Page 10 of Rushed

Keenan

Feeling slightly used, like a discarded condom, I decide to change my train of thought. Moving on from Rush to other things in the club, I decide to hit the bathroom to freshen up. I’m sure I smell like sex and…actually, everything in here smells like sex, so why bother? Instead, I head for the bar to replace my drink. I have a feeling I’m gonna need more than one tonight.

Off to the right there’s a packed bar, where I’m sure it’s gonna be a tits out war to get to the front. With the usual clientele—a dick here, a bitch there, and guys vying for the bartender’s attention—I approach, squeezing between a few muscle heads. As they move out of the way, allowing me access to the counter, I figure it’s just so they can get a better view of my ass. But who am I to judge? Maybe they’re all gay.

“What can I get you, goodie?” A very curvaceous, fake boobed, plastic faced doll asks from behind the bar. She’s pretty, but totally a creation of the knife.

“JD with a slice of lime, on the rocks.”

“Comin’ up.” Grabbing the bottle off the rack, she sloshes a measured shot into a glass, adds ice and lime, then passes it across the counter. “Twelve-fifty.”

I nearly choke, but as I hand her the cash and turn to leave, I hear, “You up for the night of your life, sweet cheeks?” I can smell the whiskey seeping out of his pores, mingling with the scent of sweat as I’m caged in against the bar. Gross.

“Sorry, I’m not. Thanks, though.” I push his arm off the bar rail and move to the side, trying to get away, but he cages me again.

“Oh, come on. I’m sure you didn’t come here as a voyeur. You’re a doer, not a thinker. And I bet with that tight ass, you like it rough.” He strokes my face like Rush did across my jaw, but this guy gives me the fucking creeps.

“Buddy, I'm sure there's a girl here that can rock your world, but I’m not your kind. I like my guys showered—and sober.” Being sarcastic and rude was probably a bad move, as this guy looks about ready to lose his shit.

“You’re not a smart one, are you?” Grasping the top of my dress and snapping the straps, he yanks me forward. “I could rip you to shreds, and I’d do it right in the middle of the pit with everyone watching. I bet you’ve never been fucked in the ass.” He pinches my tit, hard, and I squeak. I won’t give him the satisfaction he’s searching for, so I stay silent and wait him out. Speaking close, his breath is acrid and disgusting. “I bet you’ve never been gangbanged, and never had a man with a real cock before. I’ll give you what you need.”

I try sidestepping out of his grip, but he holds me immobile. Well, enough that if I want to wear something out of here, I can’t really argue his grip. Reaching out with his other arm, tightening on my arm forcefully, I grimace and hold in the tears as the pain radiates through to the bone.

I won’t let this asshole see me cry. Even though I’m seething with anger, I’ve found lately that anger makes me cry like a baby.

Wrenching me forward, and without invitation, I unwillingly have his mouth on mine. He tastes like what I’d expect the dark, seedy underworld to be—evil and rancid. Attempting to stick his disgusting tongue down my throat, I bite down hard on his lip, then throw my almost fifteen-dollar drink at him.

Stomping on his runners with my heel as hard as I can, I almost break the cheap shoe. His alcohol fueled mind is stunned at first, not only because I don’t want him, but that I attacked instead of accepting his offer. He’s a rapist in runners.Fucker.

I smile, knowing it’s a small battle won as I spit blood in his ugly face. Big boy smacks me hard, rattling my teeth against each other and sinking my lip through the gap at the front. I know I’ll probably have a massive split lip, but the pain is all I can concentrate on right now. As his arm flies back to backhand me again, I cringe, bending towards the bar. I’m surprised that I don’t feel the strike, so I peek out from behind my lashes. His arm is held suspended in midair, and he looks pissed. Turning his attention to the cause of his traction, he sneers at the culprit. Looming like a maelstrom of pain are three bouncers, one of which has the ‘don’t mess with me’shit written all over his features, with big boy’s arm in his hand.

“Not the place for this, Mick. How’d ya get in here, huh? Scratch that, it doesn’t matter. I’d suggest ya make a run for the door, forgettin’ you ever came in here.” Bouncer one takes big boy’s arm, swinging it behind his back. Hog tying him up, he continues, “Yawon’tbe back. Understand me?”

That’s when Mick surprises not only me, but the behemoth bouncer. He wrestles his arm away easily and preps his stance for a fight, grinning like crazy.

“If I’m out, I might as well make it fun.” His grin is leery, sick, and dangerous.

Stepping back, as close as I can to the bar, I’m almost sitting on it. I know that shit’s about to go down, and I want out of the way. I’m still caged in against the bar by the six steroid rich bodies with nowhere safe to go, with a torn dress and a wonky pair of heels, but it’s better than nothing.

Faster than I can blink, Mick roundhouse kicks the nearest bouncer, sending him reeling into a group of scantily clad women. They yell their annoyance as bouncer two steps over his partner. Mick prepares for the next attacker like a trained fighter. The way he bounces on his feet, even drunk, darting glances around the room, it’s clear he’s ready. He’s not fucking around.

Bouncer two positions himself and readies to strike. He gets a few good hits in before Mick knocks a perfect left to the side of his head. Quickly, it ends, and bouncer two is down against the side of a table, out cold.

“Enough!” Everything quiets. Even the din of the club music can’t drown out his menacing tone. Bouncer number three stands back, holding his position as Rush approaches the scene. I have a feeling shit’s about to get real.

My temperature soars. The air freezes, and I feel goosebumps rise as I anticipate further danger. As bouncer one and two—who are now up—stand to the side, with the third awaiting the cue from Rush. Mick rolls his shoulders forward in a gesture of readying to go at it again. His pussy friends, who were watching the fight, are now rushing in as backup. They know he’s about to take another shot at it, and apparently, so does Rush.

Without warning, he’s on Mick like a freight train. Two quick shots to the midsection, one to the chin, and two to the side of his head. He rains down pain on Mick with speed and precision. With a swift knee up to the face, Mick falls hard. He didn’t see it coming, and neither did anyone else.

Hardly breaking a sweat, Rush pats his dark T-shirt straight and gives a nod to his boys, who drag Mick and his friends out the back.

As they leave, he says, “I don’t wanna seeanyof yaagain.” Rush’s voice brokers no argument. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll hightail it with their cocks tucked between their ass cheeks.

The throng of spectators that enjoyed the free fight go back to their debauchery and drink as if nothing is amiss, while I cower in the corner, holding my damaged dress like a blankie.

Pushing past the overturned table and chair to the spot I’ve been huddling in, Rush bends down and scoops me up. “Ya okay, Keenan?”

“Yeah, nothing a bit of cover up and an ice pack won’t fix,” I say, rubbing the sore spot on my arm, while licking the cut on my lip. The look in Rush’s eyes is feral. “It’s not as bad as it looks, you know.” I’m downplaying the pain, because the last thing I want is another scene.

Rush touches the corner of my lip, and comes away with blood. I hiss from his touch. His beautiful eyes are as wide as saucers when he looks from his bloodied finger to my face. The sight of his straining fury is frightening.

“Rush, really. I’m fine.” Trying to defuse the anger that seems to be seething through him, I touch his face.

Smiling weakly, lifting his gaze from mine, he grabs the attention of the girl that looks like a plastic doll behind the bar and ignores my comment. “Cynthia. Ice and a cloth, please.”

“Really, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine. I’ll just go back to the hotel and—”

“No,” he barks. Now it’s me who’s wide-eyed. I didn’t expect the crass command. Pulling back his tone, he says softly, “Ya willnotgo back to yer hotel to lick your wounds alone. Ya came out fer a good night, and a feckin’ prick messed the adventure up. Yer not hidin’. No way.” He draws in a big breath and eases it out slowly before he smiles at me. His accent is so thick when he’s pissed that my panties immediately moisten from the tone. Damn. Fucking sexy, I tell ya.

“Now sit there while Cyn gets ya a pack for yer face. After, ya’ll follow me like a good girl to my office. Understood?” His posture leaves no room for argument, so I nod that I’ll do as I’m told.

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