Chapter 11
KINGSTON “FROST”
After I jab the needle into her neck, I catch her from falling and carry her to my car.
Smokey is behind me, suggesting I stay here to think about what I’m doing.
He knows I’m a loose cannon when pissed off, but I ignore him.
I place Stevie in the back of my truck, and round the front, hopping into the driver’s seat.
Smokey grabs the door before I close it, and asks, “What are you doing, Frost? You just got out of prison.”
“Teaching this bitch a lesson. I’m also going to find out how she knows Alicia.”
“Come on, man, let it go.”
I jump out, shoving Smokey, which doesn’t do much good. He’s tough like me—solid muscle from workouts and his job.
“She fucking spit in my face. Disrespected me. If I let that go, I might as well wear a pussy sign, so the brothers can beat the fuck out of me.”
Smokey throws his arms up, letting them drop to his side. “She’s pissed, Frost. Understandably. Stevie did it out of anger.”
My body is inches from his. “What’s wrong, brother? Going soft?” I step back, and my arms widen. “When I’m done with her, I’ll let you fuck her next, okay? Is that what you want?”
He only says, “Not soft, Frost, just smart.”
I’m wasting time talking to him, so I get in my truck and tear out of there. In the rearview mirror, I see him staring after me, shaking his head. Fucking prick! We’ve been friends since we were kids, and he’s never interfered. The asshole must really like her.
Pulling up to my shop, Tate’s Tattoos, I fling her over my shoulder, open the door to carry her inside, locking it behind me.
The other tattooist, Jess who lives above the shop, is gone, most likely partying it up.
I lay Stevie down on the backroom table, retrieving my ink, GPS tracker, and tattoo machine, lowering the stool and raising the bed.
Stevie’s hair covers her face, so I brush it to the side.
She looks peaceful. Beautiful. I trace the contours of her face, eyebrows, down her nose, and across her jaw.
Her breathing is even as I cup her small breasts, squeezing and releasing them.
My hands follow my gaze as I remove her top and bra, the air pebbling her nipples.
I lean over, take one into my mouth, suck and gnaw on it, switching to the other.
When I lift, they’re red and wet, the way I like them.
This is my time, so I remove her shoes and the rest of her clothes, letting my hands explore her body.
Aside from a small triangle on her mound, the rest of her pussy is as smooth as silk. Rebel apparently likes to be hairless.
My anger has died down, and I’m hornier than ever, but I won’t fuck her.
She needs to be awake for that. Instead, I take my cock out and jack off while my other hand plays with her tits and pussy.
This little slut is wet. I stand to the side of the table, pumping, twisting the head of my cock, while thrusting several fingers inside her.
Damn, she’s soaked. I close my eyes, picturing fucking her against the wall.
My cock is in a pleasure loop, hot and throbbing, the head getting more sensitive.
Spasms run under my cock and balls, warmth spreads across my abs, and cum shoots out onto Rebel’s stomach.
My eyes open to watch the thick white stream coat her skin.
I wipe my cock off on her, and smear my cum all over her chest and stomach.
I shove my dick back into my jeans, snap on a pair of rubber gloves, and think about where I want to put the GPS tattoo tracker location. The technology is still in its early stage, but a brother of mine hooked me up with it to try out, so it may or may not work.
Her warm left hand rests in mine, my thumb caressing the curve between her index finger and thumb.
A perfect place. Clothing won’t get in the way of a signal.
With my tattoo machine, I stick on a very fine silicon electrode network and dip the needle into the ink to saturate it.
The needle jabs into the electrode network, penetrating the skin, and placing the electrode into the dermis along with the ink.
This silicon electrode network is the size of a pencil eraser—5 mm.
Once I finish, I clean off the blood and ink, putting her clothes and shoes back on. I retrieve my phone to sync it to her GPS, and smile when I see the little dot on the map appear. Bingo!
With Stevie thrown over my shoulder, I leave for her apartment where we’re going to have a little talk.
In the parking lot, Gears and the guys wave, returning to their work, minding their own business.
Once I lay her on the bed, she begins to stir then falls back to sleep.
Sitting in the chair across the room, I light a cigarette and wait.
When she finally wakes, she’s groggy and lifts herself into a seated position.
She hasn’t seen me yet. Brushing her hair off her face, she rubs her hand, and glances down at it and gasps.
The bitch will learn not to fuck with me.
My zippo lighter flings open and closed, which catches her attention.
Stevie presses her back into the wall, eyes flicking from me to the tattoo.
The wheels turn in her head, piecing together what she remembers until now.
Her jaw tightens, meets my stare, and in a hoarse voice, she asks, “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing you didn’t deserve.”
Running a finger over the tattoo, she curses and adds, “A tattoo is permanent.”
“So is the GPS underneath it.”
She pushes up onto her knees on the bed. “You piece of shit.”
I shoot out of the chair and stalk toward her, but she doesn’t cower. “Call me that again, and I’ll staple your fucking mouth shut.”
Stevie shakes her head, avoiding me, and traces the tattoo with her finger. She feels something on her stomach, and slightly lifts her shirt. When she sees my cum flaking off her skin, her mouth drops open and she yanks her shirt higher, wondering what’s on her.
“What the hell is this?”
At the side of her bed, looking down at her, I laugh and say, “My cum.”
She shoots off the other side of the bed. “You fucking raped me?”
“Nah. Just got me and you off.”
Hugging her stomach, she says, “I thought rape wasn’t your thing?”
“It ain’t. My cock didn’t go near your pussy.”
“You’re a fucking idiot. Doing anything sexual to someone without their consent is sexual assault.”
I walk over the bed, grab her throat, and slam her into the wall.
My face is an inch away. “I’m warning you, bitch.
Keep calling me names and you’ll find yourself in a helluva lot more trouble.
” We’re glaring at each other, but she’s visibly shaking.
My hand slips from her throat and I back up. “Sit your ass down for a fucking chat.”
I walk back to the chair, and she climbs on the bed again. It’s the farthest place from me, which has me smirking. While her eyes haven’t moved from mine, she pulls the covers over her body, gripping them tight at her sides.
“How do you know Alicia?”
There’s a long pause, which I allow. It’s bests she think about whether to tell the truth or lie.
From the window above her bed, the moon casts a soft glow over her fine features.
Stevie’s rebellious attitude doesn’t match her delicate beauty.
Different from the women in my environment that I grew up with.
Rebel finally says, “I went to high school with her.”
“And?”
“And what? Don’t you think you’ve done enough to me? I came here…”
She stops herself from talking by biting her lip. Yeah, she knows this is what I want to hear. Always fighting me. It’s a fucking turn on and also aggravating. Instead of admitting defeat, she continues to push back.
“Why did you come here?”
Stevie rises from the bed, making me think she’s coming over, except she rushes into the washroom and locks the door. I laugh at her. A fucking locked door won’t keep me out.
Outside the door, I say, “You coming out or am I coming in?”
“Neither. I’m taking a shower. Stay. Leave. I don’t care.”
The water turns on. She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.
Rebel can have her shower, but I ain’t leaving until all my questions are answered.
Making my way back to the chair, I smoke a cigarette and wait the half hour for her to finish.
I remain quiet, so she’ll assume I left.
The door opens and she tip toes out, freezing when she sees me.
Once she realizes I’m not moving, she grabs clothes, returns to the washroom to change, and comes back out.
She ignores me by preparing a tea. No problem.
I got all night. With my back to her, Rebel remains in the small kitchen, sipping her tea.
“Not leaving until you answer my questions.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, and when I think she’s going to continue to ignore me, she says, “Alicia and I lost touch. Last year, we reconnected and planned a girls’ getaway.”
This has me out of my seat, standing with my arms crossed. “So, you’re the one she took off with?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, we never made it to our destination. We were blind-sided when a car hit us. We spun and were hit again.” Her voice trembles with emotions, and the rest comes out as a whisper.
“After that, I was unconscious. When I woke, I found out Alicia died…” she gestures to her face, “…and I received surgery on my eyes.”
My arms have fallen and I’m gaping at her. I wasn’t expecting this. I knew Alicia took off for the weekend. The old ladies told me, but I didn’t follow her. We were only married on paper, free to fuck whoever we wanted. I was honoring her late husband Hayes’s request.
Stevie breaks my thoughts. “The shattered glass damaged my corneas.” She looks off into the room as if I’m not here. “The glass from the windshield injured my eyes, and I needed a corneal transplant. It turns out Alicia was a match. I received her corneas.” She wipes at her eyes.
Snapping out of her daze, she looks at me. “Survivor’s guilt brought me here. There. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”
I approach her, cup her jaw, and say, “This ain’t the end, Rebel.”
She turns her head to release her jaw from my grip, and shouts, “What else do you want? You had me fired, sexually assaulted me, tattooed me, and I just told you all there is to know about my relationship with Alicia.”
“I haven’t fucked you yet.”
Grabbing the back of her hair, I draw her close, claiming her mouth in a brutal way.
Marking and causing her lips to swell, and then I ease up as I press my erection into her stomach.
Her hands scratch at my arm until I calm my approach.
Then she grips my forearm while tears pour down her cheeks.
I abruptly break the kiss, leaving her shuddering by the door.