Page 26 of Karma

“I think you do like it. I heard things about you,” he snarls in my ear, making yet more goosebumps rise on my arms. And more blood fills my already painfully hard cock.

“Yeah, what’s that?” I should be ending this. Not going deeper into this conversation.

“I heard you like the bikers as much as you like the whores,” he says and moves his arm from the back of my neck to wrap it around the front. A python’s got nothing on this guy’s strength and he’s not even showing me all of it yet. It should frighten me not make me want to feel it all.

But those memories that live in the darkest parts of my mind won’t have any of that. Not like this. Not ever. I take the little opening he gave me and twist around. I don’t get far, because he’s like a wall in front of me, just as hard and immovable as theone at my back. I have my knife out, but I’m not using it to free myself yet. No idea why. At least none that I want to admit to myself.

“Oh, yeah, you heard things about me?” I ask. “So you must’ve heard I like to hear big tough motherfuckers like you moan like little bitches when I ride them.”

The derisive scoff tells me what I already knew. No way that’s ever gonna be him. Sorry Karma.

“I’m into the same thing,” he says, his eyes once again burning holes into me.

“Not gonna be me,” I say and finally press my knife against the wall that is his stomach. “Get back.”

I’m pretty sure that’s disappointment in his eyes now. That and a whole lot of anger. But I’m making the right call here.

“You’re not gonna stab me,” he says and actually steps closer, pressing his thigh against my groin. So now he knows just how hard he’s made me. Changes nothing.

“I will cut you,” I promise him.

He looks real deep into my eyes and then nods. “I believe you.”

Then steps back like that’s all it took from the start. Whateverthatwas. I kinda miss his weight against me. The night is much colder without it. Whatever the fuckthatmeans.

“Pity you had to bring a knife to this party,” he says. “I thought we were getting somewhere.”

It’s my turn to scoff. “Right, and where’s that? Rape?”

I should put my knife away, but I don’t trust him not to make another move.

“Nah, I don’t roll that way,” he says. “But I definitely felt a spark in the middle of all that. Didn’t you?”

I shake my head and walk past him to my bike. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to turn my back on him again, but neither is letting him read truths from my eyes. I feel like he can do that.Besides, it would be hard to claim that the way he manhandled me didn’t give my ideas I haven’t had in a very long time. Whatever all that might’ve led to wouldn’t exactly be rape. But I’m not going down that road. Ever.

“So what do I tell Karma?” he asks as I mount my bike.

“Don’t worry about that,” I say and sling my helmet on. “I’ll tell her all she needs to know after I fuck her next.”

There’s that rage he’s been trying to downplay lighting up his eyes again. I’m half expecting him to lunge at me as I rev my bike. But he lets me ride off. And I feel his laser eyes on me even after I’m so far away I can’t even see the bar in my rearview anymore.

He definitely could’ve just beat me to death in that dark parking lot if he wanted to. So maybe he wasn’t lying about the spark. It’s a strangely warming thought. Goes well with my throbbing cock and the goosebumps still tingling right under the surface of my skin.

But being with a man and a woman? Especially when one of them has such a clear love for using his strength on me?

That’s a fucking nightmare I will not be walking into ever again. No matter what. Sorry Karma.

13

Karma

Evening traffic in LA is no joke. It took me over an hour to reach the fancy, picturesque neighborhood where Isabella told me to meet her. There’s nothing even resembling a tattoo parlor here though, not even a bar. Instead, the street is lined with mansions and beautifully kept lawns that remind me so much of the street I fled down in Charleston, it’s a struggle not to floor it out of here and back to the seedy part of town where I’m just another freak and outcast. As much as I want to leave that life, I feel much safer there.

People are walking their dogs and cats, and even a rabbit in one instance, and I feel every eye on me as I pass them. Even the animals are staring at me. Even they know I don’t belong here. Any moment now, someone’s gonna call 911. And then it won’t matter how or where I want to live because I’ll be in prison for the rest of my life.

I spot Isabella standing on the sidewalk up ahead and I hope to God she’s not just a sick figment of my imagination. Sometimes I see what I want to see. Grim complains about that a lot. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone with Scorpio, becauseI’m sure he sees the suggestion I made that the two of them get together as a challenge. And I know he sometimes reacts violently to challenges he doesn’t want to meet. But he wouldn’t hurt someone I care about… and he wouldn’t just murder Joker’s right-hand man either. So I think Scorpio’s safe.

Isabella wasn’t just a mirage. She’s really standing there, her long, dark brown hair cascading down her back. She’s dressed in a pair of leggings, flip-flops, a tank top and an oversized cardigan. In other words, she looks exactly like every other rich bitch walking their pets down this street.

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