“Don’t believe his shit, Jayden. You’re falling right into his trap of psycho bullshit. You have to stay strong, don’t show him your insecurities,” I inform, my tone coming off stern and direct.
I see her head bob up and down in the dark, nodding in agreement.
“Okay. You’re right. I just—”
“I understand. He snakes his way in, finds what you need. He did it to me with complimenting me. We can’t fall for it. At least you’ll be close to me, being back at the motel,” I grumble, closing my eyes.
***
I stack the condoms one by one while I wait for my next trick. Jayden’s so hell-bent on proving Mick she’s worthy today, she even did some yoga stretches before we left. I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t warn her about the camera in room 2, so I told her. She kissed me for telling her. I should’ve been surprised that she wasn’t upset about being watched while having sex, but Jayden is a free spirit and wasn’t alarmed at all.
A small knock sounds at the door, making me hurry and throw my stack of condoms in the bowl.
A man with long blond hair and dark scruff on his cheeks walks in, wearing a distressed black shirt and ripped jeans with dirty work boots. His skin is a golden tan, and his large hands have white paint on them. No, it looks too abrasive for paint — concrete, maybe? I bet he’s a construction worker. He’s sexy as hell.
“Hey, I’m Tim,” he introduces, his tone deep and rough. He runs his hand through his hair and smirks. My mouth parts as his voice climbs up my legs like an aphrodisiac, my body heating instantly from just the look of him.
“Fancy,” I greet, standing on purple heels.
“Goddamn, you’re sexy. Where has Mick been hiding you?” He shakes his head, swiping his thumb across his chin. He’s a regular of Mick’s, I see.
“You’re pretty sexy yourself,” I purr, sliding my hand down his sweaty shirt. He’s rugged and rough around the edges, but he pulls it off.
He fists my dress roughly. The strength in his hold should scare me, but it has me swooning instead. My body ignites with the alpha pouring from him. He releases me and grabs me by the ass with his large, callused hands. I feel so small against him, and my sex instantly wets. He’s like a caveman, from the vulgar grabbing of my body, to his muscled frame, and the grunts that escape his mouth.
“What can I do for you, Tim?” I groan, rocking myself against his belt.
“Fuck. I want to bend you over and fuck you,” he growls deeply. My body races with the craving to tease him, to have that control he so desperately wants.
“Four- four hundred,” I stammer, so aroused I can’t think clearly.
He drops me, causing me to stumble on my heels, and pulls out four hundred dollars in fifties, tossing them onto the bed. I lean over, grab a condom, and hand it to him. He lifts his chin with arrogance as he undoes his belt and jeans, shoving them down to his boots. I drop my gaze from his fierce blue eyes down to his cock, finding it to be a decent size. Bigger than Smith’s, that’s for sure.
“Bend over,” Tim demands. I furrow my brows at his aggressive tone, but do what I’m told. I turn around and plant my hands on the bed. He lifts my dress to my hips and pulls my panties to my knees.
He slaps my ass hard, the burn racing up my skin. Before I can respond to his roughness, I’m impaled by him. The hard intrusion makes me whimper with pain but shiver with excitement. It’s painful, yet feels so good.
He growls and pounds into me hard, his death grip on my hips bruising my skin. My core throbs as he tears into me, and I want to tell him to ease up, but I don’t at the same time. I want the pain. I want to be punished. I’m angry with myself, angry with the cards life dealt me. Just fucking angry.
He grabs the back of my neck and shoves my face into the bed hard, the sheets nearly suffocating me with my harsh breathing. My legs ache, and my body hurts from the abuse. I can’t take much more.
My fingers begin to claw at the fabric as my lungs burn to breathe, the crappy motel sheets chafing my cheeks as I’m thrust upon them. He pulls my head up by the back of my neck and thrashes my face hard into the mattress, causing my nose to bash into a bed spring. My nose burns, and my eyes water.
Tim growls like a beast, finally reaching his climax. I don’t move, don’t look up, waiting for him to leave. My legs tremble, and my hands shake with terror. He zips his pants and slams the door on his way out, not saying a word to me as I lie here, bent over the bed. A tear cascades down my cheek. I’m so fucked-up. “Ma’am?” Terris, one of the guards, barrels through the door, his tone frantic.
“I heard crying. Are you okay?” he questions frantically.
“I’m fine!” I cry, my tone more angry than I intended. I stand up on shaky legs and grab the bed to steady myself.
“Fuck, Fancy,” Terris mutters. I look down, finding the skin around my hips already turning a shade of purple from the grip Tim had on my hips. I purse my lips and shove my dress down to cover myself when a drop of blood splashes onto it. I frown and touch my nose with my fingertips, curious where the blood is coming from. I bring my hand back, finding the culprit. The bed spring must’ve busted my nose.
“Fuck,” I whisper, staring at the blood.
“Get that fucker!” Terris yells, running off.
I stumble to the bathroom, my hands gliding against the wall, guiding me while my eyes flood with tears. My face doesn’t really hurt, not as much as my pride.
When I finally reach the bathroom, I slump against the wall and fall to my ass.
“Fancy!” Mick yells, rushing into my room.
I don’t move. I just sit here against the bathroom wall, my eyes fixed on the dirty sink in front of me. I can feel it, the grit, the dark, all of which make up rock-bottom. Here I am, sitting at rock-bottom, my mind, body, and soul destroyed. I would think I would’ve hit rock-bottom a long time ago, but here it is… all by one trick. Showing me my place in the world. I don’t have power. I have no control. I don’t have shit. I’m not safe, and nobody can save me.
“Look at me, Fancy,” Mick instructs, pushing my chin to look at him. My gaze slides from the wall to his round face, his thick eyebrows furrowed with concern as his bald head shines from the light above.
“That guy will never come near you again, and he will pay for this,” Mick threatens, his other hand sliding against my cheek. He shifts, grabs some toilet paper, and dabs at my nose.
“Don’t bother, I asked for it,” I mutter, pulling my chin from his grip.
He scowls. “Did you? Did you verbally ask for it?” Mick questions. I don’t answer, just stare at the sink.
“Answer me, Fancy!” Mick roars.
I jump slightly and level him an angry glare. “No!”
“Then you didn’t ask for it,” Mick remarks, standing. “He’ll be handled. As for you, no guy is going to pay for a chick with black eyes and a busted nose. No sex this week. Oral only, and that’s if we’re lucky,” Mick instructs, leaving me to sit on the nasty motel floor with tissue shoved up my nostrils.
***
As the week went by, so did what was left of my conscience. Every day, I woke up from a night filled with nightmares of wings and walked my sorry ass to Mick’s motel. I’m numb, my emotions gone. My thoughts are gone. I’m… gone. I can feel my heart beating, can taste the air entering my mouth. The two important things I need to live, yet I don’t feel alive.
I gave head to two men, and one a hand job. Surprisingly, they were all good-looking. But still, with every rip of the foil to a Jimmie, as Margo calls them, a little piece of my heart goes a shade darker. Although, Jayden and I have a fully stocked fridge, and air conditioning. The day after that john gave me a bloody nose, Jayden and I went home to find a new couch with a TV sitting on a box crate. Mick has kept his word; he’s taking care of us.