Slut Read online

  I had to tell her to hold my hips for balance when she fell over a little. She held on with one hand, like she was afraid to touch me, but that was okay, I needed her other hand.

  “Play with your pussy, slut.”

  I didn’t know whether she was wet or not, I didn’t really care. Watching her slide her fingers between her legs was enough for me. I stroked my cock harder while lifting myself a little, letting my nuts fall over her lips. I had to direct her to suck on them, but she did it. The slut did everything. I had a diamond in the rough, and I was keeping it. I jerked hard on my cock, knocking her off her feet when I felt it coming, right to her ass.

  “Oh, fuck, baby. Keep your legs open,” I ordered while pumping hard with my fist. I stood right above her, shooting my load to her face, bathing her in my come. It was so fucking hot, and I was nowhere near being done. My cock wasn’t either. It never shrank, not one bit. Hell, it was still hard as a rock from excitement. I squeezed the last bit into my hand and knelt to her pussy, massaging it up her slit. I swear my cock twitched right toward it, wanting in.

  “Turn around and get on your hands and knees,” I said, looking down to her come coated face, adrenaline pumping wildly through my veins. I was never letting this cunt out of my life. Never.

  Gabriella did as I told her, only I made her lay her face first on the floor and stick her ass up for me to look at. I fucked with her for a while like that, sticking a finger in her pussy every now and then while I walked around her, jerking my cock to stay hard in my hand, and slapped her ass. I opened her and spit down the pucker in her ass, watching it run down her cunt, and over her clit. I did that a few times, just because I could, and because it reminded her of what she was. A slut. I used a couple well-rounded utensils on her from the kitchen, fucking her tight little pussy with the handle of a cold metal spoon, and spanking her ass. It was fucking amazing, and she let me. Not once did she protest. Not once. That may have been the reasoning behind my actions, the excuse I told myself to make it okay.

  I finally fucked her, thinking about planting my seed inside her womb, making her mine, probably a decision I should have slept on, revisited in the morning. I didn’t. I fucked her in every possible position I could put her in, and then I came hard, making sure I was deep inside her pussy, leaving my manhood behind. She never did come, but I didn’t really give a fuck. I liked that about her. No emotion. Just what I wanted, what I’d been looking for my entire life, and it was so easy. Gabriella Delgardo never had a chance.

  I held myself inside her, slowly pulling out as I softened, feeling the effects of my friend Jack. I needed to pass out, and Rowan needed to sleep in. I slid out, tapped her asshole with the head of my cock, squeezing the last drip to her sphincter, and stood. I slid into my jeans, and stretched my back with an arch and a grunt, “Get the fuck out of here. Oh, wait. I promised you could tell me something. What’d you do, blow the breaker down there again?”

  “No.”

  “Then what? Spit it out. I have an eight-month-old that will be up in about five more hours, if I’m lucky. What?”

  “I’m going to have a baby.”

  That knocked the wind right out of my lungs. That wasn’t at all what I expected to hear. Not even close.

  “What?”

  One

  A slut born out of masculine persuasion. That’s what I thought about while I sat in the dark; a jail-cell the size of my bathroom. The noise just down the hall stirred my roommate, a young girl covered in tattoos. She moaned in her sleep and rolled to her side, sleeping off a drunken night. Indecent exposure and disorderly conduct; I wanted that charge.

  My lungs filled with an unfamiliar odor as I contemplated the mess I had gotten myself into. I shouldn’t have gotten close to him, the man whose so-called success, confidence, and sex appeal turned me inside out. But I did, I got close, I lost control and I stumbled—straight into the pits of hell. I was on my way to prison, and my mind thought about how I’d fallen in love with my husband, wondering what to do, where to go, and who to turn to. I didn’t really have anyone. Not anyone that I would have trusted.

  My body finally collapsed to the springy mattress, dead with exhaustion, sometime early in the morning. Plastic crunched below me and my eyes closed as I held back tears once again. I heard so many different legal ramifications about things I didn’t understand that day, it was crazy. All of it had my mind in worse shape than it already was. The two-hour interrogation left my throat sore from all the yelling and crying. I pled my case with tears streaming down my face, with loud screams, and faint whimpers. The case that I had no idea how to get out of. I was being accused of impersonating my twin, possible murder without a body, and fraud over the hospital bills. I couldn’t even wrap that one around my head. Who in their right mind would go through what I had to screw an insurance company? Absurd.

  Sleep never came. Maybe for a few minutes here and there, but that’s about it. I even tried a chant I didn’t remember my mother teaching me, but somehow, knew that she did. I am at peace. I am at peace. I am at peace.

  The smell of must saturated my nostrils as I relaxed with the soothing voice in my head. Unfortunately, my mind was far from a meditative state. It wandered to how many people had slept on the same bed, probably thousands. Saliva pooled in my mouth and my stomach felt nauseous, the stench was too strong to ignore. The unfortunate smell hit me again a few hours later, maybe three, but not much more.

  I woke to a bright light and unfamiliar sounds, commotion of a brand new day.

  “Delgardo, Let’s go.”

  The unpleasant odor instantly vanished when I sat up, shocked and confused.

  “Go where?” I questioned with a frown, swallowing the apprehension with the dry lump.

  The cocky female cop grimaced and looked at me like I had just asked for her gun. “Does it really matter? Get out of here. I want to go home.”

  No problem. I followed the female officer out, wearing a frown, wondering what I had woken up to, or who.

  What the… I watched him look over his shoulder, cautiously while he scribbled a signature across the bottom of a paper.

  “Lane?”

  Lane thanked the clerk behind the counter and looked at me with his stress filled eyes and a fake smile.

  “How are you?”

  “Don’t you mean who are you?”

  “I know who you are. Sign your name so we can get the hell out of here.” The genuine smile that he sent my way did little to calm my nerves.

  “What name?” That’s a question you don’t ever think about asking. I had no idea what to write.

  “Just scribble it. Don’t even worry about that right now,” Lane ordered while pointing to the X, and then three more. The same grouchy police officer gave me my orders and told me not to skip town. I only half listened. My finger glided across words I didn’t understand. I had to be evaluated by a psychiatric physician, and I had to sign for the release of my medical records. Those were the only words I read from all three pages. I could have been signing my life away and I wouldn’t have known it.

  “Greggory Richfield is going to meet us in my office before court. He’s the best you’re going to find this side of Florida.”

  I dropped the pen and frowned. “I’m going to court?”

  His hand landed on the small of my back and he directed me out, ushering me toward the door. “No, not you. He’s got court.”

  I pretended to trip, feeling uneasy about his hand on my back. He dropped it nonchalantly, missing my conniving stumble to get his hands off of me. As crazy as it sounded in my head, I was afraid of Paxton seeing him. He would flip.

  “Where’s your office? You’re a doctor, right?”

  Lane opened the door to Candace’s car and I got the same weird vibe about being in her car. The look on Lane’s face told me I already knew that. “You’re asking about my job right now?”

  I blew out a puff of air, thinking about how silly it was and faked a smile. “My mind’s in an odd pl
ace.”

  “I’m sure it is. We’re going to figure this out. Don’t worry.”

  I watched Lane close the door and walk in front of his car. Candace’s car. Weariness blanketed his face, it showed in the way he walked, his demeanor stiff, yet cautious.

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you involving yourself in this mess? I don’t think Candace would approve. She thinks we’re having an affair. Are we, Lane? I mean, did we?”

  My eyes drifted to my lap with the heavy sigh, waiting to hear what I already knew.

  “It wasn’t like that, Gabby.”

  “So we never slept together? I’m so confused right now.”

  “I know, I know. Let’s take one step at a time. Jesus Christ, Gabby. This is like a Lifetime movie.”

  I laughed, I guess trying to make light of things. “You hate Lifetime.”

  “No, I hate that stupid DIY crap you watch.”

  Lane never even caught it, what I had just said, but I did. Jesus, why couldn’t I just remember? “How do I know that, Lane? Oh, my God. Why do I know you hate Lifetime?”

  Lane never answered with words, only a deep exhale. I didn’t ever bother with trying to get an explanation. I had deeper holes to fill, taking precedence over why I knew Lane hated Lifetime.

  I focused on the Walkers instead. “I need to get a hold of someone. They raised my sister.”

  “The Walkers? From Michigan?”

  “Yes,” I said in a guarded tone, wondering how he knew that. My mysterious life kept getting better and better in a sarcastic sort of way. Karma hated me. “How do you know about that? About them?”

  “You told me, Gabby. I know everything about you.”

  “Why?”

  Silence filled the air except for a deep breath that I heard Lane take in from his nose. “I feel obligated.”

  “I don’t even know what that means, Lane.”

  “I know. I can’t imagine what this is like for you. To have your entire memory erased like that.”

  “But you believe me? Oh my, God. What if it’s true? What if I am this horrible person that killed Izzy or Gabby? What if I murdered my sister?”

  “Stop it. You didn’t kill Izzy. You’re not Izzy. I mean you are because you traded her places, but that was out of love. That’s the kind of person you are, Gabby. I don’t know a more benevolent person than you. You didn’t kill anyone. Not on purpose.”

  My eyebrows were quickly becoming a permanent fixation, twisted and turned inward toward my nose. “I told you about that, but not my husband?”

  “Paxton Pierce is a—I’m sure he never asked you.”

  Another nervous puff of air escaped my lips and I sputtered a laugh. “I’m sure he didn’t either. I just don’t understand why.”

  “It’s probably for the better. Let’s just worry about clearing your name before you end up in prison.”

  I could tell he was half joking, but I still worried. “Could that happen?”

  Lane was horrible at hiding his feelings. I could tell he was worried, I just didn’t know if it was for me or him, or why he would get involved in the first place.

  “No, Gabby. That can’t happen. It’s not going to happen. This will all be over and you’ll be back to your old life before you know it. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about, but I want you to talk to Greg for your own sake. Just in case I’m wrong.”

  I didn’t even try to hide the tone or the look. “That’s exactly what Paxton does, all the time. I have no idea what you just said, but there’s an underlined meaning in there. Something secret. Something you’re hiding, and have no intentions of telling me, right?”

  “No, there’s no hidden message in that. Just the truth. That’s it.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned my attention out the window. He lied. Just like everyone else in my life. He lied.

  “Oh, my God. What about the girls. I need to talk to them, Lane.” That came from nowhere. My mind was on what Lane had said one second, and my kids the next.

  “Yeah, we’ll work on that later, too. Do you have your phone?”

  The ridiculous laugh quickly became a habit. Words could never define the way I felt. I was pretty much screwed. “Do you really think Paxton is going to give me anything? Do you blame him? Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do? He’s never going to believe me.”

  “Do you really care?”

  The look I gave him was taken exactly the way I meant for him to perceive it, annoyed mixed with a little attitude.

  Lane gave me a once over and suggested more craziness. “What? I’m just saying that if you could come out of this somebody else to get away from him, I’d do it.”

  Seriously? Ugh. The sarcastic tone and elevated voice showed my displeasure with his stupid comment. “He’s got my kids!”

  “Calm down, Gabby. Getting yourself all worked up isn’t going to make things better. The only thing you need to worry about is clearing your name right now. He can’t keep you from the girls. Think about it. Ophelia definitely has your DNA. It’ll work out. Just relax, okay?”

  I tried to pinch my headache away with two fingers, squeezing the bridge in my nose, hoping that was true. A few deep breaths helped calm my nerves, but did little for the impending pain right behind my eyes. He was right, Phi was mine, and according to my own intuition, there was no doubt about that. With a simple mouth swab, I could prove that I gave birth to her. Of course the ‘what if it didn’t’ had to surface next and I worried about that.

  Greggory Richfield was in the middle of a phone call, pacing the floor when Lane opened his office door for me. The rather large man ordered someone to dig deeper with a gruff tone, and hung up.

  “Greg Richfield, you’re Isabella?” the man said with an extended hand.

  My hand felt like a baby’s inside of his. “No, I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

  “She’s Gabby. What the hell, Greg? We talked about this.”

  “It’s a name,” he said like it was no big deal, taking a seat in front of Lane’s desk.

  I sat beside him and mostly listened to Greg and Lane go back and forth with each other while I tried to keep up.

  Greg was a tall man, big and burley with a scruffy beard. He didn’t look like a successful attorney at all. He looked like he ate too many cheeseburgers, and could swat planes from the Empire State Building. He was huge, a little sloppy, and he smelled, not in a good way.

  “You can have your partner do the psychiatric evaluation today. The sooner we have that, the better. There’s nothing you remember about the day you wrecked? Did you drop your sister off somewhere? Was she in the accident with you?”

  Lane moved from behind his desk, and came to my rescue. His hand rested on my shoulder, a gesture meant to comfort me. “Dude, I already told you. She doesn’t remember any of that.”

  “I’ve put together bits and pieces from my childhood, but nothing since,” I explained while placing my hand around Lane’s wrist. It felt so natural to touch him, like I’d done it a million times before. Our eyes locked and I released the grip. A quick flinch, unnoticed by Godzilla only. Lane and I both sensed it, the awkward moment proof.

  “I can do the evaluation. Nick is booked the entire day,” Lane said with quick snappy words. Nervous words.

  “You can’t do the evaluation and you know it. We’ll be lucky to get away with your partner doing it.”

  Again, I sat and listened to the banter between the two men. Lane seemed to take my misfortune very serious, but why? Why did he care about me so much?

  Godzilla glanced at his crooked watch and stood, tucking his sloppy shirt to the back of his wrinkled pants. “I’ve got to get to court. Get me the evaluation and the hospital reports, ASAP.”

  Lane walked him out, but I stayed put, my eyes dancing around the room. Wow. Lane was a psychiatrist. I knew he was a doctor from conversations with Candace, but I guess I didn’t ask what kind of doctor. A photo of Chance and Candace wrapped in a silver frame sat on a shelf next t
o a signed baseball, and a rush of guilt ran over me. I was a horrible person, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel. She didn’t deserve that, Chance didn’t deserve that. I arched my sore back, feeling a dull pain in my hip, and sighed. My mouth was dry, I was exhausted, and my body ached. And—I had no idea what movie played in my mind. If I thought the confusion was big before, this tripled in size. That was nothing compared to this.

  “You okay?” Lane asked from my side.

  “Jesus, Lane. What the hell’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but don’t worry about anything. I’m going to put you up in a hotel for a few days. Until we can figure out what’s going to happen to you.”

  “Is it bad?” That was a dumb question. Of course it was bad. I got into a car with my identical twin, and one of us came out absent. Gone like the wind. Vanished without a trace.

  “Don’t worry about it. Greg’s got someone looking into the DNA traits of identical twins. Hopefully you’ll get off on technicality. If not, Nick will deem you incompetent. Defendants can’t be prosecuted if they’re not mentally stable. You’re not. You don’t even know who the hell you are. Fuck, Gabby. This is so screwed up. You should have left before the storm. You never freaking listen. You should have left, Gabby.”

  Whoa! My head spun even more with folly. Lane’s tone was stressed, and I didn’t know why. “Left to go where, Lane?”

  “Costa Rica.”

  A sharp pain shot down my neck when my head snapped to the door. Fear engulfing my veins with anxious adrenaline. I don’t know who I thought the loud knock was, but it frightened me to the core. Candace? Paxton? The cops?

  “Calm down. He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s just Nick.”

  I defended my husband like he was the King of England, a sassy tone with a matching attitude. “I’m not afraid of Paxton hurting me.”

  Lane opened the door, wearing a strained expression. The way his lips pouted and the quick puff of air made him seem condescending. Like Paxton.

  “Yeah, sure you’re not.”

  “I’ve got an open thirty minutes. That’s it. And I’m eating my lunch while I talk to her.”