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I reach for the First Aid kit and a bottle of Smuggler’s Club whiskey. “Vodka.” My shoulders pull taut. “Since when did you start drinking vodka?” “Since you said you wouldn’t kiss me if I drank whiskey.”
“I just killed a man for looking at you. Think I won’t kill a few more for having their fingers inside of you?” Breathlessness sweeps through me and heightens my pleasure. “I’m just saying; that’s a lot of math at a time like this.” He abruptly pulls his fingers away. A mix of hollowness and desperation replaces them, but it only lasts a few moments, then I hear the snap of an elastic waistband and he pushes his length into me with one hard thrust. My walls burn from the girth and the shock, tearing a cry from my throat. Raphael’s head follows mine to the pillow, coming to rest by my cheek.
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“All my other fuck buddies call me Penny.” Violence hits me like a lightning bolt. “And all your other fuck buddies will be six-feet-under if you mention them again.”
“He means, he gets why Rafe is obsessed with you now. You talk almost as much shit as he does.”
“I killed his brother for you. And then I killed Martin because he’d have come to the Coast to kill me.” He fills up his glass with more vodka, pausing thoughtfully before taking a sip. “Actually, yeah. I killed him for you too.” “Why?” “Didn’t like the idea of another man putting his hands around your throat,” he says dryly. I grit my teeth, digging my nails into my palms. “I set fire to his casino.” “Semantics.”
A bolt of lightning fissures the space between us. Before the thunder comes, I run toward him. It’s not until my face is buried in his neck that I realize he’s picked me up, his strong forearms caging me to him as he takes me into his quarters.
“What are we celebrating?” “Me losing four million dollars in a racehorse investment.” “Is that my fault?” “Of course.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, letting my arms fall. “Did you just bite me?” I look at him seriously. “You know what they say. Eat the rich.”
It’s pathetic. The moment her voice floats out of the speakers and touches my ears, I’m smiling
Even though she’s brought me to my knees and set my world on fire around me, I’m not letting her go anywhere.
When he puts his hands over my ears during a thunderstorm. When
“I didn’t choose love!” he roars into the wind, eyes black and agitated. “I chose the King of Diamonds! I didn’t choose you!” His anger sparks my own to life, and suddenly, I forget this man could end my life with a slip of a fingertip. “And I didn’t either, yet here I am, stuck in your fucking trap! Stuck so deep I fear I’ll never get out!” His breathing slows, his eyes sharpening with clarity. I take advantage of it, putting my hand around his throat too. We stare at each other. Him naked and bloody, me soaking wet and shivering. We look nothing like the King of Diamonds and The Queen of
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“Wait,” I blurt out. He turns at the top of the stairs, hopeful eyes clashing with mine. “Black.” They narrow. “What?” “That’s the color I want my Birkin.” I pause. “The first one.” Then I slam my broken door shut.
The billboard that looms on the cliff above Hollow has always been there, but it usually displays a ‘Home of Smuggler’s Club Whiskey’ advertisement. But not tonight. No, tonight, it features a very large, back-lit picture of me. An enormous sharpie-style cock has been drawn on my head—one mid-jizz—and on the left, a slogan is printed in big, black capitals. “Raphael Visconti is a massive dickhead,” I drawl, reading it out in my best bored tone. “Wow, how long did it take you to think of that tagline?” “The advertising agency said I wasn’t allowed to use ‘cunt’.”
Penelope Price in Numbers Height: Comes up to the third button of my shirt. Reaches the second button in heels Weight: Perfect Age: I try not to think about it Alias: Queenie, Little Shit, Brat, Good Girl (note: this is rare; she’s never good)
“Kick me in the shin again, and I’ll spank you harder than I did last night.” I jump at his sudden warning slicing through the silence. When I don’t reply, he pops open an eye and smirks at me sleepily. “Never mind, you’re just admiring the view again.” “No, I’m not.” Yes, I am. “I’m thinking.” “Does it hurt?” “Shut up.” His dimples deepen, and he runs a large paw over his cheek. “All right, thinking about what?” “You know, how weird it is that you’re my boyfriend now.” He frowns, jaw tensing. “You trying to piss me off before nine a.m?”
“But I like having an ocean between you and everyone else.” I laugh. “Yeah, but it’s a pain in the ass. Besides, how can I walk around naked if there’s a chance I might bump into the first officer in the living room?” “You wanna walk around naked?” “Uh-huh.” He pauses. Rakes an eye over the hem of his hoodie. “Then we’ll start looking.”
