Real Ugly(52)
“Who sent this?” I ask, realizing too late that I just destroyed any chance I might've had of tracking the message.
“Blocked number,” he replies, shaking his head. “Which is fucking weird because there are, like, five people on this fucking earth that know mine.” He takes another drag and hands the joint back to me. I stare at the strong lines of his face, the perfect jaw, the sloe-eyed gaze. Turner is one of those people that was born to be famous. He just oozes confidence, a natural born leader. I wonder when he's going to get it together and focus all of that intensity and that passion on one woman. God help her when that happens. Once he locks on, I doubt he'll ever let go.
“You tell anybody?” Turner laughs and then leans forward, putting his arm out and pressing his palm against the wall. I take a small step back, so we're not so close. I can still feel his sweaty body against me, still feel his hips grinding against mine. I look him in the face, meet his eyes unflinching. I just got free of Hayden, no way I'm going to become anybody else's bitch, especially not Turner's.
“You really had to ask?” he says and then he just stops, lets go, steps back. He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “God, I knew I smelled another secret. You got anymore I should know about?” I watch him carefully, trying to judge his mood, his intent. What's he going to do with this new information? How is he going to abuse it?
“That's the last one,” I admit, trying to be as honest as possible. He nods like he believes me and rubs his hand over his stubbly jaw. His dark hair is mussy and unkempt, tangled and just a tad greasy. He's not so perfect right now, not his usual decorated self. And it's turning me on. Even through all of this shit, my pussy starts to pulse and I get soaked.
I bend down and start to scoop the bits of phone into my palm. No way I'm leaving them here for somebody to find. Even broken, they could still have information I don't want getting out. I'll burn them or something later.
“So what happened?” he asks again, bending down to help me, taking the joint back and trying to smirk at me. It falls flat. Turner's inked up fingers come out and brush against mine accidentally, sending chills down my spine.
“Well, to make a long story short,” I begin, wondering when the demands are going to start trickling in. I wonder if he'll ask me to fuck him to buy his silence. I'm not a whore, so that'll never fucking happen. I try to come up with something I can offer, something that won't put me in the same position as I was with Hayden, where she had the upper hand always. “I … ” Turner interrupts me.
“No, I don't want the abridged version.” I hold open my palm and he drops the cracked bits of plastic into it. “Tell me everything.” I roll my eyes as we stand up together, surreptitiously checking for any signs of Katie. She could just pop out at any moment and fuck me hard. Not that she isn't trying her best from afar. That is, if it's even her. I just kind of assumed it was, but you never know.
“Why?” I snap, forgetting for just a second that he has my freedom in his hands right now. I look down at the long fingers, at the cluster of stars, the paw prints. Doubt there's any rhyme or reason to the designs. After all, he'd fucking forgotten about my name on his back. I start back across the parking lot, but Turner grabs me around the arm and pieces of phone fly everywhere as he spins me in a tight circle and pulls me into his arms.
His hands dig into my back, rumpling my shirt, squeezing me hard, and his lips find mine, pressing, tongue sliding deep into me while his stud teases the sensitive flesh on the roof of my mouth. My entire body explodes into a million parts, comes back together and lights up the night sky with lust. I kiss him back fiercely, wildly, grabbing Turner's hair and tugging so hard that he groans into my mouth.
And then I shove him back violently, stumbling and falling to my knees as I scramble to recover as much of the phone as possible.
“What the hell was that for?” I growl at him, feeling strange. I can't put my finger on it, but something isn't right. I can't tell yet whether that's a good or a bad thing. Turner doesn't bend down to help me this time, but I can feel his eyes boring into my back. “If you think you can control me now … ” Turner laughs at me, and the sound isn't entirely unpleasant.
“Oh, please,” he tells me, smoking his joint and watching as I stand up and glare at him. He seems a lot calmer now, a lot less nervous. I realize then that I do, too. Much better. I look away and focus on the car near the exit. It's still there, waiting. I wonder if I should go over there. “Is that even a possibility?”
“So what do you want? Obviously, I need you to keep your mouth shut about this.” I squeeze the broken pieces so hard that I draw blood into my palm, turning my gaze back to Turner again.