Page 7 of Fist

I whimper and Fist growls. “That’s right. Tell me what you want, sweetness.”

“Please,” I manage to get out. “Please make me come.”

“I’ll make you come so hard that everyone around will hear your screams. Everyone will know there’s someone in here getting fucked and fucked good,” he promises me. He keeps ramming his cock into my soaking wet pussy, his hot breath sending chills down my spine.

Fist grabs both of my hips and starts fucking me harder. I begin to lose control. “Oh, yes, yes, just like that,” I moan. I let out a choked cry as the orgasm slams into me. It’s all I can manage. He brushes my hand away from my clit and replaces it with stronger, more punishing fingers, all of the control I’m barely clinging to breaks.

I suck in a breath and release a scream of pure pleasure and my pussy clenches around his cock and my body seizes. He’s killing me with delight, and I’m perfectly okay with that. We rock together for another minute, until Fist stiffens and unloads in me, his grunts of satisfaction sounding like music to my ears.

Finally, we collapse together on the bed, and Fist pulls me over so that I’m sprawled half on top of him. His arms close around me, and I soon hear the rhythmic sounds of his breathing telling me he’s sound asleep. I let myself give in to the awe and joy that always comes from being with Fist.

He holds me tenderly, possessively. He doesn’t seem to mind the fact that I’m big boned. I’ve always been on the heavier side, always had a belly, but Fist truly doesn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even realize I’m pregnant because my size hasn’t given it away yet. I know I need to tell him, but I’m just not quite ready. I feel my eyes grow heavier and heavier, and I finally fall asleep with my head on his chest.

And I fall straight into a nightmare.

Tyler and I are in a dimly lit apartment that smells like day old grease and stale smoke. He’s screaming at me, calling me worthless, telling me I’ll never amount to anything. His fist strikes the wall right beside my head, and I can’t stop the flinch or my tears.

“Fat cow.” He sneers, his eyes cold and hard and flat. “You’re so ugly, it’s a wonder I can even get it up with you. I have to think about other bitches sometimes, if you want the truth. Stop that goddamn blubbering, you fat bitch, before I give you something to cry about.”

My tears fall faster, and I cover my face with my hands. I can’t take this anymore. I just can’t. I begin to rock myself where I stand. Tyler’s cruel laughter cuts through my pain.

“The fuck is this? Did you run out of snacks or something? For Christ’s sake, shut the fuck up, or I’ll shut you up!” He’s screaming now, spit flying from his mouth to cover my face in tiny droplets.

I turn for the door, intent on escaping. I make it to the stained concrete landing and head for the stairs.

“Mindi!” he snarls, right behind me.

I turn around to face him. “Please, Tyler, just leave me alone. Let me leave,” I plead, wiping my eyes with shaky hands.

“You fucking bitch.” His voice has gone soft and quiet, dangerous. I feel my blood go cold at the sound. He reaches out and gives me a violent shove. I lose my balance, toppling over the edge of the first step, and keep falling down.

There are twenty-five steps from the first floor to the second. I know; I’ve counted them often enough, trudging up and down to bring in groceries. Now, I’m hurtling down them too fast to count, but I can feel every bump, every scrape. And I can hear the hideous popping noise, feel the searing pain in my leg.

When I’m finally still at the bottom of the steps, I take a shuddering breath and look down. “Oh, god,” I choke out. My leg is twisted at an impossible angle, the white, jagged bone of my tibia rising like a macabre flagpole from a bloody hole. I can’t stop the scream of pain from ripping past my lips.

Mrs. Pauly, the first-floor busybody, wrenches her door open and demands to know what’s going on.

Tyler steps in front of her and offers her a smile. “Hi, Mrs. Pauly. It’s just Mindi; she’s drunk again. She’s got a drinking problem, you know, and gets clumsy with it. This time she’s managed to fall down the stairs and break her leg.”

Mrs. Pauly looks around with her beady bird eyes and gives a short nod. “I’m going to call an ambulance. A break like that needs looked at.” She goes back inside and slams the door.

Tyler makes sure she’s not coming back out, then crouches down to me. His fingers, cold and heavy, wrap around my throat and he leans close to my ear to whisper, “If anything is going to kill you, you bitch, it’ll be me. Not a fall down the stairs.”

I jerk awake, tears on my cold cheeks, and shamefully glance at Fist. He’s sleeping soundly, one arm thrown across his eyes. I don’t want to wake him, so I just brush my tears away, curl up closer to him, and soak up his warmth like a soothing balm.

7

Fist

I pay Pete for the rest of my bill, adding in an extra hundred. He thanks me with a grin and waves me off as I head down the street back to the motel. This time, Mindi’s coming with me on a more permanent basis.

The week we’d just spent together had been filled with fucking, laughs, and long talks. Eventually, we came to the realization that we both want to see where this thing is going. So, I asked her if she’d come back to the club with me since she doesn’t have a job here anymore.

After only a brief hesitation, she agreed, and I left her today packing up her belongings. She’s going to drive her car and I’ll follow behind her on the bike. When I get back to the hotel, Mindi’s waiting on me with a smile on her face.

“Good as new?” she asks, pointing to my bike as I swing off it.

“Seems like it. Are you all packed up?”

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