Sparrow(42)

“Forget about her,” she purred. “She’ll never be yours.”

“Bitch.”

I flipped the hem of her dress up and ripped her panties in one sharp movement, leaving a red trail of on her skin. Her ass was round and golden brown, perfect, unlike Sparrow’s small and white one. But I still closed my eyes, and for whatever f*cked-up reason, pretended that this was my wife as I unzipped.

I rode Cat from behind, my balls slapping against her ass, like I was spanking the venom out of this vile woman. Soon enough, devil woman started moaning as loud as she possibly could, no doubt to make sure Sparrow would hear if she walked in downstairs. I balled her ripped panties in my fist and shoved them in her mouth to muffle the sound of her whimpering my name.

“Tr-ror-roy…” Her voice was garbled, and she spat the underwear from her mouth, which only made me more furious. “Troy...”

Thrust.

“Shut up,” I ordered. Her voice made me remember it wasn’t my wife I was having sex with. Hell, with each sound she made, my dick softened a little. She wasn’t who I wanted to f*ck, and that was oddly disappointing.

“Oh my God, I love you baby, I love you.”

Thrust.

“Shut. The hell. Up.”

I felt her legs shaking against mine as I pumped harder into her. Catalina was molded between my body and the wall, banging her head against it in frustration and pleasure, and that was my cue to pull out, still half hard, still thinking of Red for some crazy reason.

I didn’t come, and knew it would be pointless to try. She wasn’t Sparrow. Didn’t feel like her, didn’t taste like her, didn’t move like her.

Cat barely had time to turn around and face me before I zipped up. I threw the stained dress she gave Red earlier that week in her direction.

"Get the f*ck out of my place and never come here again," I ordered. “We’re done.”

I always told her we were through. Every week. Yet somehow, we always ended up rolling on her bed. And carpet, floor, Jacuzzi and even on her lush, neatly cut lawn. But it was always at her house. She was never allowed, not physically and certainly not mentally, into my kingdom. This was a breach. And yet another goddamned excuse to finish what I wanted nothing to do with anymore. Her.

She caught the dress mid-air and examined it, shocked. Tugging at the stained fabric, she let out a grunt. "The little witch ruined my dress."

Pulling the suitcase from the bed and resting it on the floor, I stifled a sarcastic laugh. I reached for my back pocket and yanked out my wallet, plucking a wad of cash and throwing it in her general direction. "It was your brilliant idea to send my wife your dress. Ever heard of the dry cleaners? Time to use ’em.”

"Dry clean what? It's a mess! Can't you see?" She waved the dress in the air. “I can’t believe the little skank!”

I walked right past her, and when I reached the open door, I nodded for her to get out. Catalina huffed and marched out of the room, a sulky expression on her face. She stomped down the curved staircase, deliberately stabbing her pointy heels into the wooden treads. At the bottom she spun back to face me, but I stopped before the bottom step, towering one stair and several more inches over her.

"You're an *." She shoved a long painted fingernail into my chest.

"And this * is done with you."

“Don’t you realize that she doesn't want you? I know exactly why you had to marry little Sparrow, so don’t pretend like it’s a real relationship. She is a girl, and I am a woman. As a woman, I can see what you refuse to register into that cocky brain of yours. She ain't gonna f*ck you like I do or shut up and just be there for you like I can. Stop betting on the wrong horse." Her voice was spiked with sadness, and with that, she turned around and marched out of the apartment.

I waited to hear the door shutting after her with a loud bang before slamming my fist into the nearest wall. Good riddance.

I walked straight to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and poured myself a drink. Maria stepped out of one of the guestroom and gave me the stink eye. She knew more than I felt comfortable with about my relationship with her daughter. Then again, no one forced her to work here for me.

Understandably, she wanted Cat to stick with Brock and make it work. Brock, the lovable f*cking golden boy. But the truth of the matter was that Cat loved danger more than she loved cock. She always crawled back to me, no matter how hard I tried to push her away. In all fairness, I never tried too hard. But after this little stunt today, barging into my apartment unannounced, I knew I would have to put her in her place when I got back from Miami.

“You let your daughter in here without my permission one more time, and you’re fired.” I took a sip from my glass, my eyes trained on the city view through the wall of windows.

Maria muttered something in Spanish and headed for the kitchen. The sound of glass breaking filled the air. She always had “accidents” around the house every time she was mad at me for screwing Catalina. I paid no attention.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and Connor and Red stormed in. Connor had a fresh bruise on his left cheek, a bleeding nose and murder in his eyes. Red looked flustered too, a furious little thing, trying to shake Connor’s arm off her elbow. My eyes jumped directly to her arm, clasped between his chunky fingers, and he immediately let her loose.