare pillows, checking her manicure and snapping on a fresh piece of Wrigley’s. Her tits are motionless, silicone coconuts standing unnaturally high on her torso and half spilling out of her halter top.
Personally, I prefer whatever size mother nature designed. I’ll take a double A true-blue over triple D fakery any day.
“You’re gonna get me in trouble, you know that? I shoulda never rented you this room.”
A touch of her Brooklyn roots comes through.
“How am I going to get you in trouble?” I put one hand on my forehead and one on my chin and jerk my head around. The twist and the
pop pop pop
as much a part of my morning routine as taking a piss.
I blow out a breath, feeling the momentary pressure-release the neck cracking gives. I’ll do that twenty times today. I have to.
“
People talk
. And, I don’t even want to know what
Leon
would do if he thought something was going on
.
If he found out, we’re
both
dead. That lady in that back bedroom looks like a bible thumper. She might stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.” Denise’s shrill voice rakes on my nerves. “Everyone sees me come in here.” Denise adjusts her tits and I do my best to not roll my eyes.
“You come in here because you let yourself in here. That doesn’t mean shit. And there’s nothing to find out.” I’m tired of this game, I have places to be but I need to not get my ass evicted either.
“Well, there’s talk. I hear them whispering. That’s just as good as it actually happening, so why don’t we just . . .” She pats a spot on my bed next to her. Now I’m going to have to change the sheets, no way I’m laying myself down where she’s been.
I want to tell her if she didn’t howl like a fucking hyena on a fresh carcass everytime someone fucked her, maybe half the neighborhood wouldn’t know she lets half the residents who rents rooms here know she’s getting boned twice a day and three times on Saturday.
Why I don’t have a better sense of self-preservation, I’m not sure. I should have been an asshole to her right from the get go. I should have seen this coming. I think the only reason she rented me the room was because she had on cock-colored glasses when she saw me.