Page 9 of Ivy’s Poison

In somewhat of stupor due to her serious shift, I shook my head. “No, babe.”

Her head slowly fell back before she asked the ceiling, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Maybe I seem good compared to some.”

Her eyes found me again. “They are my family.”

The club members. I gestured about the room; her being left alone with me by ‘family’ members so she could fuck me for money. “Then I’m glad to be without.”

As her eyebrow rose, I realized this bitch got me to admit something else.

I looked to the white stained headboard.

In the corner of my eye, I saw her nod. “Don’t you want a family?”

I growled, “No.”

Ivy heavily exhaled while laying back on the bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Snarling at her assumption I wanted sex, I informed her of the truth. “I’m only here to find out what you want.”

I was surprised to witness a tear drip toward her ear while she stared at the ceiling, her red hair fanned across the ugly green blanket. She sounded defeated. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Five hundred dollars for an ‘it doesn’t matter’?”

Ivy inhaled so deeply, I suspected she had changed her mind about sex. That is until she tiredly sat up. “Don’t worry about it, Champ.” Robotically, she stood and faced the door. “I can make the cash elsewhere.”

My grip tightened on the knife handle as she headed out the door. I ground my teeth to the point they should have busted as she closed the door behind her. Now alone in the room, I told myself, Don’t you do it. My feet tried to move forward. Don’t you fucking move. Let her go. But it was hopeless. Something about her was too bewildering to deny. I had craved her for three years. Losing my chance for another taste was more compelling than any willpower I had once possessed. Before I knew what I was doing, I was peering out the window to see if there were bikers waiting to pounce me. With none in sight, I opened the door. “Ivy.”

Already in the middle of the poorly lit dirt parking lot, she turned around to face me. To say she appeared lost and heartbroken would mean I was blind. Ivy appeared utterly hopeless and absolutely unsure of how to survive it.

Pissed that her wellbeing had become an issue for me, I sternly asked, “What did you need to talk to me about?”

Just then, a truck with three drunk guys pulled into the parking lot. Their music was loud and the windows were down. They parked, got out, and sloppily walked toward their room, talking and laughing about their night.

Eye on a prize, Ivy wiped away tears and fluffed her hair that I wanted to tangle in my fingers. Then she did that Ivy strut bullshit that made me a little… hard. To make sure they were getting a proper glimpse, she cooed, “Hey, boys. You look like you had a good time tonight.”

The soon to be murdered boys turned to see sex in pink Doc Martins headed right for them. After their eyes popped from their sockets, they all smiled hungrily. One wearing a baseball cap said, “And our night doesn’t need to be over yet, does it, sweetheart?”

Growl…

Drunk or not, heads swiveled in my direction. Nonchalantly, I flipped my knife into the air then casually caught it, hoping my message of ‘not fuckin’ happenin’ was loud and clear. Drunk feet scurried and a hotel room door slammed shut.

Smiling with pride, I explained, “The, uh, boys are done for the night.”

Ivy stomped her cute as fuck pink boot. “Motherfucker!”

I shrugged while cleaning under my fingernail with the blade.

“Fine.” She shrugged, too, and approached me, holding out her open palm. “That bullshit just cost you five hundred dollars.”

Daringly, I turned my back to her and walked back into the hotel room. I heard her angry breaths as she followed and slam the door shut. When I felt her grab my arm to turn me around, I spun and put my knife to her throat. Ivy never even flinched as if already knowing me well enough to expect such a reaction. In fact, she pushed against my chest until my back hit the wall behind me. I never moved my blade as I studied her, wondering what the hell she had planned. The sharp edge stayed at her throat as she sunk to her knees, eyes locked on mine.

As her hands moved to my jean buckle, she angrily said, “I don’t do handouts.”

My lungs panted as all the blood in my body rushed to my cock. Talking felt like a challenge. “This is not needed.” Please don’t stop.

Ivy pulled down my zipper. “Not needed or not wanted?”