Unscripted (33 page)

Pulling her in close, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. My phone began vibrating again. This time a message from Dean flashed bright across the screen: THE INFORMATION YOU WANTED EARLIER. DEREK SAUNDERS HAS ARRIVED IN NEW YORK CITY.

Good. Even though this mother fucker doesn’t know it yet, he and I have unfinished business.
When it comes to protecting Holliday Prescott there is
nothing
I won’t do. And for every permanent scar he gave to Holliday I will put ten more on him. I will destroy his empire, his shitty legacy and his worthless fucking life. Holliday is mine now, and I protect what is mine.

Sneak Peek – After the Break

by Andrea Joan

Coming Spring 2015

Prologue

Liam

Seattle: One Year Ago

Drug of choice; railing lines of coke seems to be on the menu tonight. But I’m not particular I’ll shove anything up my nose, down my throat, or into my lungs. Snort, smoke, or swallow. Doesn’t matter as long as it gets me so fucking high I can’t remember who I am.

Booze of Choice; Jameson. Every. Fucking. Night.

Girl of choice; obviously she has a name, but at the moment I can’t fucking remember. I’m sure she told me before we stumbled back to my shitty apartment. I can probably blame this memory loss on the coke, or the booze, or the fact that this chicks’ mouth is wrapped so tight around my cock that she is literally sucking the memory out of me, but the truth of it is I have barely listened to a fucking word she has said. I don’t care to remember so I can’t listen. Blondie probably told me her whole life story when I was serving her drinks tonight, right before she pulled me into the bar’s bathroom and let me snort lines off her tits while she shoved my hand up her practically non-existent skirt, but every time she spoke I shut my brain off because I. Don’t. Want. To. Remember.

That’s the curse of having an Eidetic Memory. I can’t forget anything I hear or see or smell or even fucking taste. Every event, every experience, every single snapshot of my life will burrow its way unrelentingly into my brain like a fucking diseased tick. People think that having a photographic memory is some kind of gift, like a god damned superpower. Shit, there was a time I believed that. School was a cake walk. Anything I read in a textbook or learned during a lecture was easily categorized and referenced in my mind for future use. I could tell you the tie’s my Freshman History teacher wore every day of the two week period he taught the class on the Fall of the Roman Empire. That was almost ten years ago. I can even recollect wall to ceiling to floor what my first girlfriends’ bedroom looked like right down to the prayers on all those creepy fucking Precious Moments posters she had plastered over her walls. I was thirteen.

But here is the problem with having every second of my life seared into my memory like a brand. I don’t get to pick and choose what is remembered. When something horrible happens to me, something so dark and depraved and painful it would rival my worst nightmare, I will be condemned to remember. Every. Fucking. Detail. In high def. I’ll hear the screaming and the begging, feel the pain of a blade slicing my skin over and over, smell the fear and taste that coppery flavor of blood as real as if it was happening in the present. The memory will brutally rape my mind until there is nothing of substance left and the only escape from the constant punishment of it comes in the form of a powder or a pill or a bottle. Or pussy.

Pussy seems to help drown out the ghosts that haunt me. Temporarily anyway. Which is why I stumbled the two blocks from the bar to my apartment with Blondie on my arm. She was more than ready to fuck, she’s hot in that fake porn star kind of way, and most important she came with snowy white party favors.

“
Fuck
you’re good at that honey,” I groan, my large hand grabbing the back of her slender neck pushing my dick deeper down her seemingly endless throat. Bringing the bottle of Jameson to my mouth I take a pull that would put Tommy Lee to shame. The burn hits me quick, and I relish the feeling of my eyes rolling back into my head as the effects of the alcohol and coke mixed with the sensation of a warm tongue licking my cock and taking me deep again cause me to fall back on the mattress, the box springs singing that familiar tune of carnal abuse as I hit it hard.

“
You like that Liam? God you’re seriously big,” she purrs while her hand takes over where her mouth left off, pumping me up and down.

That should be a huge fucking turn on, but my name on her cigarette laced voice almost causes me to lose my erection, especially when I open my eyes again and find fake violet ones staring back at me, begging for my approval. Approval she will be waiting a long ass time for because the disgust I have for myself in this moment has been reallocated to this chick. Everything about her is phony; colored contacts, cheap blond extensions attached to her head, and definitely fake tits. Even the scent of her is a fucking turn off; some kind of overly sweet flower smell, but it replaces the odor of death and blood that habitually surrounds me so I acquiesce.

Fuck!

Why did I have to open my eyes? Maybe if I get drunk enough and high enough this will never even be a memory.

“
Don’t talk honey. Just suck.”

“
Mmmm I love when you call me honey,” she moans creeping her fingers slowly toward the hem of my shirt, her other hand fisting my dick hard just like I need.

The harder she sucks me off, the harder she works her hand up and down my shaft, the easier it is to push the memory of
that
night further and further away. So I need her to stop fucking talking.

Chuckling I grab her hand off my shirt.

“
You shouldn’t. I only call you honey because I can’t remember your name. Now stop talking and suck me off. Or you can leave. I don’t really give a shit.”

Her faux violet eyes shoot up at me clearly in shock that I would say something so offensive. But I know she won’t leave. I clocked her as an insecure bar slut the minute I served her a cosmopolitan and she adjusted her already low cut shirt further down to give me a better view of her tits while constantly brushing her hands over the tats on my arm.

“
You’re an asshole,” she spat out but stays conveniently on her knees in front of me.

Nothing I haven’t heard before, or anything I would argue with. But what the hell did she expect? A few winks in her direction, some shared shots of tequila-which I’m not technically supposed to drink while working- and the mention that I was once an amateur boxer had her panting and guiding my hand under her skirt in the bar bathroom before she even gave her name. A name I now could not fucking remember for the life of me.

Tammy…Taryn…Trisha? Something with a T. Or maybe a P.

Nope. Not coming to me.

God damn this coke is good. My face is numb, my fucking mind is numb. I need to get the name and number of her dealer before I shove her ass out the door.

“
I know I am. But maybe you can help save me. Turn me good again honey,” I say with a cocky ass smile. I know the effect I have on women without even trying and that little ray of hope should do the trick of getting her gifted little mouth back on my dick.

Christ. I am an asshole
.

Blondie smiles big and works her hands back toward my shirt. My entire body tenses at the realization that she is trying to take it off.

“
Stop,” I snatch her wrist with the hand not attached to my whiskey.

“
What? I just wanna see what you’re working with under there. I know fighters have cut bodies. It would make me much more eager to suck you off. I may even be willing to swallow,” T or P something teases licking her lips slowly.

Fuck it.

What do I care what this chick thinks. Two scenarios could play out. She will either excuse herself as she runs out the door, which is fine by me, or ignore what she sees and continue blowing me.

I’m sure my cock would agree that the latter scenario is more favorable. 

Normally I try to avoid taking clothes off all together, but I know Blondie is not going to let up and frankly I’m too fucked up right now to put up much of a fight. And I need this. I fucking
need
to get off. I crave the silence in my head, a break from hearing
her
call out for me to help her. To save
her
. A brief reprieve from seeing and hearing my brother’s last fucking breath.

“
Go for it honey, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I say laying back on the bed, taking another swig of Jameson as the ceiling above spins in an endless circular maze, speckles of silver and black dots swirling round and round.

The feel of my shirt gliding up my abs should excite me, but only causes panic.

“
Holy shit,” I feel her breath whisper against my skin before my shirt even reaches my pecs. “Maybe you would be more comfortable if you kept the shirt on.”

What she really means is that
she
would be more comfortable if I kept the shirt on. I’m lucky my pretty face was spared from any lasting damage or I may have never gotten laid again. T or P something doesn’t bother to ask what happened or feign sympathy as she kneels back down on her knees and takes me deep into her mouth again.

“
Shit”
I curse under my breath taking another pull as her tongue glides up and swirls around the tip of my cock.

It’s almost time for another hit of blow
.

This chick does have talent, definitely not an amateur when it comes to sucking dick. The feint afterthought that I should be wrapping it up before letting her mouth touch my cock flashes through my inebriated brain. But where was the fun in that? Truth be told I deserve some kind of STD, something that could permanently fuck up my future, but it won’t happen. I’m god damn invincible and no matter how much I test my luck it will never fail me, despite how often I pray it will; begging for punishment like a drowning man searching for air. Unfortunately invincibility seems to be another one of my curses.

Fuck. Maybe I am some kind of superhero
.

My hand lazily finds its way on Blondie’s head as she takes me deeper and deeper into oblivion.

Damn I’m so loaded at this point I barely remember my own name, so P or T something shouldn’t feel bad.

I don’t bother to warn Blondie that I’m about to come. I know she will take whatever I have to offer. Just like all the ones before her. With a grunt I jet semen down her throat, pulling her hair slightly causing her to moan in appreciation and sending a nice little vibration around my dick.

Now the welcoming silence descends and my memories have been wiped clean.

Nothing. But. Nothingness.

“
Damn honey that was something.”

Sitting up on the bed and I tuck myself back into my pants, still managing to hold on to my whiskey like a God. Damned. Pro.

“
Mmmhmmm,” she hums. “Now it’s my turn. By the way my name is Samantha,” she informs wiping her mouth seductively with her fingers.