Page 28 of Red Flag Bull

Did nobody give her love in the years after she left me? Nobody held up a mirror, for her to see the light she had inside? I can’t see the spark in her anymore. Is it hiding or gone completely?

“Wait here,” I command, though I doubt she’d budge until I told her where to go next. She’s stunted, like a pawn on the chessboard instead of the queen.

I head down to the basement with only one focus. I walk past the wall full of floggers, belts, and paddles. Past the stocks and chains and shackles. Past the ropes and benches. I open the glass case that has been the focal point present in every scene I’ve ever performed down here, and remove the helmet and leathers from the feminine mannequin.

I return upstairs and dump them on the table in front of Mandi, don my own jacket, grab the cooler bag I packed her breastmilk into, and sling it over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

12

MANDI

He kept my riding gear.

After all these years.

And they’re in beautiful condition, as if he oiled and cared for them the whole time. What does that mean?

He’s also wearing his riding jacket. The one I fucked for him last night. He didn’t clean it. I can tell, because pale smears of my dried arousal stripe the dark leather.

When he catches me staring, he holds the collar to his nose and inhales so deeply, my pussy clenches in response. My jaw goes slack, my mouth falls open, and he smirks before walking out the door.

Well, he did say he wanted to torture me. Strutting around in his ass-hugging leathers while not letting me touch him is pretty cruel too.

I give him directions and climb onto his bike behind him, careful to hold the passenger grip for stability and not him. I don’t want to feel the harsh sting of rejection again when he tells me I can’t cling to him the way I used to — like a limpet on a strong, sturdy, and dependable, sexy-as-fuck rock.

I daydream all the way to ’Cinda’s place, where I suffer a swift comedown.

It’s the perfect house, really. The kind I used to imagine living in when I was a girl. I drew it for ’Cinda once, when we were younger, but I didn’t think she’d be the one to live in my dream home, with my dream life. Even the fence was painted the same color.

I was a sucker for a picket fence. A gabled roof, shutters, and warm wooden floors that screamed classy and wholesome. The family I imagined inside it were whole and happy — full of smiles and joy, the way it was meant to be. Oh, the naïvety…

I’ve never been close to having the dream, and I never will, because it’s a delusion. That perfect life doesn’t exist. Can never exist. Because I’m imperfect.

Jason takes off his helmet and looks at the house. “Is this the place?”

When I don’t reply, he turns to me and sighs.

“This is the place.” He grabs my hand and drags me through the little gate in the picket fence and up the path. He puts the cooler in my hand and nudges me toward the door. “Go ahead, then.”

I grip the strap of the cooler bag and stare at the knocker. ’Cinda’s going to scream at me if she sees me. I wanted to sneak the milk to her, not confront her with it. I set it on the stoop by the door and slink away before she can catch sight of me through the window or something.

Jason grabs my arm and keeps me from leaving. He knocks on the door, and I glare at him. I try to shake him off so I can run, but he holds firm, watching me like a hawk.

The door opens, and the second my sister sees me, she screeches foul names and lunges for me.

I cover my head and duck, but Jason catches ’Cinda’s hand before she makes contact. I watch through my hair as he walks her back inside her house.

“No.” It’s all he says before shutting her inside, then he yanks me to my feet and pulls me back toward his bike. He releases my arm and shoves me the last few steps, so I nearly stumble. “On.”

I do as I’m told, and he takes me away from yet another home I’m not welcome in.

He takes me to his house, parks his bike in the garage, and makes me sit on the front stoop while he paces in front of me.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

When he finally stops, my stomach is twisted in knots.

“What did you do?” he asks. “Feed her baby with your tits without asking?”

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