HATE ME AGAIN: a bad boy romance novel Page 6

  “What?” Hunter asked.

  Our waitress came to the table with two fresh mugs of beer.

  Hunter touched her wrist. “Sweetheart, you better bring some whiskey.”

  “Listen to me,” I said. “It was a long time ago. It was a fucked-up night. I met her. Shit went down. We got married.”

  “Like legit married?”

  “Vegas married,” I said. “But it’s legit.”

  “Oh fuck,” Hunter said. He leaned back and rubbed his chin. “You fucking idiot.”

  “What?”

  “She found out,” he said. “Violet found out. That’s what happened.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I planned to tell her everything. But then Stacey showed up. Stacey’s the bride.”

  “Christ,” Hunter said.

  “So, the two-second story is this…Stacey showed up unannounced. Violet answered the door. Violet left.”

  “And you didn’t chase after her? Man, you’re…”

  “Shut up, Hunter,” I said. “I’m not in the mood for that bullshit tonight.”

  “Fine. So, you’re married. How does that legally play into the business of things?”

  “That’s why I’m still married,” I said. “It’s easier to just deal with Stacey once in a while when she needs cash. Okay? I know I have to address the situation sooner or later, and I will. But not tonight, Hunter. Not tomorrow either. And I’m not fucking talking about anything to do with her or Violet. We’re out having a few beers and talking business.”

  Hunter stared at me, shaking his head. He looked away for a second, then sucked in a breath.

  “Okay. Fine. Business.” He grabbed the folder and opened it, flipping to the last set of papers. “These are all the customers on a wait list to get to us. A fucking wait list, Mason. And there are a bunch that would rather deal with you over me. I’m fine with it. I get it. So, I need you to get on these.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “I can handle that.” I shut the folder and grabbed my beer to hold it up. “To business.”

  “To me being your boss,” Hunter said.

  “To you fucking yourself.”

  We clanked glasses and had a cold drink.

  The waitress came back with a couple shots of whiskey.

  “Here you go,” she said.

  “Thanks, babe,” I said.

  “Hey, don’t call her babe.”

  The voice was nasally, and it came over my right shoulder. I looked back and saw some prick standing in a nice shirt and pants. He had sunglasses on his fucking head with greasy curls sticking everywhere.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I asked.

  “Mason,” Hunter said. “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” the waitress said. “That guy has been after me for a while.”

  “Don’t call her babe,” the prick said again.

  I stood up.

  “Shit,” Hunter said.

  “No, please,” the waitress said.

  I looked at her. “Do you like him?”

  “No.”

  “Does he bother you?”

  “Yeah.”

  I turned and looked at the prick. He puffed his chest out.

  “Come on,” he said. “Take a swing at me, asshole. You don’t talk to her like that. I’ve been working that for months. Throwing cash down. She owes me a fuck.”

  “Owes you a fuck?” I repeated.

  Something started to burn inside me. I pictured Violet as the waitress. Yeah, she didn't have to work, but whatever. I pictured her new boyfriend talking to her like this prick was talking about the waitress. I was grasping at small straws, but it was working.

  I was fucking angry.

  “Eat shit,” the prick said. “Pay for your drinks and get away from my woman.”

  “I’m not your woman,” the waitress said. “You can’t talk…”

  The prick raised his right hand. The waitress flinched. Now, that told me two things. First up, the prick was threatening her with physical violence. You want to take a woman to bed and toss her around? Fine. You want to tie her up? As long as she’s cool with it, have at it. But to lift a hand to a woman knowing your intention was to hurt her…

  Hell no.

  Second, the way the waitress flinched told me she had been hit before.

  That’s when I lost my shit.

  I threw a right and hit the prick so hard he left his feet and fell into a table. He was bleeding, holding his face, damn near crying.

  I wasn’t done.

  I went after him, dropping a knee to his gut. I got two more good punches in before Hunter pulled me away. He threw me back, and I fell into the bar, catching myself. I spun around and Hunter put a hand to my chest to keep me from going crazy.

  “Stop,” he yelled. “Stop right now.”

  I looked at the waitress. She was in shock. I looked at the prick on the ground. He was holding his face, crying.

  “He was going to hit her,” I called out. “You all fucking saw that.”

  I was yelling to a bar of strangers.

  One guy walked up to me and put a hand to my shoulder. “Don’t worry, man, I saw everything.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “He was…”

  The guy opened his leather jacket and showed me his badge.

  Then he grinned.

  “Turn around, asshole. You’re under arrest.”

  I sat in the fucking cell all alone, only the sound of my breathing to keep me company. I looked at my right hand. It was fucked-up a little, but not too bad. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to town on that prick, but something snapped inside me. Not to mention seeing Violet again.

  She fucking came to the building and stood at my door. Then I had her against a wall, my hand touching her waist. I was inches from that sweet mouth of hers. I thought about all the things I did to that mouth. With my mouth. With my tongue. With my cock.

  Fuck, she was poison to me.

  And then she throws at me she has a boyfriend? What the fuck is that? Was that a cheap shot at me? Hell, maybe she was just making it up. Trying to get a rise out of me. Well, she got a fucking rise out of me—in my pants as well as the anger in my heart.

  All I could hope for then was for her to read the letter…

  “He’s right down here,” a voice said.

  I stood up and watched as the arresting officer came around the corner.

  “You’re getting out, Mason,” he said. “Good behavior.”

  “Right,” I said.

  I figured it was Hunter with him, bailing my ass out of jail.

  Only behind the officer came the clicks of heels.

  And then came Stacey.

  I was in complete fucking shock, staring at her as the officer opened the jail cell.

  “Come on,” he said. “Get out of here.”

  “How…” I muttered, looking at Stacey.

  Her lips were blood red. She was vicious and evil, oozing with lust and intention.

  “You were telling the truth,” the officer said, thinking my how comment was directed at him. “The guy you knocked around was about to hit that waitress. Turns out he did hit her last week. She was afraid to report it. He’s getting questioned for that right now. You’re free to go.”

  “No charges?” I asked.

  “Nothing yet. If anything changes, you’ll hear from me. Now go face your wife. Good luck.”

  “Come here, baby,” Stacey said and puckered her lips. “Defending another woman. So noble and sexy.”

  She clawed at my arm, and I had to keep my cool as we left together.

  I got into her fancy sports car, and she peeled away, tires squealing.

  After a few minutes of silence, she said, “I think the words you’re looking for are thank and you.”

  “No,” I said. “How did you…”

  “I know everything,” she said. “Plus, I cut your buddy Hunter off to get to you. He’s bringing your truck to the apartment. I made sure everything is okay for my hubby. You owe me for this, though.�
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  “Money,” I said. “You’re here about money again.”

  “I didn’t like how our conversation ended,” Stacey said.

  “So you drove here all the way from Vegas?”

  “Anything for my husband.”

  I didn’t speak another word to her until we got to my apartment. Walking through the hallway, I swore I could smell Violet. There was a sweet innocence about her that still lingered. And I still fucking wanted to devour it.

  Inside the apartment, Stacey went right to the booze. A bottle of whiskey in her hand, drinking it like it was water. That’s probably what caught my attention about her back in Vegas. But she wasn’t the forever kind of woman, unless you counted her attachment to my bank account.

  “So, you beat up a guy for no good reason?” she asked me.

  “He was going to hit a woman,” I said.

  “And you stand up for that shit?”

  “When I need to. How much money do you need? Give me a price to get you out of here.”

  Stacey laughed. “I’m still calculating.”

  “Think faster. I’m tired.”

  I walked to the bedroom.

  That was a big mistake.

  Stacey took that as an invitation and followed me.

  I stood in front of my bed. It was messy from my fun the night before.

  “I don’t know what you’re going through,” Stacey said as she entered the room.

  “Go away,” I tried to interrupt.

  “But it’s okay to feel whatever you feel, Mason. We don’t know each other that well. That little pretty thing that was here when I showed up…she really meant something, huh?”

  Stacey stepped up behind me and put the whiskey bottle in my hand. I gripped it, and my mouth went dry. I lifted the bottle and took a big gulp.

  “I know she did,” Stacey said. “I didn’t come that day to hurt anyone. But I managed to hurt people, and I liked it. That’s what sucked you in, Mason. You wanted me to hate you, and I refused. Because I could make you hate me more.”

  Stacey took the whiskey bottle back after I took another big gulp. I heard the bottle clank against the dresser and then I felt her nails against my arms as she gently scratched.

  “I’ll always hurt you, Mason. I’ll always crave your hate. That’s what makes this work. That and my need for your money. And truthfully…I want you to think of another woman. Picture that little innocent thing you were fucking…”

  Stacey grabbed the bottom of my shirt. I just stood there and let her take my shirt off. I stared forward at the bed. The messy bed. The bed where I had pleasured Violet so many times. The bed where I fucked other women so hard and loud, on purpose, to bother Violet when she was in her apartment.

  When I felt Stacey’s hands move to my jeans, I didn’t flinch. She opened my jeans, and her hands slid down. Remember, I didn’t wear boxers. That was a waste of clothing to remove.

  Stacey’s hands touched my steel-hard cock, pulling it free of my jeans.

  “Oh, I remember this,” she whispered, her lips kissing at my back. “So fucking thick…so fucking big…”

  “Could you just shut the fuck up?” I asked.

  “Of course, hubby,” Stacey said. She kissed my back again.

  Her hands moved up and down my shaft.

  I sucked in a breath and shut my eyes. I pictured Violet.

  I was so close to having her again.

  I would have her again…no matter what it would take.

  I grunted as the pleasure rolled through my cock and down my legs. I thrust forward at my wife’s hands.

  Violet was in my mind. Naked on my bed. Legs spread. Touching herself. Her eyes burning at me. Her innocence and love, everything I ever truly wanted in life.

  Growling, I pumped myself harder and faster.

  Stacey kept up the pace.

  I kept up the images in my mind.

  My heart pounded…not only because of the pleasure…

  But because I wanted Violet to read the fucking letter and come back to me.

  8

  Fake Groans

  (Violet)

  “You know what my favorite part of this is?”

  He slid my bra strap from my shoulder and then kissed the spot. His lips were soft. His face was clean. My body shivered with the anticipation of scruff roughly tickling me, but that never happened.

  Davis always shaved, always kept up his clean-cut, good boy look.

  I shut my eyes and put my head back, letting out a sigh.

  The envelope was in the back pocket of my pants on the floor. I stood in nothing but bra and panties, knowing where this night was headed and fast. I should have just read the letter in the car when I had the chance. But when I’d stormed out of the apartment complex and got into my car, I’d cried. I hated myself for crying, too. If Mason was worth crying over, then he wouldn’t have made me cry. Then again, was I making myself cry? I was so afraid of the truth and what it could hold for me and him. He was right when he accused me of running. But I was right when I accused him of not chasing me down.

  And now I had a letter from Mason, but I couldn’t get to it.

  The second I walked into the apartment, regret flooded me. Davis was drinking and celebrating finalizing that big land deal of his. I asked him about the deal because he had mentioned it had been closed at my parents, but he rambled off some figures and dates, and I just stopped listening. Which meant he probably lied to my parents to make himself look better. That’s why Dad didn’t like him. Dad could read people and hated fake types and liars.

  Anyway, the second Davis saw me, there was lust in his eyes. He came right after me, kissing me, touching me, stripping my clothes off. I let him lead me to the bedroom and keep going. I let him undress himself, because I wasn’t going to do it. His breath smelled like booze, and his lips tasted like scotch. It wasn’t the whiskey-flavored tongue that Mason had offered me so many times before.

  I could have stopped Davis at any time, but I didn’t. I wanted it. I wanted to be touched. I wanted to be kissed. I wanted to be fucked.

  Even if it was the wrong guy, it was still something.

  In my heart, I hoped the thought of me in bed with another man would drive Mason insanely jealous.

  I sighed again and grabbed at Davis’s arms.

  “Violet? You never answered me…”

  “What?” I asked.

  Davis kissed up my neck and paused at my mouth. He wrestled with the clasp of my bra and shoved his hands into my panties. He touched me, his fingers sliding against my wetness. I let him put me down to the bed, and he stripped off his boxers and came forward at me. I opened my legs, trying to convince myself that Davis really was the right choice. I tried to figure out how it all happened. How I came back to town and ran into him. How I let him say all the right things and sway me. How I let him sweep me off my feet. How I let him take me home that first night we met up again and finally gave him what he had wanted all those years ago.

  It was the same thing he was about to have right then.

  Me.

  He thrust forward and sank inside me. He let out a shuddering groan and bit at my neck.

  I felt him…but I didn’t feel him. He wasn’t the same as Mason. In every way, shape, and form. Not that I was the one to be an expert on how men fucked. But the way Davis did it was like he had a meeting in five minutes and I was just part of the schedule.

  He started to thrust, going from a hard jerk to a jackhammer pounding. I grabbed at his shoulders. It felt…okay. I mean, he was hitting the spots inside me that needed to be hit.

  But it wasn’t the same.

  I finally put my head back and forced out a groan.

  “Oh, shit, yes,” Davis said. “Yes, Violet. Make noise again.”

  I did. Another loud groan.

  Davis always commanded me to groan. It helped him finish.

  I wasn’t sure if a guy ought to tell a woman to make noise. He should just make her make noise. Give her no choic
e.

  “Oh, fuck, Violet,” Davis said.

  He kissed my neck again. He didn’t move down though. I thrust my chest up at him, wanting him to kiss my breasts. They wanted attention. They wanted love. But Davis kissed up to my mouth.

  I groaned from the inside with annoyance.

  He looked at me and opened his mouth and let out a weird sound. It was like the half-dead groan you’d make after you were done throwing up.

  That was Davis’s coming-sound.

  I grabbed the sheets and braced myself.

  He was finishing just as I was getting started.

  He sped up as he came, letting out a sound that he let out with rhythm of his movements.

  Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh…!

  And then he stopped.

  He pulled away and rolled to his back.

  He took deep breaths like he had just ran ten miles.

  I was on my back, staring at the ceiling.

  My lower half tingled, but not in the way I wanted it to.

  Davis touched my belly.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Fucking scotch. Makes me go quick. I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  “I…what I was trying to say before…my favorite part of this, Violet, is that there’s no pressure with us now.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, before there was pressure. I wanted you so bad. You were never ready. I felt like all eyes were on us. On me to become something famous. On you to let me fuck you so I could keep up my reputation. That’s why things happened the way they did. I never meant…”

  “Davis, that doesn’t matter right now,” I said.

  “Right. But it’s sort of nice, you know? You’ve been with people, I’ve been with people. So when we get together, it just feels right. No pressure.”

  “No pressure,” I whispered mutedly.

  Davis sat up and rubbed his face. He grabbed his clothes and went to the bathroom. I waited until he was done, then I went for a shower to wash everything away. Everything Davis had said and done to me. What happened with Mason. I may have cried a little, but it mixed with the water, so I pretended like it never happened.

  I got out of the shower, changed, and looked at my pants again. I crouched and touched the pocket. I slid the envelope out and looked at it. It was a little dirty and folded, like Mason had been carrying it around for a while.