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And it was freeing.
“Life could always be worse,” I whispered to myself.
I didn’t know how long I stood out there, but it felt like an eternity. I drifted through my thoughts, just let my guard down. The alcohol had taken up steady residence in my body, this light, floating sensation filling me.
It was the sound of footsteps coming closer that had me looking to the side. The shadows partially obscured the clear male form, but I knew who it was. I knew who that dark, shadow-covered figure was.
Butcher.
I could smell his cologne, a scent that had parts of my body tingling I didn’t even know existed. Arousal licked through my veins, mixing with the alcohol, making me feel even lighter.
I didn’t move from where I leaned against the clubhouse, and the longer I stared at him, the more Butcher’s form came into view, the more the shadows dissipated and I felt myself falling for him.
He was dark and so was I, both of us wrapped in this corruption that was like a second skin. I’d run from it, but it never left me. He lived it. Maybe it was a recipe for disaster, but then again, maybe we were two of the same and meant to be one.
I watched as he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans. He produced a lighter. In his other hand, he held a joint. He placed that thin, rolled-up joint to his lips and brought the lighter up, flicking it on and bringing the flame to the end.
And then he inhaled. It was several seconds before he exhaled, that cloud of sweet-smelling smoke moving through the air, wrapping around me. I wasn’t a stranger to drugs, not when they’d been my mother’s spouse, child, addiction for my entire life. But pot… marijuana was the only thing I allowed myself to partake in. It was the only thing I’d ever experimented with. And that feeling of floating away, that inhale and relaxation that followed, was the only peace I ever got.
The scent of weed permeated the space around us, around me.
“You’re drunk?” Butcher said between taking another hit.
With the joint between his lips, the end lighting up orange as he inhaled from it, I felt my heart race a little. He pulled it away from his lips, and after holding in the smoke for a few seconds, he exhaled, blowing that sweet-smelling cloud toward me.
“You gonna answer me?”
It was then I realized I hadn’t said anything.
“Maybe,” I finally said, the weed making its way through me. I licked my lips, not about to show him that he’d gotten under my skin, that all I’d been able to think about since first seeing him was how my desire was a living entity in me.
He had his eyes trained right on me, the joint between his lips again. He inhaled, pulled it away, and held it out to me to take. I looked at it, wanting it, but also knowing it might make this so much worse. But at the end of the day, I said fuck it and took that joint, placing it between my lips.
I took a nice, long pull from it, holding in the smoke, letting it fill my lungs, coat them, staring right into Butcher’s eyes.
Everything inside me seemed so heightened, so ultra-sensitive. I was aware of the beads of perspiration dotting my forehead, of the warm, fuzzy feeling that consumed me. I was aware of how my nipples were hard, how my pussy was becoming wet the longer I stared at him. Even his body heat seemed more pronounced, slamming into me until sweat lined between my breasts and down the length of my spine.
We stood there, neither of us speaking as we passed the joint back and forth, and I didn’t even try to stop how I felt in this moment.
My life thus far had been fucking insane, horrific at times, depressing and all consuming. And Butcher, a man I didn’t even really know, a man who admitted to stalking me… who saved my life for no other reason than he wanted to protect me, had emotions opening up in me, had me wanting to forget about this moment and just give in.
Just give in.
As we finished off the joint, and I was trying not to focus too hard on Butcher, all I could think about was how it would feel to just let go. For once in my life. To just say fuck everything and everyone and give myself something that would most definitely feel good.
But no. I couldn’t, could I? I had to be strong, stronger than letting my emotions dictate how I felt. I cleared my throat, my mouth dry, my tongue feeling thick. I was high, felt like I was floating.
“You’re strong, a fighter,” Butcher finally said, and I felt surprise fill me, but I didn’t say anything in response. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a runner, but I guess snatching money from a motherfucker like Henry will make anyone do anything.”
I felt my anger grow. “You don’t know the first thing about any of this.” I hissed those words out, my emotions running rampant, my desire to hit him, lash out, to use him, riding me hard. “I didn’t run.” Those words were spit out of me like acid. “I survived.”
The light behind him cast the front of him in deep shadows, making him seem bigger and stronger. “Fair enough.” He took one more step toward me.
My heart was beating so fast and hard. I wondered if he could hear it. Could he see it?
I felt the truth bubble up, not knowing why I was about to tell him about me, about what I wanted to do with my life.
“I know about you, Poppy.” His voice stopped me from saying anything. “I know about you, and not because I looked up information on you, not because I had my guy search you and find everything out.” He took another step closer. “And not because I followed you… stalked you, Poppy.” He was just a foot from where I stood, the highness from the pot making things seem almost dreamlike.
