Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) (17 page)

“No I’m not getting in the way, I’m stopping you from taking an innocent person's life. Come on man, let him go.” His hand clasps around my elbow, trying to pull me off of the fucking dickhead that had mouthed off a little too much.

“Get the fuck off of me Marcus. Don’t try and preach to me what’s right and wrong, you’re no better than me, you live the same fucking life I do, except, I get to fuck a sweet pussy every night and you run home and cry about your shitty life with that old prick.” Ok, so that is a little too far. The guy has been through hell, and is somehow still standing. I’d known him all twelve hours, but he knew who I was deep down, without me even mentioning it. He has seen himself in me.

“Ha, really? We’re turning this into a pissing contest are we? Okay let’s do it. Yes you get to fuck someone every night, but Leighton face it man, it’s the same boring pussy every time, you know what to expect. Me? I get to go to the club, fuck a nice OBEDIENT submissive whore, blow my load inside her or on her, then I get to fuck off and have a nice scotch without my phone repeatedly ringing to find out where the fuck I am. Want to look at who’s got the better sex life? I win hands down dude. Didn’t you say that she liked to be fucked by other men? That’s a little fucked up man, not enough for her?” I drop the cunt's body to the floor, his feet struggling to get away from me.

I look out of the corner of my eye as he sprints to the exit of the darkened alleyway. “Keep running you fucking prick. Don’t let me see you again,” I shout as I step closer to Marcus. “Now, about you. I don’t think this is going to work if you start disrespecting my wife mate. You haven’t even met her arse yet, and trust me when you do you’ll want it. Everyone wants it.” I throw a punch at his face that clips his jaw nice, making a sweet sound that thrums through my body.

“Did I not say, all of eleven hours ago, you do not get to do that again.” He rubs his chin and then brings his own fist to mine. Fucker can hit, hard.

“Good one Marcus, but your technique's getting old, that happens with age I’m afraid.” I torment him, winding him up to a point his eyes darken and fix on me.

“My technique? Really? We’re going there? Okay, you little brat, let’s show you technique.” I laugh and smile at him. There is no way anyone gets one up on me unless they are a sniper hidden in a fucking building.

My laugh is short lived as I feel my arse hit the pavement and then a pain seer through my face and ribs as he hammers at me repeatedly and violently. Mother fucking arsehole.

I fight with him, trying my hardest to push him off of me but there is no manoeuvring out of this one. I knew my arrogance would get me in trouble when the wrong person came along. Marcus isn’t big, well compared to me he isn’t. He is over six foot, and ripped to hell, but he isn’t broad like me. I have clearly underestimated his power just from his size. Bad fucking decision.

He finally gives up after ten minutes on top of me. “I think my technique is fine Leighton.” He smiles smugly and puts a hand out to help me up. I know my face is going to be sore when the whisky makes its way out of my system. I most certainly have a broken rib or two, and possibly a cracked jaw.

“Ok, so I underestimated you. But Marcus, your little distraction has done nothing to help me. I still need it, and you let my only chance of peace tonight, run way.” I punch his arm.

“No Leighton, there wasn’t a hope in hell of me letting you kill him. He was a fucking kid, he had done nothing wrong.” The man is getting old, there is no way he is the killer he has told me he is.

“Nothing wrong? You serious? The prick started the second we walked out. Thought he was a big man,” I laugh crazily. “I showed him just how much of a big man he was, the fucker pissed himself, and I was this close.” I pinch my fingers together, “To getting to smell his blood. And you, you boring arsehole stole that from me. Now it’s your job to find me someone or it’ll be you I kill. ‘Kay?” I slap his face as I barge past him.

He grabs my hand and twists it behind my back in nanoseconds, pushing me up against the wall in the alley. “Not learnt your lesson yet little boy. You don’t seem like the merciless killer you told me you were, Leighton. Not very quick on your feet. I will tell you one last time before I break every bone in your drunken arse body. DO NOT TOUCH ME. I WILL KILL YOU.” His warm breath is in my ear and it stupidly makes my cock stir in my jeans.

I moan as he pushes me harder, my cheek scraping the bricks. “Do you understand Leighton?” he asks me calmly and I moan again as I struggle to make my dick soften a little. “Leighton, you better not have a fucking hard on right now,” he bites out and his voice does nothing but heighten the unwanted erection. I ignore him, trying to put my free arm in front of me to flatten it out.

He lets go of my arm and I sigh in relief as the blood is able to flood back into it. He flips me around, his face mere millimetres from mine. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, that includes your fucked up arse, gets turned on, hard, wet or slippery, without my consent. I don’t care who you think you fucking are, you do not get hot over my control without at least acknowledging me first. Are we fucking clear?” he asks me, his eyes burrowing into mine and making my own roll back into my skull.

Holy fuck. I have never gotten hot over being dominated. Sure I have let people top me, but that is for their pleasure and a little mine, but right now I am close to coming in my boxers as his hard body presses so close to mine, the scorching heat penetrating my skin. This is not good. I am the Dom, nobody controls or dominates me.

“I said,” he places his hands on both sides of me and pushes my body to the wall, my back hitting the crinkly bricks. “ARE. WE. CLEAR. LEIGHTON?” His lips are in reaching distance, so plump and perfect. I lick my own, wetting the drying skin. I close my eyes, clenching them closed to stop myself from looking at him. He is too perfect, everything about him. His body, his personality, his passion for this lifestyle. Most of all, and I want to kick myself in the face over it, his dominance. It has my arousal surging to a new level that I haven't ever experienced, and for those few moments where he stared me out, his eyes drowning me and occasionally moving up and down my body, I thought maybe, just maybe he would appease me and kiss me. I can feel my cock pulsing as it presses firmly against his thick thigh that is placed between my legs.

I gulp as his face stays stern and blunt. “Answer, the FUCKING, question Leighton?” I’ve forgotten he’s even asked me one because his eyes hold me.

“Yes,” I hiss out, and he pushes me harder, his own erection now evident as it rubs against mine.

“Good. Now, I know you’re dying to ask me, so you may now ask me. And please, you of all people should know the respect I deserve Leighton.” There is no way on this earth I am calling him sir, no, not going to happen. I am the only sir around here. I am the fucking alpha Dom in this bloody club; I’m not bowing down to any fucker.

But it would feel so good too, I know it would.

“Kiss me,” I ask quietly.

“Sorry can’t hear you” He turns his head to the side and puts his hand to his ear.

“Kiss me. Please,” I ask again, adding the please in.

“Sorry, I still didn’t get that Leighton, I can’t quite hear you.” I refuse to say that word. It isn’t me at all. I jolt as he brings his hand down between us and clasps the girth of my iron hard dick through my jeans. “Now, please, repeat what you said so I can hear it.” I rub myself against his hand, trying to find some relief from it.

Every time he gets me close enough to coming in my pants he stops, teasing me and winding me so tight I think if I were a coil I would be nearing snapping. “Please.” I plead with him, desperate for some kind of connection. This isn’t fair on any man, my balls are becoming blue and so tight they are going to fall off or explode.

“Please what Leighton. Say the words, I know you want to. Just do it, you’re no less of a man for it mate, in fact it’s the best thing you could do for me and for yourself. Admit it to yourself, you want this, your body is beginning to crave it. I can feel it in your dick, its throbbing, it wants me Leighton. Just say those words and I’ll let you cum right here and now, if not you can fuck off home, where you’ll lay alone and wank yourself like a sad little man. So, what’ll it be?” He brings his lips to my ear, his breath causing shivers to erupt through me. “Beg me Leighton. I want to help you, but I need to hear how much you want it. Am I going to get to taste you or not?”

I submit there and then, just about ready to do ANYTHING to get his lips around my dick. “Yes, Sir, please, suck my cock. I’m begging you.” There, I’ve done it, it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but that is mainly because the guy's lips are coming at me a million miles an hour and smashing against my own.

Fuck, I am done for. This is so fucking bad, but Jesus, as his tongue plunges inside my needy mouth I can’t give a fuck about bad, just how good it is feeling and how much my dick loves it.

It has been a week since Leighton walked out on me. I haven’t heard from him, haven’t seen him and neither has any of his friends. Scott had come to see me the day after, telling me how he and Leighton had visited the club and Leighton had gone a little mad, nearly choking Scott. He was thankful for the random guy that had intervened and gotten Leighton off of him, but he is now seriously worried for his friend's welfare.

Leighton had stormed from the club and no one has seen him since. I am inclined to call the police and put out a missing persons but he is an adult, a controlled strong man who won’t be harmed in any way. I am more concerned that if I were to call the cops, what they find and where they find him won’t be pretty.

I cringe inwardly as I think about his mental state. I have wondered continuously for the last six days, if he has gone off the wagon and killed people like he has been craving for a while. His eyes had been dark and dangerous, his pulse and heart rate through the roof and his skin clammy as he looked at me and told me what he was needing and what was wrong with him. And now, I have no clue where my husband is, where my daughter's father is.

“You ready to go home Abigail?” Andrea asks me. She has been so wonderful over the past week. There is no awkwardness with her over what had happened in this very room. The memories are amazing, I will never forget them, but I don’t see her in that light anymore, she is now a friend.

“Absofuckinglutly,” I reply as I swing my legs off the bed and slip my feet into my own shoes. I can feel the cotton of my own t-shirt caressing my skin and it makes me feel a little more me. I am more than happy to get out of that horrendous hospital gown and freshen up.

“I’m so happy for you Abbi, I hope you heal up real quickly.” She helps me to stand and wraps my light jacket around me. “Your friend and sister-in-law will be here soon to collect you.” She smiles kindly and I wrap my arm around her, yes arm, single, because the other bastard one refuses to budge.

“Thanks for everything Andrea; I wouldn’t have gotten through this stay without you. Please don’t be a stranger, please come and see me at home.” She returns my smile.

“Of course sweetheart. Right I’ve got to run, but please, take it easy and don’t give up on that arm of yours, I believe it’ll work again. You just have to have faith that it will.” She strokes it, no feeling whatsoever present. I smile sadly at her back as she walks from the room.

It is like losing a friend, watching her walk away after everything she has done for me. I would have been committed again if it wasn’t for her, she kept me sane, safe and a little happy.

My eyes well up as I think of the fact that it should be Leighton here, taking me home, for the umpteenth time from this very hospital. He would have his arms wrapped around me, keeping me warm and safe like he always has done. I sigh hard, knowing he may never be there again, I may never see my husband in this lifetime.

I sit on the edge of the bed and twiddle with the bed sheets under my backside.

How much someone’s life could change in two weeks hey? I have gone from having the best day of my life, marrying the man of my dreams, to being shot and nearly killed by my father, my father kidnapping my daughter and then being caught and killed by my husband. My arm loosing movement, my husband leaving me and now I am going home alone.

I look to the floor, wiping a stray falling tear from my cheek, sniffling as my nose becomes blocked again.

“Fuck!” I say a little too loudly, almost shouting. It causes a high pitched cry to leave my daughter's throat as Ant walks her through the door to my room. My head shoots up at her sound and I push myself up from the bed to get to her side. I push my arm under her armpit and around her back, lifting her from her uncle. She wraps her arms around me and immediately stops crying. “Hey baby girl.” I kiss her hair and look to Antonio, who stands, looking at me sympathetically.

“It’s gonna be okay, Ab,” he tells me as he comes to my side and cuddles me into him. I begin to cry properly this time, my head turning into his shoulder to shield my tears from my daughter. She always catches on to my despair and she doesn’t need to see me like this. “Oh princess. Please stop crying.” He soothes me, his voice comforting me and wrapping me in a thick layer of wool. It is protecting and smothering. His height is enormous and he keeps me tucked into him.