Dirty Ugly Toy (24 page)

“God, you’re so beautiful.” His mouth is all over mine, worshipping me. Hungry and eager. Curious about my promise to him. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t kill him because I wanted to make him fucking pay. It was too easy. He hurt you and that was too simple for him.”

His confession and apology warm me. Soon, I’m fumbling with his buttons, needing him to take me right here in the wine closet.

“And,” he breathes heavily as he tears away from my kiss, “no matter what you wear, no matter how little or a lot of makeup you’re wearing, you’re so goddamn beautiful it makes me crazy.”

I melt with his words. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Not one single thing.”

He groans and I palm his cheek. Our eyes search the other’s for answers that neither of us have.

“Bunny, I’m not right in the head. I want to hurt women. Sometimes I want to hurt you. I’m evil.” The shame in his words guts me.

Slipping my hands down to his slacks, I begin undoing them with quick fingers. “You think you’re evil, but you’re not. I’ve seen evil and I wouldn’t continue to stay here if I thought you were. In the past, when I danced with the devil, I found a way to escape. If I thought you were even half as horrible as that time in my life, I’d have already gone.”

A fierce roar grumbles in his throat and I drop to my knees. I take his throbbing length into my mouth and he hisses with pleasure when my tongue tastes his salty tip. I want him to feel with every lick, suck, and nibble that we have an undeniable explosive connection. As I take him deep, reveling in his satisfied grunts, I hope his mind is on the fact that he’ll never have someone suck his dick with such an eagerness to please as I do. This man thrives on control and I crave making him release the reigns only to have them drop to the floor beside me. Even if only while sucking his cock, I want him to lose his mind under my authority.

“Jesus, woman,” he hisses. “You’re killing me.”

His words fuel me to perform the final act. My teeth scrape his shaft and I squeeze his full balls in an effort to drive him to maddening bliss. A string of curse words belt from him as I eventually bring him to an orgasm that has him yanking at my perfectly styled hair.

After I swallow my appetizer, I stand and tuck him back into his pants, flashing him a pleased grin. “Best blow-jobs you’ll ever have, handsome.”

He grips onto my hair, and smashes his mouth to mine in an appreciative kiss. Once again, I’m banged against the shelves as he ravishes me with his expert tongue and perfect lips. When he finally tears away from me, his gaze is almost angry. But good angry. Brax sexy angry.

“I’ll never let you leave me. You’re mine, Jessica.”

My name on his lips is sweeter than any hit of heroin I used to crave. “You’re mine too, Braxton.”

The flight to Vegas a few weeks later isn’t long and I mostly daydream. It’ll be the first time I’ll visit his “legal” sex hotel and I’m anxious. I hope that dumb Evette chick won’t be there. At first, when I met her, I’d been threatened. But, once he and I cleared the air about our feelings, things got better. That night, Evette had pushed around the food on her plate while Brax and I inhaled ours. There was such a look of disappointment on his face when I asked her if she was on a diet because the lasagna was the best I’d ever eaten. Thankfully, his disappointment was pointed toward her and she knew it. Of course she blamed me for his sudden adoration of me over her. She’d tried multiple times to sneakily throw in my face that she was like him and I was merely a toy. But each time, I’d nudge his foot under the table and grin wickedly at him. To my delight, he’d smile back and wink. It was our own little secret.

“We’re almost there. It’s the biggest hotel on the strip. Half of it holds a casino and several five star restaurants. There are even a few select levels of rooms on the north side we rent out to keep the façade up. On the south side, the bulk of the rooms remain as well as some private dining establishments that are only available to our Black members. And we have some meeting rooms for when group events are held. I’ve gone to a couple of them but I prefer to play with my toy by myself.”

I take his hand as Dubois pulls the rental into a covered valet parking spot behind the building. Since Brax is the owner, I guess we get special privileges like back access. I’m eager, being that I’ve never been to Vegas, to try my hand at a few slot machines.

“What are we going to do? I’m excited to be here with you. It’ll be so romantic,” I gush as we climb out of the car. For the trip here, I’d settled on a white sweater dress with black leggings and black heeled boots. Cartier curled my hair into loose waves and had done my eyes up in smoky shades. Brax nearly devoured me when I exited the salon this morning but Dubois—the spoilsport—reminded him of our itinerary.

Brax stops and I turn to see why. His frown is immediate and I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Remember, Bunny, I’m here on business. I need to have a little chat with Trevor, meet with Jamal and Glenna, and I even have a game of golf scheduled with a client.”

My heart sinks but I nod. “Okay, well, I suppose I could venture out on my own. See what Vegas has to offer.”

He’s already shaking his head before I can finish. “Don’t leave the hotel. And when we get inside, one of the staff will give you a gold lanyard. You’re to wear it at all times. It’s what lets the other Luxers know you’re my toy. Nobody will touch you as long as you have it on. Other Black member’s toys will have black lanyards and the rest of the toys have white lanyards. If you come across someone without one, it means the Luxer wants to share his toy.”

I force a smile. “Lovely.”

“I don’t share, Bunny. You’re mine. I’d rather you stay in the penthouse suite until I get back but I know you and you’re a curious one. So promise me you’ll stay on this side of the casino and keep that lanyard on.”

Nodding, I start to walk inside. The door opens to a dark hallway where a nice-looking young man hands me the much coveted gold lanyard and a room key. I glance down the hallway to see that it leads to a set of elevators. When I turn around, Brax is leaned up against the counter with a frown marring his perfect features.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to meet my client now. You go on up and get comfortable. We’ll have dinner together later. Dubois will deposit the luggage and see to it if you need anything else.”

“Oh.”My disappointment is evident and he strides over to me.

“Jess, please don’t do this. Smile. This weekend can still be fun. Just let me get this shit over with and then I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

His lips drop to mine and he kisses me sweetly. I want him to take me up to the suite and make love to me. I’m becoming addicted to his touch and seeing him all day every day. Losing him for a few hours sort of guts me.

When he breaks away and flashes me a grin, I sigh and smile back. He’s hot but he’s beautiful too. An innocence always radiates from him, just below the surface, and I latch myself onto it. There’s something about Brax that I want to protect and nurture. But then there’s his devious side that I adore too. The side that sometimes hurts me in a way I like—a way that makes me want to beg for more. Because then, when it’s all over, sweet boyfriend material, Braxton shows up and fixes it all with his worshipping kisses and caresses. He’s confusing and multi-faceted but I want all of his layers all mixed up into the man who stands before me.

If he decides at the end of our contract he doesn’t want me, this could get complicated.

“Bye,” I wave and blow him a kiss. “I’ll try not to get into too much trouble.”

His eyes darken but he doesn’t follow me onto the elevator. I can see how much he’d rather be with me but duty calls. The elevator closes and my smile falls. With the close of the doors, I feel as though I’m severed from him. I don’t like that feeling.

I’m addicted to him.

I crave him.

I need him more than I ever needed the heroin.

Brax is my drug.

There are worse addictions, I suppose.

A smile plays on my lips as the elevator rises to the top. When it reaches the floor just below the penthouse, marked with a B instead of a number, the elevator dings. The doors slide open and I flick my gaze up.

The scent chokes me. The world spins on its axis. A hell I tried so hard to escape from consumes me in one shocked yet satisfied glare.

No! No! No!

“J-J-Jimmy, what are you doing here?” I stammer. My skin grows cold and my knees weaken upon seeing him. It’s been so long but he hasn’t changed much. There’s a little grey at his temples but aside from that, he’s the same.

Same evil man.

Same twisted-ass motherfucker.

“So you’re British now, Peach?” he scoffs. “You always were a good actress.” He steps into the elevator but leaves his foot blocking the door from closing. “I’ve missed you, Jessica. Six years is a long time to wonder where your wife has been. I’d located you in London where you were whoring yourself out but then you disappeared again. Now I get it. You’re Braxton Kennedy’s spoiled whore.” His eyes flicker knowingly to the gold lanyard in my grip.

Terror washes over me and I try to bolt past him. He snatches my bicep, his brutal fingers bruising me with his strength, and he forces me back inside. I yelp when he shoves me against the wall beside the panel of buttons. Reaching for the G, I mash at it. The doors start to close but his foot stops it.

His hand releases my arm and it’s on my throat, squeezing. Tears gush out over my cheeks and I swat at him to let me go.

“Did you think I wouldn’t ever find you again? You have no idea how much money I’ve spent trying to keep tabs on you. London was tricky because you fell off the grid for a while. But it wasn’t long before my sources led me to your little boyfriend.”

Does Brax know who this cruel bastard is?

He can’t know. I refuse to believe that. Braxton eats assholes like Jimmy for lunch.

“Let me go!” I hiss.

His grip tightens and he slams my head a couple of times into the wall behind me. Stars glitter in my vision and my knees wobble wildly. When I start to collapse, he grips me upright against the wall.

“I’ll tell him,” I choke out. “What you did to me.”

He laughs and it’s wicked. It chills me to my bones. Memories of a life with him assault me and I want to vomit. I hate him. I hate this man I was married to.

“I could ruin a motherfucker like Braxton Kennedy, Peach. You and I both know I have the connections to do so. We both know he dances on a fine line of what’s legal and what’s not. And my power is growing. I’m running for president in a few years. That’s right, bitch. He’s nothing and you’re nothing. You belong to me and I know exactly where to find you now.”

I squirm but he strikes me with the back of his hand, his knuckles cracking against my cheekbone. As I howl in pain, he sets to dragging me out of the elevator and into the hallway. The moment we’re out, he shoves me to the carpet and I feel the immediate burn in my elbows. I’m trying to recover when he kicks me in the ribs.

Just like old times.

I attempt to crawl away but he kicks me again, hard enough for me to puke on the carpet.

He’s going to kill me.

He has tried before and failed though.

“I-I-I will tell him. He cares about me.” My words are nothing more than a ragged rush of whispers.

“You’re delusional, Jessica. If you tell him, I’ll drag your ass all the way back to Georgia. He’ll go down for kidnapping my wife. Can you imagine the headlines? Illegal Sex Hotel Owner Kidnaps Presidential Hopeful’s Wife. The press will eat that shit up. Your precious
master
will spend the rest of his years getting ass-raped in prison. And you,” he spits out as he grabs me by my hair and drags me to my feet, “will come home and spend your years getting ass-raped or worse in your own personal prison.”

The sobs wracking through me are unrecognizable. I’m not this woman anymore. I’m not the woman who lets Jimmy break me.

He broke me over and over again. And that last time, he crushed the only beating part of my heart. He didn’t just break me, he obliterated me.

“I’m not coming with you.”

He laughs and it’s a bitter, harsh sound. “Not yet. I have appointments and shit, being a politician and all. I don’t have time to explain the sudden appearance of my wife. But I
will
come for you. You’ll be there for at least another couple months or so where he’ll be playing with you according to my research on him. That’s his thing—six months and then done. It makes me livid knowing he has you but I will bide my time. When your time is up, I will come for you. If you come willingly, my FTL relationship with Brax remains and I’ll extend leniency on you. He won’t go to prison. You’ll be a hero, Mrs. Dixon. Your missing whereabouts will be blamed on some other asshole and you will be a queen in the media’s eye.”

“And if I don’t agree?” The old me would have never challenged him. But the new me is slightly stronger.

“I’ll make your life a living hell.”

His face is red and furious, his hair messy. I watch him, with perfected practice, as he smooths his hair into place. As he tucks his Polo shirt back into his slacks. With the back of his hand, he wipes a bead of sweat off his brow. To any onlooker, he’s a handsome, successful, wealthy man.