Page 16 of Reckless

“Miss me, Blondie?” I shoved my way inside, closing the door behind me.

“You see, we never did get to finish our conversation.” I watched her eyes narrow before traveling to the now-closed door behind her.

“Have a habit of coming into strangers’ homes unannounced?” she quipped, hands crossing in front of her chest.

“Tsk tsk, little dancer, I wouldn’t exactly call us strangers,” I chided, inching closer, “After all I’ve heard you moan. Tasted your tongue. Felt you shiver under my touch.” Her eyes darkened, lips puckering in annoyance.

I smirked, so easy to rile this one up. Barley inside for a moment, and her feathers were already completely ruffled.

“What do you want?” Carefully, I dodged the half-empty paint jars lining the floor. The place looked like an artist's wet dream on the inside. Paint tubes lining every surface, half-finished and empty canvases taking the place of furniture. If I’d ever imagined the inside of Vaughn's mind, this would be a pretty fucking close depiction.

“You have something of mine I want,” I demanded. My fists opening and closing in impatience.

Her eyes crinkled in confusion,

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Don't play coy with me, Rose Levington.” She stepped back, eyes darting back and forth.

That's right, I know your pathetic little name. I know fucking everything there is to know about you and your train wreck of a life.

“I saw you take it. With my own eyes, I saw you fucking take what is mine.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” she asked, her eyes bright with defiance.

I pounced on her then, patience being one of many virtues on my shit list, slamming her against the wall.

“Kaleb!” Rose shrieks. And the screaming of my name, paired with her squirming against me caused my dick to harden. Noticing the slightly larger appendage, Rose’s eyes widened in horror. But really what did she expect? I was the monster after all. A sick twisted motherfucker who was too far gone. And to think I was only nineteen and was already thoroughly ruined. I nearly laughed. Youth really was wasted on the young.

“Where is the journal, Rose? Is that specific enough for you? The black leather journal I saw you with on the subway. The journal I saw you clutch with those pink crusted nails of yours.” I breathed the question down her neck, watching as goosebumps appeared across her soft skin.

“You’re - you’re the owner of the Black Mansion.” Look at Blondie connecting the dots. Technically, my asshole of a father was the owner of the brick prison. His dirty signature was scrawled across the deed. But Blondie was on the right track.

“The journal, Blondie, stay focused.”

“I don't have it,” she hissed, nearly spitting in my face.

So feisty today.

“I didn't want to do this but...” My words trailed off as I rubbed my hands up and down her thighs, grabbing a fist full of perfectly pink tights. Noticing my intentions, Rose’s eyes widened.

“Kaleb, don't,” she pleaded.

I yanked.

My fist tore her tights, shredding them beyond recognition.

“You asshole,” she growled, fighting against me for real this time. Pushing and shoving against my chest.

“The journal?” I asked again, my fingers already trailing to her other leg, ready to ruin the remainder of her pretty ballerina ensemble.

“I told you, I don't have it.”

“Wrong answer.” I grab a handful of pink ripping the tights in their entirety.

For a moment, all Rose did was gape at me. Her pouty pink lips pursed.

And then her eyes were on fire.

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