Page 23 of Expressionate
Once he's gone, I realize we're not in the middle of the crowd. We're in the middle of the room and that means we're right in front of a giant cage made out of metal fencing. My eyes span up. I don't know how I missed it before. Maybe I had been too overwhelmed by the amount of people. Maybe it was because everyone else seemed so much taller and had blocked out the linked wall that separated us from the inside of the cage. But it’s there and now it sucks up a lot of my attention. That is, until my gaze drifts back towardTax.
He walks along the side of the cage until he comes to a door where another man is waiting. The other man is older, with a poorly done comb over. He grins up at Tax as Tax approaches, appearing dark and larger than life. I don't like where this is going. The noise, the violence in the air, the electricity zinging under my skin from Tax's gaze. All of it is colliding within me. I feel like I'm the one about to be caged in, not Tax. Though no one has told me a damn thing about what this place is, I'm not stupid. Tax is going to fight, and it’ll be bloody. Why else would he take off his shirt? I know the moment he walks into that cage, I won't be able to leave. I'll be stuck here, glued to the floor. I'll have to watch him. I'll have to know. I need to go before he does it. I need to get away while I can. I shouldn’t havecome.
My fingers slip from Blake's belt loops. He looks at me. I take a step back. I'm still holding Tax's shirt, I realize. I need to give it to one of them. He’ll need it after – the cage door closes behind Tax and it's too late. My breath evaporates. My heart rate stutters and picks up. I watch, spellbound, as Tax's back muscles shift under his golden skin and I'm reminded of a different back – a different time. I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory, but it won't be denied. My eyes widen, and I'm thrown back intime...
* * *
19 yearsold
"Come on, Love."Danny's heated breath rushes over my neck as he gropes my breasts, squeezing until they hurt. I tilt my head down to the side, and allow him access. My vision blurs in front of me. I reach for the bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter, but Danny tugs it away from me. "No more," he says. "Any more and you'll be too drunk to enjoyit."
I don't want to enjoy it. Doesn't he understand that? I don't enjoy it. I don’t want this – any of it. I close my eyes and sag back. "Let go of the fucking bottle, Danny, or I'm not doing it." He releases the handle of vodka as I reach for it and it drops to the ground, shattering at both of our feet. I don't even have the energy to curse or jump away. My hollowness is a graveyard of past emotions that I once understood – that I once could feel. But I can’t anymore. I just let the clear liquid rush over my toes, stinging the small cuts already made by the broken pieces of thebottle.
"Danny," I say as he steps away, his feet free and clear in his steel toedboots.
"I let go of your bottle, Love." His big hands reach out and grab the hem of my shirt from the back, jerking it up over my head. My arms come up all on their own and the fabric leaves my skin. I shiver and my nipples pebble. I don't want to fucking do this. I don't care enough not to do it. I wish I had at least gotten another shot in beforehand. Danny's friend comes in from the other room, swaggering across the linoleumtiles.
"This your girl?" heasks.
"Yeah," Danny replies, turning me so that his friend can see my tits. Danny cups them, molding them in his hand. Each caress is a slice against the inside of my chest. More glass cuts my feet. The friend notices. He also notices my lack of flinching or crying. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad as what's insidedoes.
I close my eyes as he approaches. Instead of going immediately for my tits or the zipper of my jeans like I expect he will, the friend bends down and lifts my legs, his hands around my thighs. He keeps my feet off the ground and pushes me between himself and Danny, until my breasts hurt and my back aches. Numbness washes over me as he looks into my eyes. His are dark and dangerous. Hurting. Cold. Frozen. Likemine.
When he looks at me, I feel every inch the ice queen Danny has accused me of being. That doesn't stop him from fucking me. It doesn't stop him from bringing his friends over to fuck me. I've noticed the way Danny talks to them first before he comes to me. He's haggling a price. He doesn't realize that I know what he's doing, but I do. And somehow it doesn't affect me. I don't care that he's getting paid to let his friends fuck me. I wonder if they're even his friends. If he even knows them. This one – though – this one is different from the others. Because when this one looks at me, I feel different. Ifeel. It's strange and I don't much care forit.
"Are you okay with this?" heasks.
I blink at him, my hips squeezing around his waist. My hands anchor on his shoulders. "I don't care," Ireply.
"I know," he says. "But are you okay withthis?"
Danny grunts an irritated noise and looks up from licking, biting, and kissing my neck. "Do you want to fuck her or talk to her?" heasks.
The man doesn't look at Danny. He keeps staring at me. "Yeah," I finally say, "I'm okay with this." I'm okay with this because I don't have anywhere else to go. I don’t want it, but I deserve to be used like this. No one enjoys what they do tosurvive.
When he kisses me, I keep my eyes open. It's to remind myself of what I'm doing, of who I am. In the window behind him, I watch as he takes his shirt off with one hand and tosses it to the side, somewhere beneath their feet in the vodka and broken glass. His muscles move, entrancing, as they shift over me. As he unzips his jeans and rips my own, dropping my legs long enough to strip them from me. I don't even blink as more glass cuts into my feet. In his shoes, he's just as safe as Danny. I'm always the only one that ends upbleeding.
The stranger picks me up again – is someone like him really one of Danny's friends? He slams into me, plunging deep into my pussy, pumping. He kisses me again – breaking my concentration. His tongue sinks into my mouth and I twine mine around his as Danny holds me tightly against his chest. Danny’s rough fingers on my nipples hurt. He squeezes them too roughly, pinching down hard and then releasing. When the blood rushes back to them, they ache. The ‘friend’ pulls back, putting his head on my shoulder as he thrustsfaster.
I watch as if I'm detached from my own body as his back moves, the muscles clenching as he pushes in and out, until he’s pulsing in me. First him, then Danny, and then both of them together. I flinch when Danny slides in my ass. He never uses enough lube. I close my eyes, blocking out their faces and sink deep down inside, blocking out the sensation of their hands aswell.
* * *
Blake's handon my arm drags me back to the present. I'm not with Danny anymore, but the memory causes my stomach to lurch. I'm not standing in his dirty kitchen with the moldy tiles or the broken glass, I remind myself. I'm in a warehouse, and there's a cage and people, and Tax is bleeding.Tax is bleeding.I gasp as another man comes, seemingly out of nowhere, forward and slams his fist into Tax'sface.
"Are you okay?!" Blake shouts above the crowd, his hand on my arm. I'm still rooted to the same spot. Even Cross is looking back at me like I'm fuckingcrazy.
"I'm fine," I hear myselfsay.
Cross looks at me a moment longer, but either he really doesn't give a shit, or he believes me, because he turns around and focuses on the scene in front of him. Blake, however, continues looking at me, his gaze serious, concerned. I step up to the cage, trapped now, as if the moment the gate closed behind Tax there was some sort of string tying me to this place – tying me tohim.
I'm on edge, shaky, as I approach the cage's exterior again. Where has my structure gone? I'm not used to this. I shouldn’t be here, I think to myselfagain.
The quiet in my mind is broken by the screams and shouts of the crowd. I jerk around, looking for something. Then I realize they’re all yelling at Tax and his opponent. "They’re just getting started,” Blake says in my ear. “It’ll get worse than this, just wait.” He has to yell it even though he's standing right next to me. I nod my head, hoping he’s talking about the people surrounding us and not Tax. If I try, my voice will get lost in the crowd and it might never comeback.
My eyes catch on Tax and hold there. His skin is sinewy, his stance ready and experienced. I can tell he's done this several times before because he doesn’t hesitate. There's the striking difference in his expression that I'm not used to. All he's shown so far is the sarcastic and stubborn asshole. In the cage, he's deeper into himself. I can tell. There's a calm about his features, a serenity that I didn't even realize he was missing before. I wonder if he feels the draw to this like an ache deep beneath his skin, an ache he cures with a fight that might leave him bleeding and broken for days. I wonder if this is hispurge.
The man with the comb over stands on the other side of the cage, watching intently. I take a moment to let my eyes wander to the opponent and they widen. The other man is large. Possibly even larger than Tax and his eyes are bulging. In fact, almost every part of the man is bulging. His neck muscles, his veins, his biceps. He's huge. Probably from steroid use, I decide as I watch his eyes twitch over the people in the crowd and then back to Tax. He's zeroing in on his prey, practically vibrating with the need to cause damage. Make Tax bleed again. My stomach churns at the thought. I don't knowwhy.
