Thrive (13 page)

It was an image I’d take to the grave, Skye smiling as she threw a punch, lost to the escape of the fight and relaxed for the first time since we’d been back in each other’s lives. But it should have been me coaching her in the ring. It should have been me taking her punches and demanding she do it harder, faster, with more power. I wanted her to hurt me, not entertain some punk kid who killed his father. We sat in silence and I watched her eat while the setting sun sat behind her and brought out red shades in her dark hair. I was winter; barren, cold and empty, but Skye was autumn; alive, flourishing and full of life. Would we ever be compatible? I wasn’t sure, but I refused to consider the reality of what our differences would lead to.

She wanted to talk, I knew that, but she sat quietly and didn’t say a word. I had manipulated her – she shut down because she was afraid of my reaction. I shut down because I was afraid of her reaction. We were mind-fucking each other.

I opened my mouth to talk to her, about anything; about the weather, the brand of tomato ketchup that sat between us, or the ice that melted in her glass of water. But my breath caught in my throat every time I tried and I fought back the three little words that fought to burst out. Love wasn’t enough, and I wouldn’t profess an emotion that only covered a fraction of what I felt for the Skillet.

~Curtis~

Music burst from the speakers and filled the apartment – some sort of remix of a OneRepublic song. I sat up from where I was curled up on the sofa with Curtis’ iPad. He’d said nothing when we ate, refusing to talk about Geoff – or anything else – so I decided I’d get some work done and check in with my friends at home. Thomas had left me enough money to live; he left me everything – the house, his shares in
SportsUK
, his car and all the money in his bank accounts. I could run away and never have to worry, but where was the good in that? I’d run away with money before and in the long run? Everyone I’d ever known suffered for it.

The music continued to pound from behind Curtis’ bedroom door; a fast beat that filled my head with chaos – sampled music from popular songs that were so distorted I couldn’t put names to them; a synthesiser that set my heart racing in time to the sub-bassline.

What the fuck was he listening to?

I tossed his iPad to the side and stood from the sofa, heading for the bedroom. He’d be turning it down. Right down.

I twisted the handle and swung the door open.

The source of the music was right here, louder than the rest of the apartment but the room was empty. Curtis’ phone sat in a dock on the shelf in the corner and I crossed the room. As I reached out to take it off, two big hands caught my hips and I jumped. I opened my mouth to speak – or gasp – but Curtis lips found my neck, catching my next breath in my throat; my body reacted violently, like the music that shook the walls of the bedroom.

“I wondered when you’d come and find me,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and full of lust as his mouth skated over my skin and I angled my head for more.

“This music is…” I trailed off as his hand glided round my front, over my hip and between my legs.

“Stimulating?”

I nodded. “I don’t understand it.”

I swallowed, feeling my throat move against his mouth. My knees wobbled and I clamped my legs closed as his fingertips explored. I gasped.

“There’s nothing to understand,” he said. “Just feel it.”

Snaking his free hand around my waist, he pulled roughly and my body collided with his, every inch of it hot and hard. He rolled his hips, his swollen cock pressing into my ass.

His hands left where they stroked, teased and caressed, setting my body on fire; they quickly tore at my t-shirt, another garment carelessly destroyed, until my body was exposed. One hand returned between my legs, one exploratory finger teasing with fervour as the other took hold of my hand and brought it up to cover my breast.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he rasped.

I closed my eyes and laid my head back on him as I squeezed and pinched my nipples. I moaned freely, feeling the tightening of an oncoming orgasm as the pleasure of my hands, his fingers and his cock sliding between my legs collided. Strangled, hoarse groans left his lips and sent goosebumps erupting to the surface of my skin.

“Curtis,” I keened and rocked my hips into his delicious rhythm.

“Yes, Skillet?”

He slowed with the music I moaned in frustration.

“I want to come.”

“So come,” he smiled against my skin before his teeth sunk into my shoulder. “Fall for me, baby. I’ll catch you.”

I nodded and the emotion moved in with the need to release. I’d already fallen for him, when I was a lost and lonely teenager.

His movements picked up pace; I squeezed my eyes shut and searched for the switch that would bring me the release I needed. Curtis flipped it when his hand moved from my hip to my throat, pinning me to him with no choice but to absorb everything he gave me. I succumbed, crying out with a breathless moan, and let the pleasure take over my body. Every nerve trembled and my legs shook as the euphoria gave way to sensitivity. I begged Curtis to stop but he continued, keeping me on the crest of every wave, until the floor fell from beneath me, my legs gave up and Curtis took all of my weight.

“How are you, Skillet?” he asked with the erotic humour of a man who had just watched his woman come apart.

He was cradling me in his arms, but the music still played, keeping the exhaustion my body begged for away. Curtis was sticky with sweat and wildly turned on, his body melded to mine like he needed it to survive. He needed release. I needed more.

“More,” was my answer, “More, Curtis. Give me more.”

“Are you sure?”

I growled in response and forced my body to hold its own. Curtis chuckled and let go of me. The song playing transitioned into a new, slightly slower but just as compelling piece and Curtis guided me to turn and face the bed. His hand moved to the back of my neck and he bent me over until I fell onto my knees with my top half pressed into the mattress. Both hands skimmed the curves of my waist and settled on my ass. He squeezed and hummed in appreciation. I squirmed.

“I can see how wet you are, Skillet. Wet and needy, and desperate for my cock.”

“Your mouth,” I breathed, my eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. “Use your mouth.”

I heard him fall to the floor behind me and his hands squeezed harder as he dipped his head. I cried and fisted the bed sheet as his mouth, hot with the inferno of passion that matched the fire inside me, collided with where I needed him. His tongue probed, his mouth sucked and his teeth grazed until I was writhing on the bed, held still only by his hand on my lower back. I threw my head back, outstretched my arms and clawed at anything I could get my hands on.

“Yes!” I cried, edging ever nearer to a euphoric scream. “God, Curtis, don’t stop.”

He groaned against me, feasting on me like he was starved and I snapped, grinding against him as my body lost control. He growled, low and drawn out, lapping up my release and caressing my quivering legs.

“Christ, Skye,” he grunted, leaning over me to capture my mouth and we shared the flavour of my need for him. “I need you. I fucking need you to live.”

“So take me.” I wiped his mouth and pushed back against him. “I’m yours, Curtis. Take me.”

Fingertips dug into my pelvis as he nudged into me and kept his body folded over mine. He plunged in deep with short, sharp thrusts, drawing violent cries from our lungs, and leaned up to drive into me. He fisted my hair and pulled, bringing my head back and I arched my back to allow him to thrust into the depth where pleasure and pain became one.

The music thumped, Curtis rode me without restraint, using my hair to hold me still – to keep me open for him. His hands squeezed tight as the burn moved in and joined the madness; the desperation for the man using my body. Our sweat-soaked bodies collided and a new wave of pleasure began to build. My stomach tightened, my breaths came short and brought a whimper with each one. I moved my hands behind me and held onto his wrists; I wanted every stroke of his cock, buried deep and swelling inside me, to take me with him. He shoved me into the mattress, my knees shunted closer to the bed from the force of his thrusts and the sweat began to drip from him onto my back as he marked me as his and I took him as mine.

My animal.

His movements became uneven, rough and erratic. His breaths escaped in growls and groans and conflicted words of encouragement.

“Skye-”

“Yes, you can!” I cried when I heard the tightness in his voice, knowing what he was going to say. I refused to let him ruin this.

The music brought sirens with it and a voice sang about being ready and coming closer.

“Let me do it,” I said, resting up on my hands. “Let me take it from you.”

I threw my head back and looked at Curtis over my shoulder. The need to explode was etched on his face; his chest was heaving and covered with a sheet of perspiration. The muscles on his stomach, tight and rippling beneath golden skin, made me clench around him. The sight of a man nearing release was stunning; Curtis on the verge of an earth-shattering orgasm was the sight I wanted to see when I died. He was no longer human, but an animal who had come to stake his claim. He was fucking beautiful and he was mine. I wasn’t a skillet, he was, and he’d burned his soul into mine.

“Come for me, baby,” I coaxed. “Let me watch you come for me.”

He nodded and moved his hands round to his back. His lean hips pressed into my ass, the ‘V’ disappearing as I watched where we were connected.

“You’re mine, Cut Throat,” I groaned, sliding up and down his cock. “And I want you to give me what’s mine.”

“Ride it, Skillet.” He bit his bottom lip as I took him in and squeezed hard. “Make me come for you.”

I rolled my hips as I fucked him to release. His groans were strained, his face tight, and his cock began to jerk inside me. With a loud roar, he let himself go and collapsed onto me, holding me still as he pumped his cum deep inside me.

He was my animal and I fucking loved him.

I needed to be inside her to stay focused. I needed physical release so my mind wouldn’t run away with me. So, yes, I used her. At first. I soon lost myself to the music, to the pounding of my blood in my ears and the ecstatic cries that accompanied it. It was like a symphony; a filthy dirty symphony of our need for each other; an ominous beat, a sense of hope but a slashing of dreams. Fast pace; time was running out, and speeding past with every second. But our moans were ours. Our feelings were ours and ours alone and no one could take it from us. The sounds that swirled around my bedroom, each one colliding with another and losing itself to fate, was our theme song. Our twisted theme tune of a race towards a happy ever after before the walls crumbled and every demon you’d ever fought came back with a vengeance.

Vengeance.

I was going to kill him.

~Curtis~

It was dark when I woke up, and I knew Curtis was gone. I’d fallen asleep in his arms after he tucked me in and laid with me, whispering words of comfort to reassure us both. I knew he wasn’t here, but still I sat up and scanned the room for him. I noticed his phone was gone from the dock and the doors of his wardrobe were open. Just like Thomas used to do. I climbed out of bed, padded across the room to where my bag was on the floor, and pulled my bunny out. It smelled like Thomas and the pain surged into me again. I was back in the front seat of Thomas’ car. Specks of glass glistened in the darkness of the night; the moon, headlights and blue flashing lights of the approaching help caught the thick drips of blood that were spattered onto what was left of the windsheld. I needed to find Thomas, and reached out my hand to search for him. His seat was empty, but when I turned my head, he was looking at me, his blood-stained eyes fixed on me; they were the warm shade of strong coffee – the eyes that had captured me instantly and kept me safe – but there was no life left in them. He was gone and I couldn’t touch him.

Tears streamed from my eyes as I opened them and looked down at the bunny; a gift for the child we would never have, and a single tear dripped onto his pink nose and absorbed into the wool.

My life before now was insignificant, because I didn’t do the one thing I should have done – protected Thomas and given us the child we longed for. All that mattered now was revenge. Someone had to pay. Curtis and I would suffer, I knew that, but we weren’t the only ones to blame and those who were –
he
who was – would pay the ultimate price for ruining more than thirty years of our lives.

I pulled a clean outfit from my bag and got dressed, a new focus moving in as I realised what I had to do. I rushed through the apartment and threw open the front door…as a manicured hand came up to insert a key into a lock it would no longer fit in.

Charlie.

“You!” she seethed, glaring at me in disgust.

“Can I help you?” I asked sweetly, pretending I had no idea who she was.

“I should have known the trashy brunette would grab his attention.” She tried to step past me, but I left and slammed the door.

“That’s not the only thing I grabbed.” I said, squaring up to her and running my tongue along my top lip. “I also grabbed the base of his cock while he choked me with it.”

She gasped and scowled; I knew her blood was boiling and I was happy to help it boil over.

“You’ve lost him,” I continued. “He’ll carry on stealing with you and working alongside you until I say he’s had enough. But he’s mine. He was just putting up with you until we found each other.”

“Do you know who I am?”

She shoved me away, but I just laughed and shook my head. How do people react when they suspect they’re in the presence of madness? They retreat with their tail between their legs and prepare to beg for mercy.

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Charlie Tattersell, the woman who thinks she rules the world because she squeezes her body into tight white dresses and opens her legs for money. Short answer? Honey, you’re a whore…and everyone knows easy lays never win the prestigious prize.”

I turned and walked away, crossing the hallway towards the lift. I kept the display of bravado in place, but I was terrified. Curtis wanted me to stay away from Charlie and I’d just pulled the pin out of the grenade. The clock was ticking.

“I’ll make you suffer,” she called after me.

“Give it your best shot.”

I stepped into the lift and pushed the button to go down.

The taxi pulled up outside an old warehouse in the Camden; the place I’d asked the driver to take me to. The address Curtis had written on the paper he gave Benny. It looked deserted, like it hadn’t been occupied for years. There were no sounds, no signs of life, only a dim light in the distance,

“What is this place?” I asked the driver as I pulled together the money for the fare.

“Not somewhere someone like you wants to be.”

My skin prickled and I realised where I was. This was where Curtis fought. This was the place he punished his body, and I knew that’s what he was doing inside with Benny. I handed the money to the driver, ignoring his continued words of warning, and climbed out of the car. My shoes tapped on the cracked concrete, the tops of my feet numb from exposure to the cold night air and fear. There was only one sign of entry; a steel door lit by a flickering wall fixture above it. I stopped there and ignored my racing heart, through fear it would stop if I focused on the terror that rippled through me.

Every time I’d ever stepped into a building like this and watched a fight, someone had lost their life. Curtis was all I had and I would protect him no matter what. Should I go in and risk him losing focus, like Oliver, and watch him pay the ultimate price? Or should I stay away and turn around to go home, risking the regret and guilt if something happened and I weren’t there to save him?

I banged my fist on the door, my decision made.

It creaked as it opened and the darkness seeped out, surrounding me before a voice broke through it; a low, monotonous voice that belonged in the dark.

“Can I help you, pretty girl?” it asked.

“It’s Skillet,” I said, searching for a face and watching a man, as wide as he was tall, emerge from the shadows and fill the doorway. “I’m here for Curtis.”

“Sorry, can't help you,
Skillet
,” he replied, the words rolling from his tongue like I was the last morsel of dessert on Earth.

“Yes, you can. Cut Throat Curtis is here…let me in. Now.”

I channelled the authority I’d seen Curtis use to make others comply; my voice was strong with an edge of superiority. Curtis dominated everything he was part of; I knew he was king of this strange, mysterious place and, by default, I was the queen of it.

“Now,” I repeated through clenched teeth, ready to attack if he refused.

“It’s your death wish,” he said with a twinge of humour as he opened the door and I stepped in without a hint of hesitation.

“Where is he?”

“Put your arms out and walk in a straight line. I’m not paying the price for your stupidity by drawing you a map.”

He closed the door and just like that, I was surrounded by darkness with no choice but to stretch my arms out and walk. I took careful steps forward until my palms hit something cold. A door. I shoved it open and stepped into a lit hallway, lined with pallets and delivery cages. The walls were white, fluorescent lights flickered above me and there was only one destination the hallway led to – another door. I rushed towards it, refusing to think. I knew I was being irrational. I knew it was stupid to be here, alone, in a strange place, unable to anticipate the danger I was in, or what would happen next. I reached the other door after what felt like forever and threw my body into it as I pushed it open. The sound of what was inside was deafening.

Hundreds of male voices cheered and shouted a cacophony of words I couldn’t decipher. I was at the back, hidden behind the audience who were too engrossed in their idea of entertainment to notice my arrival. I stood out. Taking one step would alert them to the only woman in the building and I wouldn’t be able to fight one of them off, let alone hundreds of them. I snorted to myself and scanned the makeshift arena for Curtis. A synchronised “
ooh
” erupted from the crowd and it drew my eyes to the cleared space in the centre of the madness. A pit.

A body had been thrown out of the boundaries and the spectators nearest to him banded together to shove him back in. It was Benny, and as I lifted my eyes to find his opponent, already knowing the answer, I saw Curtis. I sighed in relief when I saw he was in one piece, and only the stitches on his brow had come away.

Without thinking, I began walking down the steps towards the fight; gasps hissed around the room and heads turned like a Mexican wave when I drew attention to myself. No one tried to hold me back, no one touched me – they didn’t dare. I ignored them, taking each step slowly and methodically, as I remained focused and travelled along my newest path of insanity.

Each row of men, as I pushed my way through the crowd, stopped watching the fight and watched me instead. They knew why I was here and they were more interested in how this played out than watching two men drew blood. As I got nearer to Curtis and Benny, they noticed the reaction of the audience and stopped fighting to find out what was going on. Curtis’ eyes locked with mine and as he prepared to come to me, I raised my hand – a simple move that held him in place. He looked like a predator who had just been caught mid-kill, heaving for breath, hunched over and prepared to attack; hooded eyes interpreting potential risks, and the embarrassment of being caught by the one person he didn’t want to see him like this.

But he didn’t move.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes passed between the two of us, and the main crowd – the VIP seats if this were anything but a concealed, covert event – parted to let me through. I stopped at the threshold of the pit and slid my hands into the back pocket of my jeans. My eyes shot to Benny to make sure he was only as close to Curtis as I would allow and then I turned to my animal and stepped closer to him.

As if on instinct, a hundred men had bowed to the alpha-female and that woman was me. I was in control and I wasn’t letting anyone take it from me.

The tension in Curtis’ body eased marginally when I stopped in front of him and I ran the top of my index finger from the dip at the bottom of his neck, between his pecks, over the bumps of muscle on his stomach and to the waistband of his red sweats.

“A little motivation,” I said, slowing and lowering my voice to capture every ounce of his attention. “I won't have you getting hurt anymore, so I'm giving you something to fight for.” I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his head down until we were so close I could taste the perspiration that lined his top lip. “End this. Now.”

I pressed a searing kiss to his mouth, the tip of my tongue tracing the seam of his lips, and I tugged on his bottom lip when I pulled back. The crowd cheered, marking Curtis as the crowd favourite, if he wasn’t before, and I stepped back, shooting a warning glare at Benny. The crowd cleared a spot for me and I settled in on the front row and nodded at Curtis. He nodded back. We were in the darkness together.

I forced myself to watch the fight; every dirty punch and strangling grapple. The electricity crackled around the building; this was no longer a mindless fight in the pit. It was the alpha staking claim on his woman in front of his pack. Should I have encouraged it? No. Should I have allowed it? No. But Curtis was going to fight no matter what. It was all he knew, and I refused to let it separate us. We were in this together, until the end, and that involved allowing him to do the alpha thing for all to see, so no one would threaten his position at the top again. I imagined the aggressive music he played earlier as they threw punches, elbows and knees at each other without wasting a second to think. Curtis growled, Benny growled back and they circled each other before striking again. Blood flew and sweat trickled. Stumbles. Grunts. Garbled cries of raw pain. The crowd were riled up, waiting for their chance to play a part, but Curtis kept Benny far away from me, and refused to look in my direction. I felt the energy build in every cell in my body, as if I were inside Curtis, fighting with him and as he planted his feet to the floor and beckoned Benny to come at him, I held my breath. Benny lunged forward but Curtis thrust the heel of his hand out, catching his nose and sent him tumbling back onto the ground. He yelled and covered his face, his eyes turned black almost immediately, and I knew Curtis had won. The men surrounding us cheered and I allowed a smile to trace my lips when Curtis and I locked gazes. He did it.

He didn’t celebrate. He didn’t take a second to lap up the victory. He launched himself at me and buried his head in my neck. His face was sweaty and bloody and as he smeared it on my exposed skin, it set my pulse racing.

“Nice to see you need a woman to be able to win,” Benny huffed and pounded his fist to the ground as he got to his feet.

“She’s
my
woman. The next time you threaten that, kid, I’ll kill you.”

Benny mumbled something from behind his hands, but Curtis ignored it, threw his arm around me and led me up the steps, out of the building I now knew as Joe’s.