Page 44 of Beautifully Wounded

The phone lights up and starts ringing again, and my heart begins to thrash in my chest with anxious energy.

Ringo said the call was important. He needs to return it soon after. I need to get the message to him that it’s ringing.

Spinning again, I crack the door open again, a little wider this time, and work up the courage to use my voice.

“Brody,” I whisper, and then want to slap myself because, as if anyone would have heard that. I could barely hear my own voice.

FML!

“Brody.” I hiss louder this time, but still, he continues to thrust between the woman’s legs as she makes muling cries.

Ugh. This guy!

“Brody!” I snap louder, and this time I get a grunt of acknowledgement from him. “Get Ringo. The call he’s been waiting for is happening now.”

“Yeah.” Brody pants, pulling back enough so I can see his pleasure-pained expression, but he doesn’t stop, his eyes dropping to watch where their bodies join.

The phone stops ringing again, so I close the door and start pacing.

I don’t know what the urgency is with this call, but Ringo was dead serious about needing to take it, and he was doing me a favour by leaving his phone with me, so I had something to do.

I feel bad now for that. If he didn’t have to worry about my bitching about being bored, he’d have his phone and he would have taken the call by now.

Normally, people would be patient and just wait for them to call, but what if it’s his mum? He said she was sick. What if something has happened? Or what if it’s a crime lord, and the call was part of some sort of deal they made that will fall through if he doesn’t take the call?

What if… My thoughts trail off as the phone starts ringing again.

Hurrying to the door again, I crack it open and snap louder. “Brody, stop doing that and get Ringo now.”

“Who’s in Ringo’s room?” the girl asks, trying to pry her head from the brick wall to look in my direction, but Brody’s hand wraps around her throat, baring his teeth as he thrusts harder and faster.

“Focus on fucking me like a good whore.”

His words stir my memories again. The urge to scream at him for saying such crude things to the woman who is giving herself to him is almost too hard to resist, yet I do.

He’s not going to stop what he’s doing until he’s satisfied, and like Ringo said, she is consenting, although I have no idea why a woman would let a man speak to her like that.

Hot tears pool in my eyes as I close the door again and stare at the phone as it rings a few more times before stopping.

What do I do?

Moving to the window, I take stock of the situation out there.

Everyone is busy. The sex scene I was watching before has grown with more women and men now partaking, all preoccupied.

I still can’t see Ringo, though.

Once again, the damn phone starts ringing, so I decide I must make an executive decision.

I need to find Ringo myself.

Moving to the bathroom, I check over myself. I’m wearing black leggings and Ringo’s huge black hoodie. It’s like a dress on me, and even though it’s too hot for these clothes, they bring me a sense of comfort.

My hair is still in braids, so I lift the hood and tug on the cords, drawing the hood tighter around my face a little before slipping on my runners.

“You can do this,” I tell my reflection, before spinning and snatching up the phone again.

At the door, I open it a little wider to see Brody has changed position. The girl now bent over a chair by the door, facing the other direction as he pounds into her from behind.

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