Dirty Ugly Toy Page 14

  “Bunny?”

  The voice. Dark, rich, powerful. It tugs me from my dreams and I run to it willingly. As I blink open my eyes, I’m reminded that I’m in the Hole. After dinner, Brax left me to “turn in early.” I came upstairs, washed all the whore makeup off and combed out my ratty hair, donned a robe, and crawled onto the piss mattress in the Hole to sleep.

  I’m sure the closet or the Theater Room would have been warmer but they don’t smell like him. Braxton Kennedy. The dickhead who I’m hopelessly attracted to. Yesterday had been humiliating—and that’s saying something coming from a used up whore. Had it been his friends or even the doctor or Dubois, I could have dealt better. But Christine and Cartier had been there. They were horrified, I could sense it. And I was embarrassed. I’d hardly said two words to Christine the rest of the day. It was a little more difficult to avoid Cartier though. That man just gets right up in your face and suffocates you with his delicious manly scented bear hugs. He promised me things would get better though and I clung onto a false sense of hope.

  But the thing that has my mind reeling is what happened after they left the room. When it was just Brax and I. He’d said terrible things to me and I liked it. It wasn’t like my past where I’d been ridiculed by someone who I thought loved me. Instead, it was like he said these dark, dirty things to reach some sexual animal inside of me that I’d kept well-hidden over the years. I’m still confused about how my body responded and desperately craved his vicious words. A warmth flushes over my chest and my heart flutters.

  I’m sick. Just like I accused him of being. And I look forward to more. Maybe I do need to chat with Natalie and try and figure out what’s wrong with me.

  “Bunny!”

  The voice again.

  “In here,” I respond and sit up as the door flings open.

  His massive frame hulks in the doorway and his chest heaves. He probably thinks his precious toy ran away. Well, he’d be wrong. It’ll take a lot more than a few spankings and him humiliating me for me to leave. This money could mean a new future for me. For once, I’m wondering what that future could hold.

  “Jesus, Jessica, it’s fucking cold in here and you don’t even have a blanket. Come here.”

  The fact that he called me by my name has my heart fluttering at that hope that Cartier told me to hold on to. Because even though awful things come from his mouth, he can also be sweet. The sweet is what somehow makes it all better. When he held me yesterday after all he’d done to me, I felt whole. It doesn’t quite make sense in my head but I like both. A lot.

  Brax and I are cut from the same complicated, dirty cloth.

  He reaches for my hands and I take them, allowing him to pull me to a standing position. His grey, stormy eyes from yesterday are gone and he regards me with the deep blue ones that make me feel revered.

  “Get showered and dressed,” he tells me, pushing a dark strand of hair from my eyes. “I’m taking you shopping.”

  I squeal in delight which earns me a breathtaking smile. Before I can stop myself, I fling my arms around his neck and kiss his warm lips. “Thank you.”

  He nods and I break free to get ready. Half an hour later, I’ve found the most comfortable outfit in the closet after a quick, hot shower: a pair of charcoal-colored pleated pants, a pair of snakeskin, black heels, and a white, ribbed sweater that fits my body like a glove, accentuating my breasts and flat tummy. I don’t find any jewelry but find a black and grey, patterned scarf to hang around my neck. My makeup, I do minimally but enough that I decide I look pretty and my hair which has begun to dry wild, gets pulled up into a messy bun that looks like I spent hours styling it that way.

  After a few minutes staring into the mirror, I decide I look . . .

  Normal.

  Like the old me.

  The thought cuts me deep and I hurry away from the mirror. Brax is no longer upstairs and I find him in the dining room shoveling in some scrambled eggs. Today, he’s not wearing a suit and I want to eat him up. His solid chest is decadent encased in a fitted, mocha-colored long-sleeved Henley. He’s styled his hair in a messier-than-usual way and as I approach, I’m jealous to see him wearing a sexy pair of nice jeans while I don less casual clothes.

  His need to humiliate me was confusing at first but now I’m beginning to understand him more. Brax is aroused sexually by sadistic behavior, but he’s not evil. I know fucking evil. He may get off on calling me a whore, but most of the time he’s more human than monster, and he always sees to it that he pleasures me beyond my wildest dreams. I seem to crave both the man and the dark creature that lies beneath. What he does to me isn’t unforgiveable. In fact, I know that if I were to press the issue, he’d back down. Say the safe word. Pause. I’d have my ass out on the street but I’m not his prisoner. I’ll never be anyone’s prisoner again. Brax simply has a complicated sexual appetite. And lucky for him, I’m a complicated woman who clearly gets off on what he does to me.

  “Bunny,” he says, his voice quiet as he sets the fork down on the plate. “You look . . .”

  I smile and steal the buttered toast from his plate. “Normal?”

  My cheeks burn because now I’m embarrassed. I look like the woman who would wear something like this every day for work a decade ago. That same woman whose biggest concern was making sure the clothes had been taken to the dry cleaners or that she changed her oil every three-thousand miles. I’m jealous of her simple life before it all went to hell.

  “I was going to say beautiful.” His voice is gruff and he hungrily drinks up my appearance. Then, he smirks—oh, that sexy smirk of his—and winks. “You’ll never be normal, Bunny. You’re a weird one.”

  I swat him playfully and sit on the edge of the table. He finishes his eggs while I devour both slices of his toast. Brax doesn’t even argue when I gulp down half his orange juice. I’m smiling when I catch Christine staring at me from the kitchen. She seems pleased with me which is a vast improvement from yesterday. I’ll take what I can get with her. I actually like Christine and don’t want her to be unhappy with me.

  Brax stands and helps me to my feet before depositing his dishes in the sink. “Chris, we’ll be back by dinner.”

  She nods and walks over to him to pick a piece of lint from his shoulder. The gesture is motherly in nature and it warms me. But the vulnerable, despondent look in his blue eyes nearly guts me. “Take your time, sir. If the day gets away from you, take her to one of those seafood restaurants at one of the piers. Don’t rush on account of me. I was going to make something simple anyway.”

  He breaks away from her and for a moment a funny tightness makes my chest ache. Why does this feel like a date? And why does that notion excite me?

  “This is not Pretty Woman. I am not Richard Gere and you aren’t Julia Roberts,” he groans when I drag him into a coffee shop.

  I can’t help but laugh. I’ve been comparing us to the movie and trying to irritate the shit out of him by my incessant babbling. It’s working, sort of. He seems more amused than annoyed though.

  “Coffee is the workaholic’s heroin,” I tell him knowingly as we stand in line.

  He raises a brow as if to inquire how I know about anything other than being a skanky ho. I shrug my shoulders. “I wasn’t a whore my whole life, Mr. Kennedy.”

  His answering smirk is endearing and I sigh. It’s been fun letting Dubois cart us around to all the shops in Seattle today. I spent three hours in Target alone, much to Brax’s horror, and bought every pair of yoga pants they had in my size.

  “What were you then?”

  “I’ll have a Grande Café Mocha with extra cream. And big boy here’ll have something tall and dark. Stir in a little evil while you’re at it,” I tell the barista, careful to evade his question. The blonde at the register scrunches her nose in confusion.

  Brax huffs. “A Grande Drip. Black.”

  “Like his soul,” I add in.

  He pinches my butt and I laugh. The girl rings us up but refuses to make eye contact
. Once we have our coffees in hand and are seated by the window that overlooks the rainy Puget Sound, Brax clears his throat.

  “Bunny, what did you do? Before. Before prostitution and before the souvenir shop?”

  I drag my gaze from the water and regard him with a frown. “Stuff. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m just a whore now.” My words are bitter and I have to look away from his beautiful face. We were having fun and now things have taken a turn down Shitty Lane.

  He reaches across and takes my hand. “Tell me.”

  Huffing, I meet his interested stare. “I managed an office at a law firm.”

  Shock crosses his features and then he scowls. “Are you educated?”

  I swallow and nod my head. “Bachelor’s in Business Law. I minored in Accounting.”

  We sit in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts while we drink our hot coffees. It warms me a little but my toes are still little popsicles. Heels weren’t meant for shopping in Seattle in the fall.

  “Jesus,” he says with a groan and stands, striding over to a trash can to drop his empty cup. I can’t help but admire his butt in his sexy jeans. The man was a pig yesterday but I still wanted him. Today, he’s so close to perfect that it’s scary. My hopes are on a rollercoaster ride as I attempt to keep up with his ever-changing moods.

  He stalks out of the shop and stands in the rain for a moment, running his hands through his hair. The man is hot, no denying that. I just wish he wasn’t so cold too.

  I abandon my cup and hurry after him. He’s climbing back into the car and slams the door shut before I reach him. I’m about to hop in after him when Dubois shakes his head at me from beside the car.

  “What?” I hiss.

  His face sours. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, you should stop.”

  I gape at him in confusion. “Stop what, Dubois?”

  “You say and do things to make him weak. He may be my boss but he’s also my friend,” he clips out. “I won’t allow you to hurt him.”

  Flipping him off, I snap at him. “You’re blind if you think it’s him who’s getting hurt in all of this. Newsflash, it’s me. And for some reason I seem to like it.”

  His gaze softens. “He’s not as tough and put together as he outwardly displays. For some odd reason, you get inside of him like no other woman ever has. I hope that you don’t abuse that power.”

  He opens the door and I huff as I get inside the car. His words irritate me. I’m not the one calling the shots around here. I’m not the one whipping people. I’m not the one controlling every single aspect of someone’s life. So why is Dubois so pissed at me?

  “Now what?” I question Brax. His frame is rigid as he stares out the window.

  “I was going to buy you a computer and help you enroll in some college courses. That’s part of what I do for my toys. But you . . .”

  “I’m different.”

  He exhales loudly and glares at me. “The statement of the fucking year.”

  “You don’t have to buy me a computer, Br—” I start but quickly catch myself. “You don’t have to buy me a computer, sir. However, I could help you work if you want. It’s kind of boring spending the day getting all dolled up. As much as I like gazing dreamily into Cartier’s chocolate eyes, sometimes a girl has to give her hormones a break.”

  He growls and I laugh. “Bunny, he’s gay.”

  Shrugging, I pat his knee. “I like to look at pretty things, what can I say. Don’t get all jealous on me. I just said I’d rather spend my time with you than staring at the angel man.”

  His chest puffs out a bit and I curl up against his side as Dubois merges into traffic. A shiver that has nothing to do with the frigid air courses through me when he wraps a heavy arm around me.

  “At the next stop can I change? I’m freezing in these pants and shoes. I think my toes are going to fall off,” I mutter against his chest.

  He tenses but slides his palm up and down my back quickly as if to warm me up. “They won’t let you into the restaurant I made reservations at if you’re looking like a soccer mom.”

  My lips find his neck and I press a soft kiss there. “So take me somewhere I’ll be accepted.”

  I traded my slacks for a fitted pair of jeans and my heels for socks and comfortable tennis shoes. Now I feel like a hundred bucks.

  “I smell fish. Christine will be happy,” I laugh as we walk arm in arm into the Pike Place Market.

  He chuckles and I love the rich sound that somehow makes its way above the loud roar of people shopping in the market. “I think she will be, Bunny.”

  “What’s up Dubois’ butt anyway?” I question and stop to inhale a bouquet of pink and yellow roses. “He’s been grumpier than usual today. I guess he doesn’t like me much, huh?”

  When I pop back up and glance at Brax, he seems angry—his jaw clenches and the deep blue turns grey. “He’s protective over me is all.”

  I nod and don’t push the matter any further. He’s been fun to be around today and I don’t want him to go back to being a jerk. Together, we make it through the maze of people and browse trinkets and treats on the way to the “soccer mom” restaurant. When I’ve officially driven him crazy, and like a little kid begged for everything, we finally make it to the end and he guides me into a casual seafood restaurant.

  The server seats us by a window that has a spectacular view of the Sound and the Ferris wheel. He orders a bottle of their finest wine—which only costs twenty eight dollars—and studies the menu with a sour pout.

  “You’re spoiled, Braxton Kennedy.”

  He peers over his menu and his gaze darkens. “And you like pushing your luck, toy.”

  I swallow and glance back down at my menu. Something happened from the time we got out of the car until now to change his mood. He’s not the playful boyfriend-type sex god from earlier. Now, he’s back to playing master and if I don’t cut the shit, he’ll probably bend me over his knee right here in the restaurant. The image of him sliding his belt off and having me bare my ass to him in front of everyone causes heat to rush through me, straight to my core.

  “I hate your spankings,” I say in a whisper. “But for some reason, I think about them a lot. And for some really odd reason, it makes me hot.”

  He grits his teeth and drops his menu. “I should make you suck my cock right here under this table.”

  I have to look away for a moment, unable to meet his eyes. Images of his humiliating suggestion heat my cheeks and causes an ache of need to bloom in my lower belly. When I look up again, I find him shaking his head.

  “Jesus, Bunny. Does anything frighten you?”

  My skin chills as I think about him. I blink away my nauseating memories and glance down at the menu. “Have you tried the salmon here?”

  I know he hasn’t but I’m desperate to change the subject.

  His foot nudges mine under the table and I feel compelled to look at him. He demands attention without uttering a word. Authority pulsates through the air—charging it—as he watches me. I’m not afraid of him—quite the opposite actually. When he gets all “I’m the Master” on me, I get turned on.

  “I’m going to find out what scares you,” he tells me with a growl, “and I’m going to make you face it.”

  He’ll never know.

  He’ll never know.

  “What can I get you two?” The server smiles at us and thankfully disrupts our odd exchange.

  I’m still frozen somewhere between the past and the present so Brax orders the salmon for me.

  “I will find out, Bunny.”

  Undress and wait in the Princess Room.

  His words had been short and without any inflection of emotion. I’m confused because despite him being seemingly pissed at me during dinner and afterward, once he guided me straight to the car, he still went back and bought me the yellow and pink rose bouquet. It was sweet and they were fragrant, I’d been in love with the flowers and the gesture. However, the entire ride home was awful as he igno
red me completely.

  Now, he’s downstairs barking orders at Dubois to unload all the packages and I’m hiding naked in my closet. He’d said be in the Princess Room naked and waiting. Since the closet is in the room, I’m technically not disobeying. My feet are cold again now that I’m naked and I shiver just wondering about how cold they’ll get in the Hole. I wish he’d just take me back to his fur rug downstairs in his room.

  My mind flits to the conversation with Natalie. Once we’d come home, I’d asked to use Brax’s phone to call her. To my surprise, he handed it over without questions. The small morsel of trust made it easier to make the call. Despite his seemingly angry disposition at dinner and on the way home, he’d softened momentarily at my request.

  “I’m glad you called, Jessica. I am here to help you. Not hurt you.”

  I chew on my lip as I clutch the phone and swivel in his office chair. His office smells like him and even though I’d been humiliated here yesterday, I don’t have any ill feelings now. In fact, I find comfort here because it reminds me of Brax. I’m beginning to associate that sensation with him no matter how hard he tries to fuck with me. Deep down, he has another side—a side I witnessed today while out on the town with him before he got all pissy. And I want that side of him too.

  “I like it when he hurts me but I don’t want it all of the time,” I whisper, as if voicing it implicates me in some sexual crime.

  I can hear the smile in her voice. “Of course not. Who would want to be hurt all of the time? As humans, we crave gentle connection too. Do you feel like you receive those connections?”

  My heart aches as I think about the way he’s made love to me or the compliments he gives me. I like the way he praises me, caresses me, and kisses me. “Yeah.”

  “Good. That means he’s doing his part. Are you doing yours?”

  I gulp and sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s okay. It’s a learning process. Brax needs you to give into him. When he can exert power over you, he feels complete in his dominant role.”

  “But sometimes, I don’t want to call him sir. Sometimes, I like riling him up.”