Brutally Beautiful(24)

Her brows knitted together as she stood in front of me, handing me a full glass of the blood-red wine. I tried to imagine it splattering across her face, trying to think of the words that I could twist onto a clean crisp white paper, words that would slice the life from those eyes, but I could think of none. None.

This bitch was giving me writer’s block.

The man who pawed her ass held out his hand to me and smiled. “So, you’re Dylan’s infamous brother? Glad to finally meet you, I’m Fran,” he said, shaking my hand weakly.

The only thoughts in my mind were at that very moment were first, that hand was just touching Lainey’s ass, second, what the f*ck kind of name was Fran? And third, his f*cking hand was just touching Lainey’s ass. I squeezed his hand more than I should have. He grimaced.

“Fran?” I asked, curious to the femininity of the name and why a parent would hate their child so heinously that they would name him that.

“Short for Francis,” Lainey uttered, a little above a whisper.

“Ah,” I chuckled darkly, “that makes it so much better.”

She rolled her eyes at me. Fuck, it was as if I was in high school again. No, high school was bloodier. Francis smiled then, a full mouth of white shiny teeth and I wanted to knock each and every last bright ivory enamel-coated structure out, maybe the whole damn jaw too. That would be a great scene; my fingers began curling into tight hard fists.

My brother strutted in then. Man of the hour. Wearing thirty like it was some sort of trophy he competed for and won. His eyebrows shot straight up, as if he was actually shocked to see me. I guess he might very well have been, since I had only seen him a handful of times in the last few years.

“You actually came?” he asked, stunned.

“Nope. Not here at all,” I replied, a bit too harshly. Dealing with people wasn’t my thing. “Happy birthday.”

A blonde woman, whom I recognized as the other waitress, and could only assume was my brother’s new girlfriend, Bree, bounced out from the back of the trailer and she and Lainey pushed us to sit as they placed food on the small table. Morgan didn’t help, I noticed. She sat herself down next to me, tall and regal, waiting to be served. For some reason, that messed with my head. I wanted it the other way around, with Morgan serving Lainey, and that messed with my head even more. I drank my wine in one enormous gulp, almost embarrassingly vomiting it right back up. When Morgan’s French manicured hand reached down into my lap and cupped my balls, I pushed away from the table to get the bottle of wine I had left on the counter. I was going to need a few more bottles to get through the night.

Lainey was standing next to the tiny sink holding a steaming bowl of something. My mind tried to make it a bowl of wiggling maggots, but all I saw was fluffy delicate curls of pasta. Her eyes traveled over me and landed on mine. One beautiful soft eyebrow arched up at me questioningly.

“So, Francine seems sweet,” I said. I was incapable of having a healthy normal conversation, wasn’t I? I wanted to goad her, and to bicker and fight with her. I wanted to get her angry and outraged. To offend her so harshly that her beautiful sweet features would show some sort of f*cking expression other than the complete control that I lacked.

Her eyes remained soft and delicate. Fuck, was that pity? Was that f*cking pity she was looking at me with? “I wouldn’t know, Mr. Grayson. I haven’t tasted him yet. However, if I do get the pleasure of that, I will let you know how sweet it is.”

I wanted her to be one of those characters I killed off in the first Chapter; the stupid innocent beauty that follows the clichéd killer down his rabbit hole. I held the scene in my head for a mere second, before it blurred and changed into me bending her over my knee and spanking her bare creamy ass until she was pink and wet.