epilogue #2
“Oh shit,” she says, her eyes going wide when she sees me pinning Dixie up against the wall, her skirt pushed up while I ram my cock into her.
“Go away,” Dixie shrieks.
“Sorry,” Gloria mumbles, backing into the door that swung closed behind her. “I just came out to bum a cigarette. I didn’t know…”
“Why don’t you bum one from your tattoo artist?” I ask, lifting Dixie’s leg to my hip the way Maverick did Gloria on the dance floor. I stare her down and slow my pace, sliding into Dixie slow and deep without dropping Gloria’s gaze.
She swallows, and then something cold shutters over her eyes, that heartless layer, like a crocodile eyelid.
“Oh, there they are,” she drawls, spotting the pack on the steps. She stoops and picks them up.
I tip my chin at her. “Go right ahead, darlin’. Help yourself.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” she says, glaring back at me as she pulls out a cigarette.
She puts it between her lips, and I’m captivated.
I can’t stop watching the way her lips curve around the little filter, picturing how they’d stretch around my cock, how her mouth would feel against my piercings, against my throat, my mouth…
“Go away, you psycho!” Dixie howls as Gloria lights up and takes a slow drag.
I clamp a hand over her mouth, driving into her so hard her foot leaves the ground, my eyes still locked on Lo. I’m going to get a reaction out of her if it’s the last fucking thing I do. Dixie shrieks a muffled protest, but I tighten my grip, my fingers biting into her soft cheeks.
“Shut up,” I growl. “This isn’t about you.”
I stab into her with sharp, rough thrusts, feeling her body tighten up around me as she tries to shove me away.
Gloria stands there smoking, watching us with bored disinterest, her eyes hooded and her elbow cradled in her other hand.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I growl at Dixie. “For me to prove I’m not thinking about Gloria’s tight little ass while my cock’s inside you? You want her to know how good I fuck you? That you take it better than she could?”
Gloria arches a brow and drags on her cigarette, those fucking lips making me nearly lose whatever’s left of my mind after the Dolces got done raping and pillaging every single part of my life, right down to the warped thoughts in my brain.
Even if they hadn’t bashed my skull in, I’d never be quite right in the head after seeing the things I’ve seen, enduring the shit I’ve endured.
Lo knows that better than anyone. She endured it longer than anyone. She was their queen, and now she’s even more fucked in the head than I am. That’s why I can never beat her at this game.
Dixie moans and bucks as she cums, but I’m too pissed to finish.
When she slumps back against the wall, panting, I pull out and turn away, yanking the condom off with gritted teeth.
I stuff my cock back in my pants still hard, then turn and swipe the pack of cigarettes from the step where Gloria dropped them.
I fish my old-fashioned Bic from my pocket, snagging a little pill while I’m in there.
I swallow the pill dry while I light up, my hands shaking.
The flicker of flame illuminates the stump of my missing finger for just a second before I snap the lid closed.
Dixie’s yelling at me, but I don’t hear her.
I close my eyes and drag on the cigarette, inhaling as deeply as my lungs will let me.
Might as well kill myself with something fun.
We’re all gonna die someday. If I concentrate, I swear I can feel the chemicals invading my bloodstream, racing along my veins to my heart, calming it into the kind of animal that can be tamed, that can stay in its cage and prowl instead of wreaking havoc on the world.
Or maybe it’s just an illusion, one more malfunction in my broken brain.
“You okay?”
Her soft fingertips rouse me, and I open my eyes and look around. My cigarette is just a butt between my fingers, and the air around us is heavy and cold and silent.
“Where’s Dixie?”
Lo gives me a funny look. “She ran off crying when you ignored her.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “I better go find her.”
“She’s inside,” she says, nodding toward the house.
“Thanks.” I know I should leave, but my feet are cemented to the ground.
Gloria’s hair blows against her lips, catching in the corner. She blows it out, leaving a single strand stuck to her lipstick. “Can I have another cigarette before you go?”
I reach out, slowly tugging the hair from her mouth.
A shiver of déjà vous sweeps up my spine.
Suddenly the smell of her green apple shampoo swells as if magnified, my other senses dropping back to let me inhale the scent of her, and tobacco, and the garden beds bursting with daffodils. I lift my gaze to hers.
My voice comes out low, almost choked. “Lo?”
“Yeah?” she whispers. When she swallows, my gaze drops to her throat, the pale skin outlined in gold by the back porch light.
I can see her pulse fluttering like a moth trapped under her skin, like the moth tattoo on her wrist. I can almost feel it against my lips.
She doesn’t move away from my touch, just stands looking up at me with those blue eyes that search mine with more questions than I have answers, more questions for me than I have for her.
I pull away and reach for my cigarettes.
“Nothing.”
*