Slash and Burn Page 8

  His rehearsed act, the one approved by the committee of teachers, bombed, but halfway through, he began making fun of different classmates. It started out as gentle, light ribbing of kids he liked, but it didn’t take long before he was ripping the shitheads to shreds—the bully who’d picked on him for years, the jocks, the bimbos who didn’t think being smart was cool.

  They had to cut the mike and finally drag his ass off stage, while he yelled a continual stream of jokes as they pulled him toward stage left.

  The laughter—not to mention the screaming and crying—encouraged Nick to keep it up.

  Even the three-day expulsion didn’t matter, nor did the lecture from the principal about hurting people’s feelings. Nick wanted to tell him to fuck off, because no one had cared about his feelings while he’d been picked on year after year after year.

  Even the pummeling by the fucktard bully didn’t matter. In fact, it felt good to stand up after that ass whooping and say, “That all ya got, pussy? At least most of the audience understood my jokes.” He remembered that day like it was yesterday. He turned around and walked away after delivering his last one-liner to the asshole bully. It had been hard not to turn around to look once more or to run, because he was certain the guy would start beating him again. But the guy’s knuckles had to be hurting, not to mention his ego.

  What the hell was that guy’s name again?

  It was going to bug the shit out of Nick.

  But his mind was elsewhere. The bully was something he’d never tell Brina about, but he also wouldn’t tell her about his family. She’d never understand why Nick was constantly joking or why he wouldn’t actually get close with her…but maybe she’d never care to know any of those things.

  Good. That’d make their relationship easier…less complicated.

  Who the fuck was he kidding? Relationship. The woman already had a relationship, and she and her girlfriend planned to simply use Nick as their temporary sex slave.

  Yeah, that sounded about perfect.

  When he pulled into his driveway two days after Christmas, he was glad there was no place like home—either the old home, which probably should have been burned to the ground, or the new one, which was all his and no one could do a damn thing about it.

  Part of him was pissed at himself for giving himself a day to relax, but he knew it was a good idea. Make them wait. Make them really want him.

  He spent his day off making a couple of purchases that were sure to make him a hit on the night of his three-way date.

  The day of, he slept till noon. He wanted to have the energy to go all night long. He took a long shower and then took forever deciding what to wear, including the underwear.

  God, doing that shit made him feel like a girl.

  Didn’t matter. A couple of groupies, he wouldn’t care if they were impressed or not, because they would be, no matter what he did. Brina and her girlfriend, though, were an entirely different matter. He knew, if he played his cards right, that he could potentially be a date for them more than once. That hinged on him getting along with the girlfriend—Monica, Brina had said her name was. And, even though he knew he had an ice cube’s chance in hell of impressing Brina, because the woman seemed impossible to get through to, he had to try.

  He gathered all the items he’d picked up the day before—flowers and…not chocolate, but the next best thing: edible body chocolate. Oh, and wine. A bottle of expensive wine. Those three things might not endear him to these two women, but what the hell would it hurt?

  It wouldn’t.

  He still didn’t know what to fucking wear but he was running out of time. He didn’t want to wear his black leather pants, even though he knew he looked good in them, because they made him sweat. He needed to breathe…so jeans it was. And, after fretting for far too long, he grabbed a long-sleeved black t-shirt that had the Harley logo on it, topped off with his leather jacket. Maybe he’d look like he wasn’t concerned. Brina was constantly cool and collected, so maybe he too could pull off the look.

  He typed Brina’s address into the Google maps app on his phone and hit the road. Part of him wished he had met Monica before, because he had no fucking idea what to expect. Then again, that might make it worse. He did know what to expect with Sabrina, and he was struggling with that knowledge as it was.

  What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d had how many women over the past decade? He’d never had a dissatisfied customer yet…and, although he knew he had to stop relying on the opinions of groupies, a little (no, a lot) of confidence would be a good thing.

  Fuck it. He was gonna have a glass of wine before they got down to business. He’d need a little liquid courage. One glass wouldn’t hurt shit.

  So he cranked the music in his car and drove down the interstate toward Brina’s. They’d agreed to meet around six, and he’d eaten a bowl of soup late afternoon. He didn’t want a heavy meal interfering with his activities, but he didn’t want his stomach growling either. The latter would wreck the mood and the former would wreck his mood. Right now, he felt perfect.

  He would probably want a steak dinner when all was said and done, though, because he hoped they’d give him a hell of a workout.

  When he got to the address, he hesitated. It was an apartment building, like Brina had said, but the place was rough-looking. It had definitely seen better days. When he thought of the word tenement, he had places like this in mind. It was painted white, but it was in need of a fresh coat. The landscaping that had probably at one time made the place feel like home hadn’t been cared for in so long that Nick knew it was a joke to even call it landscaping. There was no longer any grass—there were tiny, dry yellow and brown blades laying in soft dirt that had been trampled by kids. And, speaking of kids, he could tell lots of them lived there, because there were toys everywhere, mostly chunky plastic primary-color toys, both big and small. He spied a couple of Matchbox-type cars amongst the rubble as well, but it seemed like even the toys that looked broken (and there were a few) were played with a lot.

  As he continued walking up the sidewalk, glad he’d locked his car doors, he noticed other junk peppering the property—empty soda and beer cans, cigarette butts, and he even spied two tiny balloons. Shit. That was evidence of hardcore drugs, heroin probably, and it was all out in the open. This was not a place for people to try raising a family. Brina? She was an adult, but he knew, from the toys, that there were probably several children living here who shouldn’t be.

  He cleared his throat. The only reason he’d seen most of that stuff was because, at the very least, the property was well lit. So it had that much going for it. And he knew he couldn’t change the world. He didn’t have the power. Maybe, though, he could start throwing some of his money at charities that would help. He’d never thought much about other people or their struggles, but just walking up to Brina’s door had made him think about something he probably never would have given more than two thoughts about.

  So he walked up the concrete stairs two flights to the apartment Brina had told him was hers, but his mind was not on the promise of sexual activity. It was on the world as a whole, a place where Nick’s mind had never gone before. He was deep in those thoughts when he lifted his finger to ring the doorbell, only to discover that the plastic cover was broken and likely didn’t work anymore. He rapped on the door then, hoping he had the correct address.

  When the door opened, though, all those thoughts of poor children and families flew from his head, because the blonde in front of him was fucking drop dead gorgeous…and wearing next to nothing.

  The next sensation to hit him was the heavy smell of cinnamon—not like something baking, but a spicy tang from some sort of spray aroma. It felt exotic and made his muscles feel like they were going to start twitching uncontrollably, excited to discover what was next.

  The blonde wearing the tiny teddy with skin exposed in all the right places touched his forearm. “You must be Nick.”

  He swallowed. Holy shit. This woman was a
lesbian? Damn…not the kind of woman he thought of when the word lesbian crossed his mind—she looked feminine and absolutely gorgeous. He almost felt guilty that he’d had a stereotyped image in his mind, but he had to let it go. He needed to keep his shit together. “Yep. That’s me.” Be cool, man. Don’t blow this.

  She shrugged. “You’ll do.” Her hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him inside. He noticed that her fingertips were manicured and painted in the crazy fashion women nowadays did them. Sabrina wore nail polish, yeah, but it was usually red or black, and her nails were short so she could play her bass. This woman’s nails were weapon length, and he got all excited again, imagining her tearing the flesh out of his back, screaming his name.

  Wrong orientation, dude.

  Still…he could dream, couldn’t he? Once they were in the door, she flipped her hair behind her shoulder and smiled—a professional smile, nothing warm about it (something she and Brina had in common)—and then she locked the deadbolt. It was then that she seemed to notice that Nick was carrying a bag and had roses in the other hand. “Oh. How sweet. Is that for Brina?”

  “It’s for both of you.”

  This time, her face thawed and her smile felt genuine. She repeated herself. “How sweet. Care if I put them in water?”

  “Please.”

  “Come with me.” He followed her into the kitchen, and then she opened the door under the sink. She bent over and holy fucking hell. What a view. He could almost see everything, and he was pretty damn sure she’d bent over like that on purpose.

  He was going to enjoy himself tonight.

  When she stood back up, she had a vase in her hands and she placed the roses and greenery inside the vase before adding water. “Bri…you should see what your boyfriend brought us.”

  Boyfriend? Goddamn, this was getting better by the moment. Until…

  “He’s not my fucking boyfriend, Monie.”

  Moanie? Had he heard that right? He took a deep breath. Chill, champ. Besides, Brina just shot you down.

  “Ignore her. I’d blame her bitchy mood on her period, only she didn’t get it yet. She’s a real cunt the entire week before that.” Nick had no clue what to say and got the idea that he’d be in huge trouble if he commented, so he kept his trap shut. “What else ya got there, handsome?”

  Okay, yeah. Tonight was going to be fucking epic. This chick might not have been into his gender, but she managed to make him feel pretty damn good just the same. He grinned and wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle. “Wine.”

  “Oh, and the good stuff.” She raised her voice again. “I think he’s a keeper, doll!”

  A keeper? Like he could fuck both these women whenever he felt like? Holy shit. A dream. “Do you have a corkscrew?”

  “I do…but it looks like you have something else in the bag. What is it?” She licked her dark red lips and then bit down on the bottom one. Nick was surprised he hadn’t popped a huge boner yet. This woman was doing every fucking thing right. It was then that he noticed that she had dark brown eyes, and they were beautiful.

  He could see why Brina was proud to call this woman her girlfriend. He was going to say something to that effect when he noticed her standing there impatiently, holding the corkscrew in her hand but looking at the bag in his, and she cocked an eyebrow just like Sabrina often did when she was growing irritated.

  He blinked twice. “Oh, yeah.” He pulled the jar out of the bag. “Just a little something for later.”

  She grinned, twisting the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. “You naughty boy, you. I love chocolate.”

  “I thought all women did.”

  “Smart women do.”

  He heard a snappy click-click of a steady gait in the hallway, approaching the kitchen area. He knew it had to be Sabrina, but he didn’t know that he’d ever heard her walk with that kind of sharp pace before. Of course, he’d only ever seen her wear combat boots and sneakers in the past. He tried to picture in his mind what kind of heels she’d wear, and no matter what image flashed in his head, it was hot.

  Sabrina was hot.

  So was her girlfriend.

  Holy shit, was he in for a hell of a night.

  Chapter Ten

  NICK KEPT HIS eyes focused on cute little Monica. She was pulling up on the corkscrew, and he would offer his assistance if it came to that, but he didn’t want to insult her. He also would have offered to get glasses, but he didn’t want to budge, because he knew Sabrina was right around the corner.

  Sexy Sabrina…aka Sinna. Maybe tonight he’d get to find out why she liked to call herself that.

  Monica’s cheeks were round and full, pushed up because of her smile, and they mirrored her breasts perfectly. She was tiny all over, but she wore some kind of push-up bra underneath the teddy that accentuated her breasts in the best way imaginable. He didn’t want her to know he was overly eager to see her girlfriend. If Monica answered the door dressed like this anticipating a long night of sex, what the hell would Brina look like? God, he could hardly wait to find out. It was hell waiting those few seconds for her to round the corner.

  But then she did and she was far more than he’d imagined. Her makeup looked a lot like Monica’s—red lipstick and heavy dark eye makeup. Nick would now and forever think of it as fuck me makeup. That was only the beginning, though. The shoes…were black vinyl thigh-high boots over fishnet stockings. She was wearing a garter holding those bad boys up with a snug piece of black and red lingerie that left little to his imagination.

  He wanted to tell Monica to fuck the wine…but then he reminded himself that they had all night.

  It was then that he noticed the riding crop in Brina’s hand. Her face was painted in an indelible smirk, the one he always saw in his head when she wasn’t around and he had to picture her in his mind. “Don’t worry, Nicky Sticks, I won’t use this on you.” He wasn’t into pain, but he would have found a way if it was what these ladies wanted. “If you’re a good boy, that is.”

  He could hear the pop of the cork behind him, but his eyes weren’t budging. Monica was a beautiful creature, but she couldn’t hold a candle to this woman…the woman who was quickly becoming the angel of his dreams. “Yeah.” He heard Monica’s voice behind him, and she sounded almost echo-ey in his ears. “But she’s an awfully bossy bitch in bed.”

  He smiled and then bit his tongue. Shit. It almost slipped out of his mouth, what Monica had said a few short minutes ago about Brina being bitchy before her period. No way. He wasn’t going to get in the middle of that lover’s quarrel.

  Brina’s smirk only grew wider. “You love it, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, I do, babe.”

  Brina blew her girlfriend a kiss and it was several long seconds before Nick realized that Monica had called Brina babe like he’d done multiple times before, only Brina didn’t mind it from her.

  That felt like sexual discrimination, and if he’d been in a joking mood, he would have given her shit about it, but for some reason, he didn’t feel like kidding much around Brina anymore. She was a serious woman with a serious streak, and somehow the kind of fun she wanted didn’t seem to mesh with his brand of fun—so he’d backburner it for now.

  It didn’t hurt when she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss…one that almost made him reel.

  Her scent was intoxicating—something spicy, but something that blended well with the cinnamon flavor in the air. And her kiss was aggressive, demanding, and set his loins on fire. He let go at that point and wrapped his arms around her, grinding his hard on into her. In those tall boots, he could look her in the eye—but he wasn’t right now, because his eyes were closed so the rest of him could enjoy all the sensations swimming through him.

  “Motherfuck. You can’t even wait for me?”

  Brina pulled Nick away from herself again, her hand still gripping him around the neck as though he were a dog on a leash. “Just warming him up, doll,” she said, grinning again. When she finally
let go of him, he noticed her nails were long and red, and he figured out she’d put on fake ones for the evening. When he’d seen her last week, her nails were short and black like normal.

  He liked them either way, but he was beginning to understand that she had another layer—a sexual persona…and this was gonna be a hell of a lot of fun.

  Brina walked around Nick and got closer to her girlfriend. “Whatcha got there?”

  “Your boyfriend brought some high end wine and I figured we should have a glass or two before we get started.”

  “We can drink and drive at the same time, doll.”

  Monica giggled. “True.” Brina slapped the whip down on the island and grabbed Monica’s tit before mashing her lips into the blonde’s. Nick felt his cock start to throb, and he was going to try to enjoy that aching dance it did before he could finally let it all go. Aw, fuck it. If he had his way, he was gonna come multiple times tonight, so why not start now? He rubbed his hand down the front of his jeans, hoping to provide just a little relief right now—just enough to take the edge off and warm things up a bit. He imagined the women’s red lipstick smearing against each other, and he could see in his mind’s eye how Brina would run her lips down Monica’s torso and…

  Oh, shit. His cock throbbed hard again. He was fucking torturing himself.

  He ran his hand over the front of his jeans again, and he couldn’t help the moan that formed in the back of his throat. These women were gonna kill him.

  Brina broke off the kiss and looked over at Nick, then started laughing. “Oh, you poor boy. We didn’t mean to leave you out of it.” She looked down at Monica. “Pour the wine.” She clicked around the island back to Nick and then hooked a red knife-like nail into his shirt, turning the fabric into a dog collar, pulling him by the neck so he followed her. He kind of liked it. They stopped once she got close to Monica again, and—by that point—the woman had a glass that she handed to her girlfriend. Brina held the glass up to her nose and whiffed. “You did good, Nicky Sticks. I’m impressed.” She placed the rim up to her mouth and, in spite of the fact that it was a wine best sipped, swallowed a large gulp. Then she pulled Nick close again and buried him in a kiss, only she let some wine flow into his mouth. Damn…it was good stuff, and all it did was make him that much more aroused as he felt her tongue pressing up against his while he tried to swallow the liquid she’d emptied into him.