Get Off on the Pain, page 1
part #1 of Pain Series
Get Off on the Pain
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Something for the Pain
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Victoria Ashley
Get Off on the Pain
Copyright © 2015 Victoria Ashley
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Designer
Ari at Cover It, Designs
Model, Shawn Dawson
Photographer, FuriousFotog
Edited by
Charisse Spiers
Interior Design and Formatting by
Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
I TAKE A DEEP BREATH and force a smile when I spot Jack leaning against his old beat up truck. It’s the same one he had when I last saw him six years ago, only it looks as if he’s had a little work done on it. He stands up straight and grins when he notices me walking toward him. I can’t help but to notice how much he’s aged. It’s a harsh reminder of how much I have missed over the years, by being in this fucked up hell.
“Good to see you, boy.” Jack reaches out and gives me a quick hug before squeezing my shoulder. “I guess I can’t call you boy anymore. You’ve packed on a lot of solid muscle in there. You look good, son.” He looks me over, taking me in, before looking behind me at the State Prison sign and frowning. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Without saying a word; I nod my head and jump into the passenger side, lost in my own messed up thoughts. It’s been a long time since I have tasted freedom and the feeling is overwhelming. A part of me feels free, while the other part feels like a prisoner at heart. I know that I should feel happy. I should feel something right now, but I don’t. A part of me died behind those walls and the other part isn’t sure how to go on living. I no longer know how to live in a society among normal people.
I clench my jaw and look out the window. “Let’s go,” I say rigidly.
It’s silent for the first hour before Jack glimpses my way; all while still trying keep his eyes on the road. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did, Memphis. I wish I knew what else to say, but I don’t. Things will be good now. They’ll be better.”
I look at Jack and take in his graying hair and crooked nose. He was the only adult I had on my side when things were so fucked up that I just wanted to give up; the one and only. This man has the biggest heart of anyone that I know. My mother always said the same about him.
“Thanks, Jack. Mind if I stay in your guesthouse this week?” He glances over at me and shakes his head in answer to my question. “I just need a little time before I go back home. I need to gather my thoughts and shit before I see Alex.”
“Take all the time you need. You can work with my construction crew to help you get back on your feet. You’re strong, Memphis. Things will work out. Alex needs you and if I remember correctly, you never give up.”
“Yeah. That hasn’t changed, Jack.”
Fuck . . . I need to be strong.
LYDIA LOOKS UP FROM HER position on the floor, slowly running her tongue over her already moistened lips while pulling my boxer briefs down. “I’m going to have fun with this,” she whispers. Her eyes widen as my erection springs free from the black material. She almost looks nervous, now that she has seen her challenge.
“Face the other way,” I demand. Without question, she spins around on her knees so that her back is facing me and sits up straight. Tangling my hand in her long, red hair, I yank her head back and rub my dick across her lips. “I want you to take it deep. Okay, Lydia?”
She nods her head in understanding. Good. She needs to know I fuck for physical feeling and nothing more.
“This is all that will happen between us. I’m leaving next week and I don’t want any attachments. I can’t handle that shit right now. Is that understood?”
Answering my question, she tilts her head back as far as it will go and swirls her tongue around the head of my dick. “Yes.” Her voice comes out desperate and full of need as she looks up to meet my eyes.
“Good,” I say stiffly.
Closing my eyes, I moan as she bends back and takes my cock into her mouth, slowly inching her way up until she’s deep throating. She chokes a little at first, but quickly recovers when I rub her throat, relaxing it as I bend her back as far as she can go.
Fuck me. She is flexible.
I can see my thickness in her throat each time it expands and I have to admit that I’m impressed with her abilities. I’ve known Lydia for over ten years—as long as I’ve known Jack—and I would’ve never expected this out of her. She was always the sweet, innocent girl next door. Well, now she is all grown and apparently a pro at oral pleasure.
I’m not going to lie . . . after six years I need this shit. The next thing I need is to find Alex and get us both the hell out of Crooked Creek before he ends up like me, or worse . . . dead.
One week later . . .
CLAMPING THE FORCEPS ONTO THE side of the Bailey’s lip I remind her to take a slow, deep breath before I push the needle through the skin and then quickly replace it with the stud. She barely even flinches as I screw the ball on the end of the metal, and I have to admit I am proud of her. I expected her to cry since she can be so damn sensitive.
She lets out a relieved breath and smiles over at her boyfriend Landen as I dab the blood off her lip and go over the same aftercare instructions I repeat twenty plus times a day. It never gets old. Okay, so I lied. It’s old as shit.
“You sexy bitch,” I say with a smirk, happy that after all that convincing—I was right. Tossing my gloves into the trash, I reach beside me for the mirror and hold it up for her, so that she can see for herself. It looks hot, sitting just below her plump bottom lip. I told her that it would and I have spent the last six months trying to convince her of that. “Perfect placement. Perfect piercer. What did I say? No worries.”
Leaning up, Bailey looks into the mirror and reaches up to touch her lip, but I slap her hand away and growl, reminding her of our earlier discussion. “Ouch! Crap, I forgot! I knew I would still try to do that.” She focuses on her reflection in the mirror and lets out a satisfied squeak while checking out her lip at different angles. “I love it! Wow. I was a bit worried I wouldn’t look good with one, but I have to admit, I look hot. You were right, Lyric. I’ll give you this one.”
“No shit,” I say sarcastically. “Next time you should listen to me sooner.”
“This time,” she points out quickly. “I wouldn’t be so proud about being right for the first time like ever.”
“I’ll take it when I can get it; especially when it’s with you.” I give Landen a little shove toward the door before ushering Bailey to follow. “Now get the hell out of here so I can too. It’s late.”
Bailey stands up to follow Landen to the door, but stops before walking out. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pay? I don’t want it to look like I expect things for free since I know you.”
I grab the cleaning bottle, spray it on my chair, and then toss the empty bottle aside as a reminder to fill it back up later. “Dammit, Bailey, for the twentieth time . . . no. Don’t make me say it one more time.”
Landen flexes his jaw in annoyance and pulls out a cigarette, placing it behind his ear. “Yeah, don’t offer to pay for that shit, Bailey.” Lifting an eyebrow, he pulls her up against his body and bites her neck before pulling away and groping her ass. “Let’s get out of here and let Lyric deal with that shit. She offered, so it’s not on you.”
Sometimes I feel like shoving my foot down his big throat. He’s lucky Bailey loves him so much or I would do it. No joke. “I should make your ass pay just for being a jerk, Landen, and for snatching up my leftover pizza last night after I told you both to save it for me for after work.” I say this next part to have a little fun with him and to maybe piss him off. Just a little. “Oh and by the way . . . no blowjobs for at least six weeks. It could cause an infection and no one wants that shit, right? So enjoy.” I smile big, enjoying my own humor.
“Oh hell no. Take that lip ring out, Bail
ey. You can do without it.” He reaches for Bailey’s lip as she slaps him away and shakes her head from side to side. “Take it out.”
I point to the exit door. “Buh bye.” I turn to Bailey and wink at her, causing her to laugh and follow him out into the parlor, yelling at him, and telling him the piercing stays. Let him choke on that for a bit. It’ll give her something to have fun with. He deserves to get knocked down a few notches once in a while.
A few seconds after I hear the door close Styles pops his head into my room, crosses his arms, and shakes his head in amusement.
“What?” I ask with a smirk.
He follows me out into the parlor. “That’s some fucked up shit. Do you know what that does to a man? Six weeks. That hurts.”
Styles is the owner here at Ravage Tattoos and hired me on the spot when I walked through that door four years ago looking for a job. That instantly put him on my good side when moving here to Crooked Creek.
I shrug my shoulders and grab for my thin, leather jacket, slipping it on. “He did it to himself.” I turn to face him and smile when he does. “Most men do, Styles. Trust me. When you guys stop acting like assholes, then I’ll stop making your lives hell.”
Styles bites his bottom lip and walks behind the display, looking for something. “Hot and sassy. I swear the more your sexy mouth runs, the more I want you. I like my women feisty.” He looks back up at me while slamming a folder onto the counter. “And for the record—I’ll never stop being an asshole. I’m a guy, plain and simple, and women love assholes.”
I point at him and start backing away to the door. “I’ll remember that for when I lose all standards.” I push the door open and wave a dismissive hand at him. “Later, Styles.”
He leans over the display and runs a hand through his dark curls. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? I’m about done here.”
“Nope. I walked because I wanted fresh air and a little alone time. If you give me a ride that will defeat the whole purpose. Plus, I don’t want to listen to your horny panting as you secretly check out my tits. I’m good.”
“Alright, but you’re missing out.” His eyes scan me up and down before he looks back down at whatever it is he’s doing and shrugs. “Just double checking.”
“You mean triple checking, Styles?” I quip. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
Before he has a chance to speak I rush out the door to escape any more failed attempts from Styles at trying to pick me up. A smile crosses my face as the cool air hits me, reminding me that I’m free for the night. It feels nice and refreshing, making me glad that I chose tonight of all nights to walk. Mine and Bailey’s house is only about a thirty minute walk, so it doesn’t hurt to get a little exercise once in a while when I don’t have time to hit the gym, which I haven’t in about a month.
I’ve been walking for a good twenty minutes, lost in thought, when I realize that I’ve turned down a dead end street. I thought it would be a short cut, but yeah, no.
I stop and get ready to turn around, but decide against it when I hear what sounds like a bunch of people cheering on a fight.
It sounds as if it’s coming from the alley at the end of the block, and of course, instead of going the opposite way I get drawn to the rush and decide to check it out.
Walking in the direction of the sound, I make my way toward the screaming quickly, kicking up dust as I hit the dirt road. My adrenaline is pumping with curiosity now, giving me no choice but to at least get a glimpse.
Once I get to the hidden spot I see a crowd of at least fifty or more people and I was right—they’re cheering on a fight that is taking place. The scene makes me think about something I’ve been working hard to forget, but for some reason I still find myself curious and keep moving closer. I have to be stupid for wandering into an unknown crowd of people late at night, but I can’t seem to care.
Soon I find myself getting lost in the crowd, my eyes glued to the two men at the center, mauling each other like fucking animals. They’re both bloody and out of breath, but still going at it as if their lives depend on it. It’s nothing I’ve never seen before, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. I’m intrigued, or maybe I’m just out of it tonight. That could be it too.
Sweaty bodies bump into me, screaming in my ear and throwing elbows and fists, egging the fighters on as I just stand here in a trance. After some piss drunk guy that weighs a ton steps on my foot and falls into me, I decide that it’s time to go. I’ve dealt with enough sweaty men for the day and after my ten-hour shift all this screaming has my head about to burst.
Pulling my eyes away, I push my way through the crowd and am just about to break free when someone grabs my arm and pulls me back in. I can’t make out what is going on or even who has me; all I know is that I’m about to throat punch someone if they don’t let go of me.
“Do you mind, asshole?” I pull my arm free as I scream, but get pulled back in as if they’re trying to get me lost in the crowd with them. This only pisses me off more. I hate being handled as if I’m a weak fucking girl that can’t take care of herself, because I’m not.
The guy holding me pumps his fist above my head and screams, “Go, Mark! I have your prize right here if you win,” he says with a slight slur while pulling me against his body.
“The hell you do.” I elbow the guy in the stomach and pull free as he grunts in surprise. I push his shoulder so he’ll look up at me. His dark eyes meet mine as he lets out a small cough. He looks as if he feels like an idiot for what he did and he should. “Put your hands on me again and next time I will rip your fucking dick off.”
He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a few steps back. “Whoa. My bad, babe. I was just having a little fun and trying to motivate my friend up there. He’s losing his ass off. You should take that as a compliment.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head, annoyed that he thinks his explanation makes it okay to just grab a random girl and offer her to his friend. “You’re an idiot . . .”
“Trevor,” he says with a smile. “But you can call me anything you want, babe.”
I give him a dirty look while looking him up and down. He looks young, about my age, maybe twenty-three or so. He has blonde, curly hair and is well built. I have to admit—he’s not a bad looking guy; just a stupid one and I don’t do stupid, not anymore.
“How about asshole? ‘Cause that works for me,” I say sarcastically.
Letting out an amused laugh he checks me out, stopping at my breasts, clearly clueless to the things I can do to him. “As long as I can call you later.”
I let out a stupefied laugh and pinch his cheek for being so stupidly cute. “No thanks, Trevor. As awesome as that sounds, I’ll pass this time.” I turn away from him and look through the crowd, trying to find an empty path. I’m ready to get the hell out of here. “I’m sure some lucky lady will enjoy the presence of you convulsing above her later tonight though. Good luck with that.”
I take off walking before he can say anything else. I guess it’s just one of those kind of nights.
Once I get home, I walk in to see that the place is empty. Bailey must still be out with Landen or is staying at his place for the night. It’s not unusual for her to stay over at least four nights out of the week. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s kind of nice to have the place to myself.
“Work it is I guess,” I mumble, while walking into my room and crashing on my bed. Rolling over, I reach for my camera and lay down on my back.
I search through the pictures of my last photo shoot, deleting some of the pictures that I’m not in love with. I end up searching for about an hour until my eyes begin to blur and I have to put it down for a while. I guess snapping four hundred shots was a little excessive, even for me.
Sitting up, I look out my bedroom window for the umpteenth time, just now realizing that in the three years we have lived in this place I haven’t once seen anyone come out of that damn house; yet, it wasn’t available for rent when we asked about it.
It looks old and worn down. The red paint on the outside is chipping and the porch looks as if it’s about to cave in. I’m almost positive that no one lives there, but a part of me can’t help but to still wonder. The more I stare out the window, the more I want someone to just appear. It’s like I’m looking for entertainment for the times Bailey is gone with Landen. Pathetic, right?
