Page 58 of Crazy In Love
“Climb off.” Surprising us both, I lift her off my cock and destroy a moment that could almost be considered beautiful, then setting her on her knees on the floor, I move around behind her and shove the coffee table back to give myself room. Finally, I fold her over the cushions and fist her hair in my right hand. “I like hurting you.” I slam inside her pussy and crush her face to the couch to muffle her scream. “I like making you cry.”
“Chris—”
“I like taking your power and keeping it all for myself.”
ROUND FIFTEEN
FOX
Plainview, in total, is about as big as a dozen New York City blocks, and most of the town itself is huddled within a three-block radius—the grocery store, library, police station, hospital, and Franky’s school—all just minutes from each other. So although I have a car to use, I find walking from one destination to the next and enjoying the spring weather makes living here just a little more tolerable.
Snow stuck to the ground—according to Alana—all winter long. Several feet deep and heavy enough to make the old roofs creak. But spring is in full swing, and with it, beautiful flowerbeds and lush green grass.
I suppose, if Imustacknowledge anything positive about this town, it would be that spring makes for a stunning backdrop, and waking on the lake, enjoying a coffee on the porch with fuzzy socks wrapped around my feet to keep them warm makes for a good way to start a day.
Those Watkins brothers knewexactlywhat they were doing when they graduated from boys to men, buying up all the good real estate before anyone else thought to slide in and take it.
Now that it’s Monday, life restarts despite the woman still recovering in her hospital bed. Chris woke at stupid o’clock this morning, escaping Tommy’s house before the sun truly came up, and went about his routine of tiring himself out before hisactualjob of working out begins. Franky whined about school and how he shouldn’t have to go—because he wants to see Hazel—and I… well, I have a bookstore to manage, and I have to do itknowing I didn’t listen the way I should have when Franky was teaching me the ropes.
But none of that really matters right now, because I doubt Mondays are particularly busy in the book world. I walk Franky to school and leave his pouty-butt behind with a smirk plastered across my lips and a skip to my steps, and wandering Main Street, I discoverthe bakeryby following my nose.
Curious and desperate to taste the coffee that corresponds to the delicious scent of roasting beans traveling along the street, I step inside, only to smack my toes on the tiny lift in the tiles only a local would know about. I hiss and hold my breath, gritting my teeth and counting through the twenty seconds of pain that ricochets throughout my foot. Tears well in my eyes, and when I bring my gaze up, I find a bakery bustling with chaos.
And unfortunately for me, thirty stares pointed back at me.
Customers place their orders, some line up for service, and others sip their coffees. They gossip and smirk, whisper, and blatantly talk about me like I’m not here. Pastries exchange hands, and to-go cups are filled, and though my foot aches, I shake the pain away, determined to join the end of the long line that moves surprisingly fast. And though my heart pounds, I lift my chin and pretend that I don’t care about the small-minded idiots who refuse to stand too near.
Do I have leprosy or something? Fuck.
I wait patiently and move closer to the front counter, and when it’s my turn to be served, I smile at the attendant and note her youthful face.She can’t be more than a teen, surely. “I’ll have whatever that garlicky-smelling pastry is, please. And a cup of coffee.”
“Sure thing. You’re Fox Tatum, right? Alana’s friend.”
“I am.” I cock my hip and rest against the stainless-steel counter. “People usually say it like ‘you’re that Fox Tatum, aren’t ya? From New York.’” I add a nasally drone to my voice. “‘We don’t like you, ‘cos you’re not from ‘round here.’”
She snickers, bagging my breakfast with a fast flip of her wrists. “People around here can get a little funny about city folks.” She sets my pastry on the counter and slides across to begin steaming milk at the industrial-sized machine. “I’m not eighty-seven years old, though. And I’dkillto live in New York. There’s a saying about attracting flies with honey, no?”
“How old are you?” I snag my breakfast and tear off a little of the garlicky bread. “High school, right?”
“I’m in tenth grade.” Her eyes swing to the clock above the door, her cheeks warming because webothknow she’s late. “I have a study period firstthing on Mondays, so I stay here a little longer and help my mom and dad. I’ll walk to school soon.”
“What do you want to do when you get to New York?” Screw anyone still waiting to be served; this kid might become my only friend inside this town other than Alana, so I settle in and nibble while she works. “Will you go to college?”
“I wouldloveto get into the Fashion Institute so I can design clothes.”
“For the runways?” I take another look at her outfit, all but hidden behind a flour-covered apron, and find cute black cargo pants with silver chains hanging from her pockets and buttons pressed along the legs. She wears a chunky belt, almost two inches wide, and a form-fitting black shirt that leaves an inch of her stomach showing and boasts what I think might be a unicorn riding a rainbow right across her chest.
She’s got a rainbow-magic goth look going on. And hell, maybe it’s notmykind of look, but I’ll be damned if it isn’talook.
Like her, it’s cute as hell and makes a statement.
“I think you already have a firm stance on fashion,” I decide, “and you should totally explore that more.”
“My parents don’t like what I wear.” She speaks, not with a disappointed lilt in her voice, but with the clear, concise repetition of facts. Seems she’s accepted their opinion. “They think I should stay here and take over the bakery so they can retire. But I dunno.” She shrugs, switching off the steamer and pouring hot milk into a to-go cup. “I appreciate getting to work here because I’ve been saving my money. But it’s not what I want forever.”
“I understand that.” I tear off a little more pastry and set it on my tongue. “I think everyone should experience life outside their small town at least once.”
She scoffs.Not my parents.
