Page 3 of Red Flag Bull

Also declined to leave a number.

I turn the note over, but there’s no further information.

I read it again.

Amanda Warren? What the fuck does she want?

Ten feral lashes and a fat fucking cock in her striped-red ass? Because anger is all I have for that woman, after the way she left things.

Amanda fucking Warren.

She probably found out I’m rich now. Had a change of heart and decided maybe I am good enough for her, after all? The fucking nerve.

I throw the note in the trash, where Mandi Warren belongs, and reach for the next.

It’s about Melders Q. They’ve come to the party. I check the wall clocks and pull my laptop closer. There’s work to do, and I’ve never been happier to have a new task to occupy myself with.

I manage to focus for all of three minutes, before my attention falls to the crumpled note in the wastepaper basket. I stare at it until I’m no longer seeing the screwed-up ball of pale yellow, but the face of the only woman I was ever stupid enough to love. The broken little bird, who was mine for one summer at the end of her senior year, before she spread her wings and flew as far away as she could get.

My beautiful, twisted girl.

What she’d let me do to her…

I return my gaze to the screen, doing my best to ignore the needy ache in my balls and the readiness in my cock.

It’s no use. The numbers begin to blur, and I brush the perspiration from my brow.

I grab the Post-it note from the trash and smooth it out, so I can read it again.

She came back.

She needs me. Needs my unpolished charm. My firm hand and close, brutal attention that give her pain an outlet. If she’s finally sought me out, she’s ready for the punishment I’ll give her. Wants it.

“What have you done, Mandi?” I rumble at the piece of paper, as I yank my belt free and wrench my zipper down.

My hard cock fills my palm completely, and I moan as I soothe its stretched-taut skin with gentle strokes. I only ever get this thick for Mandi. She could split me right open if she wanted to, damn her tortured fucking soul.

I collect the bead of pre-cum swelling at my slit and smear it over her name on the note. “You want to be mine again, Princess?”

A bolt of pleasure courses through me, and I grip my straining cock, as I recall the day I first wanted to claim her. Her throat had felt so delicate beneath my hand…

2

NINETEEN YEARS EARLIER…

JASON

I’ve been watching her.

She’s too pretty for her own good, with the moonlight bouncing off her dark, shiny hair. The curves of her silhouette strike too many adult ideas in my mind — dangerous ones— and she isn’t the kind of distraction I need, when I’m trying to get my life back on track.

I know who she is. I’ve seen her around this small town plenty.

Amanda Warren is one of those rich kids from the holiday mansions along the shoreline of Mountain Lake. Her family has a new man of the house almost every time they come here for the summer, and even a blind man could see the dysfunction from a distance. On the surface everything looks perfect, but there’s no love in that house.

It’s no surprise Amanda began to rebel as she got older, and it’s been amusing to watch her wealthy family’s facade of perfection begin to crack, but this summer — after she graduated high school — has been something else.

A glimpse of adulthood has set her on fire, and there’s every chance she’ll burn herself to the ground with her lack of control.

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