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Fuck.
“Hey!” I croak as he turns around to go, stuffing his dick back inside his pants. “My money.”
He throws a bunch of five-dollar bills over his shoulder, and I watch them flutter in the wind before I start moving. Goddammit.
Pushing off the wall, not bothering to muffle my groan, I stumble after the bills through the puddles of the alley. Once I have them in my pocket, I use said puddles to clean up as best I can. Vomit. Cum. Filth. I’m shaking with cold and some shock, despite this not being my first bad encounter. Despite the constant violence in my life.
I need… a fucking break. Not sure how much longer I can keep doing this, only that I can’t afford to stop, not yet, not now.
And the night is young. What I just made is nothing to Simon. If I don’t get him more, we’re all in trouble. I stagger back to my street corner, feeling like roadkill, and probably looking the part, too.
Fuck, I hope the police don’t pass by. I don’t think I can run tonight.
I lift a hand to my face and wince. That cut burns, and my jaw feels swollen. The concealing cream won’t last long at this rate. Plus, I’m wet from the puddles of the alley, and the wind won’t let up. My stomach is a twisted knot, and my body aches in new places.
How is this better than being with Raine, no matter how confusing being with him is? At least Raine didn’t hurt me. His apartment is warm and clean, and…
And there’s more, things and questions I don’t wanna acknowledge.
That I’m curious if he can make me come. If he’s a better person than I thought. Nicer. Good enough to match his pretty looks. Kind like his brother.
That I’m longing for something more, something I can’t name.
Or maybe I’m just that tired, that defeated.
It doesn’t matter. When I see Raine’s truck cruising down the street, I don’t turn and go. I wait. And when he rolls down the window, those blue eyes meeting mine, and asks if I wanna go with him, I say yes.
Chapter Thirteen
Raine
I wasn’t planning on picking Jason up on my way home. In fact, I’d told myself several times to not even fucking think about it, not after what happened last time.
Plus, I’m saving my pennies. My two part-time jobs aren’t making me much. Not like I can throw away forty and eighty bucks on sex every time—and for what? I can pick up a guy at a bar like everyone else. Have sex without having to buy the service.
I still roll down the street, just to check Jason is okay. I know that otherwise I won’t get any sleep—because I’m fucked in the head and can’t stop thinking about him, right—and then I see him, standing at his usual corner, looking gorgeous even from a distance, dark hair framing his handsome face, black pants slung low on his hips and a black jacket, the very image of a sexy bad boy.
When I roll closer, he straightens from his slouch against the wall, slow and careful, brows lowering over his eyes. He looks straight at me, and I’m caught, like every time, by the pain lancing through his dark gaze.
There and then gone as he tilts his head to the side and one side of his mouth tips up in a crooked smirk. Fucking hot.
I shouldn’t stop, but I can’t for the life of me remember why I’d decided I shouldn’t. Clearly I stand no chance where this guy is concerned.
Rolling down my window, I lean out to talk to him, but before I open my mouth, a wintry blast of wind stings my face. Christ, I can’t imagine standing out there in that thin jacket. He’ll die of cold.
As if to confirm my words, he turns to the side and coughs, wiping his mouth on his arm, and fuck. I don
’t like it.
Caught between desire and worry, I make a new decision—or maybe not so new: the same one I keep making over and over, every time I see him in real life or in my dreams.
“Climb in,” I say.
He looks at me for a long moment, those expressive eyes shielded, but the arch of a brow speaking volumes.
Then he nods and limps around the truck to do as I asked.
He actually fucking limps, and I thump my fist on the steering wheel just as he opens the passenger door and climbs inside.
