Dirty Ugly Toy (12 page)

“Here we go,” Bunny’s sweet voice cuts through my haze.

I blink away some of the blinding wrath and stare at her. She wears a sweet, poised smile. With ease, she skirts around the table removing the champagne flutes which certainly don’t belong on our table and replaces them with wine glasses. Then, I watch her as she sets to flawlessly opening a bottle of 2006 Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley wine.

My eyebrows fly to my hair line as she pours a little into each glass. When she reaches Glenna, she drops the cork in her hand and disappears for a moment to fetch it. Dubois’ eyes are on mine, calculating my next move. I shake my head, letting him know I’m okay.

Bunny returns to her feet and flashes me a triumphant smile. Her pert tits are no longer the perfect shape from before and I’m curious as to what she’s stuffed into her dress. She makes her way to me and pours some wine into my glass.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” I demand, hoping to scare the shit out of her.

She nods and shrugs her shoulders, not at all concerned with my tone. “I thought tonight was a special occasion that called for a special wine.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that wine is that you’re wasting?”

She throws me a complacent smile. “You didn’t tell me any of the wine was off limits. I paired the best wine with our dinner. Surely a man of your financial status can afford to indulge in a twenty-eight hundred dollar bottle of wine.” The smugness in her voice irritates me but I’m honestly shocked at her knowledge.

The rest of dinner, I watch with a skeptical gaze as Bunny participates in business talk with ease, laughs when Trevor tells a joke about the president, chooses the correct utensil for each course of the meal without even paying attention, and slowly but surely loses her British accent.

Is it a fluke?

Or is my little toy hiding more than whatever it is she shoved into her dress from Glenna’s purse?

M
y favorite thing about Braxton is the vein that pulsates on his forehead near his temple when he’s pissed. I didn’t mean to dazzle him with my southern charm but when he was about to go ape shit on Stephanie, I knew I had to step in. His eyes were daggers and it was only a matter of a few moments before he did something evil to the poor, innocent girl.

The pill bottle smashed in my cleavage is uncomfortable but I bide my time. When they all launch into more business talk after dessert, I excuse myself to use the ladies room. With a pep in my step, I eagerly rush to the hallway bathroom. I’m already pulling the bottle from my breast before I even get the door closed.

Hydrocodone.

Fucking score!

The moment that woman mentioned her recent surgery, I knew she’d have pain pills on her. Now, I eagerly pour three into my palm and toss them in my mouth. I drink from the sink to swallow them down and hide the bottle in a cabinet between two folded hand towels. I’ll come back for these later.

I’ve barely made it back out of the bathroom when I bump into Trevor. The man is handsome enough but he’s nowhere near as sexy as his boss. Earlier, when I sucked Brax’s cock, I actually wanted things to escalate with him despite his being a prick. The thought was abhorrent. I wanted to humiliate him the way he
tried
to humiliate me. I wanted to rub his face in
his
shame.

But now that my anger has simmered, I’m back to just wanting him to fuck the hell out of me.

The thought upsets me but as the pills enter my bloodstream mixed with the wine, I decide I don’t care. I want his thick cock inside of me.

My thoughts are interrupted by Trevor’s husky voice. “I must say, you’re the prettiest little toy I’ve ever seen,” Trevor murmurs, his hands finding my hips. “Want me to show you what it feels like to be with a normal man?”

I haven’t been with a normal man in a long time. At least not since my first boyfriend, Seth from high school. Before I met
him
—the one I do the drugs not to think about.

Seth was a nice normal guy with his normal penis and his normal Toyota Camry and his normal life. I’d considered a future with him until I realized I’d be fucking bored out of my abnormal mind. Sometimes I wonder if he ever found a normal girl.

“Did you space out there, beautiful?” Trevor says with a chuckle. “Come here.”

He drags me back into the bathroom and locks the door behind us. His mouth finds my neck and he drops kisses down my throat. The room spins and I wonder if maybe I took too many pills considering it’s been awhile since I’ve used and I’ve had wine. My knees buckle and he catches me before I fall.

“Looks like someone’s had too much wine,” he says soothingly. “Let me take care of you, Bunny.”

I cringe at the name. Coming from Braxton, it isn’t so bad. But from Trevor, it grosses me out. “J-J-Jessica,” I slur out, my tongue seeming thick in my mouth.

“Shhh,” he whispers.

I gasp when he bends me over the counter and the cool marble shocks my hot skin. I’m vaguely aware of my dress being pushed up my hips and my panties being tugged down. His touch is soft and quick.

The room spins again and I grip the countertop to hold on. Trevor’s belt jingles as he sets to undoing his pants.

What’s happening?

Brax.

Braxton will fix this.

This is wrong, that much I know despite my haze.

“Braxton,” I croak out.

“Shush,” Trevor hisses behind me. “I’ll be quick, whore.”

I find my voice and shout. “Braxton!”

His warm hand covers my mouth and he fingers my opening. “You’re not even wet. This is going to hurt, Bunny.”

My eyes slam shut as I wait for the inevitable. It’s not like this is the first time drugs have gotten me into a situation like this. But the inevitable doesn’t come. Instead, a crack of the doorframe makes me open my eyes. Brax’s psychotic glare meets mine in the mirror. I notice that my eye makeup is streaked from the tears—I didn’t even realize I was crying.

“You stupid motherfucker!”

I slide to the floor as Brax drags Trevor out of the bathroom. My head whacks the toilet on the way down and the room spins.

“Miss, are you okay?”

Dubois.

His strong arms are lifting me. I’m flying. He carries me away and away. I don’t feel modest knowing my ass hangs out. Instead, I feel safe.

I must doze off for a bit because when I wake, he’s walking me into the horror room.

“I’m going to be sick.”

He rushes me to the toilet and holds my hair back just as I puke up the pills, the delicious dinner, and the twenty-eight hundred dollar wine.

Clarity begins to clear the fog in my head and I groan. Back to reality. Back to the God-awful fucking purple Princess Room. Back to the evil sonofabitch who tricked me into signing some stupid-ass agreement.

I stand on shaky feet and wonder why Brax hasn’t come to check on me or why Dubois is no longer here. Once I’m sure I won’t be sick again, I brush my teeth with the toothbrush that was provided to me. When I finish, I stare at the woman in the mirror.

What happens after six months?

For a long time, I haven’t focused any farther than my next fix of heroin. But now? Now, I’m concerned that I’m not cut out for this life. If drugs are all that I live for, why am I even still around living?

I sigh and find some face wash from a cabinet. It doesn’t take long, but soon I’ve scrubbed away all of Cartier’s hard work. My dark hair still looks pretty in long waves in front of my shoulders but my eyes seem innocent now that they’re free of the dark makeup.

The dress doesn’t feel right on me anymore. I crave to wear something comfortable and warm. As soon as the dress hits the floor, I scan my appearance in the mirror. The black lacey ensemble underneath was a waste.

“What now?” I ask myself.

Braxton’s stormy figure appears behind me. My eyes widen, drinking him in. He’s no longer wearing his suit jacket or tie. His white dress shirt is splattered with blood and his hair is a wild mess. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. Or so ruggedly masculine.

“Did he fuck what’s mine?” he snarls.

I shiver, not because I’m afraid, but his possessive tone turns me on. “You broke down the door before he had a chance.”

My thoughts flit back to earlier—how I was so eager to take the pills and let the numbness take over that I didn’t even have any concern for my safety. A man nearly raped me and I let it happen. Tears well in my eyes with anger at myself. My bottom lip trembles and I turn to face the man that’s been playing games with me since I met him a little over a week ago.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him with a quiver of my chin.

His brows furrow together as he studies me silently. After a moment, he nods. “You’re
my
toy. All mine.”

I allow myself to be gathered in his warm embrace and I snuggle against his chest. “What did you do to him?”

He sighs and strokes my hair. “I killed him.”

The thought should alarm me but in some small way, it doesn’t. And
that
thought alarms me. That I’ve become so jaded and battered that I am indifferent to the loss of a life. But when you get pushed, and pushed, and pushed . . . well, yeah. I’m there. That bastard, like every other ass in my life, tried to take advantage of me. And even though Brax is a cruel, psychotic prick, he cares for me more than any other man I’ve encountered in the last decade. “Thank you.”

His body stiffens. “That doesn’t . . . upset you?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I laugh but it’s humorless. “I’ve had a lifetime of being upset. Now I’m just numb.”

He’s quiet and doesn’t respond to my words.

“I’ve been hiding for so long. I just want to feel something again.” My words are whispered but he seems to hear them. “Even if it only means for six months.”

His hands travel over my shoulders and they gently wrap around my throat. The blue in his eyes is gone and the stormy grey replaces it. “I want to make you feel, Bunny,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over mine. He squeezes slightly. “I want to hurt you.”

My hands cover his and I nod. “I want you to hurt me,” I say, and then I try the unfamiliar word out on my tongue, “
master
.”

His eyes slam closed and when he reopens them, they’re wild. I don’t know the man staring back at me. He’s not the smug jerk who conned me into signing a stupid agreement. He isn’t the suave businessman who intimidates people with one of his signature scowls.

No, the man staring at me isn’t a man at all.

He’s evil.

Dark and sinister.

A demon.

And I want him.

“Please,” I beg, “show me what you like. I need to connect with you. I’ll show you I can be what you want. I crave for you to cut through my numbness and draw the feeling out of me. The pain. The pleasure. I want it all.”

His mouth seizes mine and despite the uncontained desire to do something twisted to me, I sense that he’s proud of my submission to him.

“This won’t be sweet,” he warns, his lips hovering over mine.

A whimper remains lodged in my throat. “I know. I’m ready.”

He tears away from my mouth and devours me with his stare. “It won’t be sweet and it’ll hurt.
A lot.
But you’ll also feel things you’ve never felt before with a man. I’ll own every part of you, inside and out.”