Page 33 of Piggy

Grayson

Too fucking early. Two hours of sleep and I already want to kill someone.

I crawl over Charlotte and shower again. Let her sleep longer. Make her breakfast. Then go unlock her cuffs.

The key was in van-boy’s wallet, right beside a brass badge. Stolen or legit, I don’t care. If he shows up again, I’ll put a hole in his fucking skull.

She doesn’t even flinch as the cuffs click off her wrists.

So I smack her ass.

“Up. Class. Now,” I growl.

She groans, hungover, mascara streaked, eyes bloodshot, lips puffy.

Perfect. Wrecked, and mostly from me. Just how I left her.

She limps toward the shower, knees barely working, and almost bow-legged. I didn’t even fist her. Didn’t need to. She’s that untouched. That pure. Torn up from nothing but my cock .

Good.

She’ll feel me all day.

Still, I can’t shake it... Ignoring me like I didn’t exist. Her leaving a bar with another man. Ending up in a goddamn van getting titty fucked. I’d slit that guy’s fucking neck if she wasn’t there.

I thought she was mine. All of her. Especially her loyalty. Her best quality.

That’s the problem with sweet, dumb girls. They’re curious. Eventually, they fuck up. Then they learn.

I’m trying to teach her: Me. Only me.

I’ll take care of her. Fulfill her curiosities. And I can... if she stays.

But she won’t. She’ll get a good job. Meet better men. Stable. Safer. Smarter.

She’ll leave.

God, I fucking hate that she’s building a future that doesn’t need me.

All I can do now is hope. Hope last night was a mistake. That she still remembers who she belongs to. And what I’ll do if she forgets, I already know. It’s just a matter of time.

She slumps at the kitchen table after her shower, eyelids heavy, lips chapped, sore where it counts.

I smirk at her misery, and sip my coffee as I stare at the girl who detonated my fucking life.

“Didn’t fix your tires,” I mutter. Like it matters.

She glances up from her bacon. “Oh? Uh, that’s okay. So— ”

“I’ll drive you. Eat faster.”

When I drained the air yesterday, it wasn’t to hurt her. It was recon. I needed to see where she took her classes. See the men walking in. See if they looked at her like I do.

I cock my head, too tired to fake patience. “I’ll pick you up too. Not Keysha.”

Her fork pauses. “You will? What about work?”

“I said I’ll handle it. You ride with me now.”

Hell, I should sell her car to Bobby. Strip it for parts and dump the rest in the lake. I want her close. Dependent. Within my reach.

I check the time. My pulse ticks faster. “Hurry up. We’re leaving.”

She nods and scrambles to grab her bag. But just as she reaches for the doorknob, I fist her hair and yank her back.

She gasps.

I lower my mouth to her neck and breathe her in. Beautiful. Sweet. Even after last night. But she covered the hickies. Hid my bite marks. That pisses me off.

I pull her hair tighter until she arches, neck bared.

“I want the ratty hair back,” I growl. “Tell Keysha to take this shit out.”

She stiffens. “What?”

“You heard me, Charlotte.”

“But—”

I shoot her a look. The kind that ends arguments before they start .

She swallows. Shuts the fuck up. Like she should.

I stare at her a second longer, force a pleased smile, then let go. Underneath, though, I’m disgusted. Forgiveness? What a laugh.

I opened myself up to this short, irritating bitch. Gave her everything I didn’t know I still had. Let her in. Then she sent me all over town, bringing up thoughts I’ve suppressed for so long. Fuck, I didn’t know I could still feel that much.

Just a matter of time, though.

I’ll keep her close and pray she never smartens up. Because if she does... she’ll run.

But until then, all I got is that faint sense of hope.

The day drags. I’m on my fifth energy drink. The work is endless, heavy. I’m sweating bullets, still fuming, and of course, obsessing.

I check my phone every chance I get. Ready if she needs anything. A fuckin’ tissue and I’ll bring it to her.

No texts.

After lunch, I’m losing it.

Who did she sit with? Was it a guy? Some grinning NPC who lent her a pen and thinks he earned more of her attention. Is she into girls now? Maybe she’s making friends. Ones that’ll convince her she deserves better than a guy like me .

Damn it. Snap out of it, Grayson.

I cave anyway. Thumbs move before I can stop them.

Having a good day?

I stare. Wait.

Crates slam. Fish slap cold metal. Men shout over compressors.

None of it touches me.

“Fucking reply, Charlotte,” I growl, teeth clenched so hard my jaw aches.

Still nothing.

Apparently, I didn’t teach her anything. Should’ve skull-fucked her till she puked, then shoved her face in the mess and made her say thank you.

“Grayson! Move your goddamn ass!” the foreman barks.

I wipe sweat off my brow, mutter a string of curses, and shove my phone back into my pocket.

I miss Meghan... if only for her money. I don’t mind this work. But I mind not having freedom to go whoop Charlotte’s ass at this moment.

It’s time .

I wait curbside, engine idling, jaw locked, watching the doors like a predator. Then I see her.

That selfish fucking brat.

Smiling, carefree, talking to... a guy. Somewhat tall, brown hair, lanky, tats, young.

The way he looks at her? He wants her.

She laughs loud, pushing on his shoulder playfully.

That flirty little—

My fucking God, this woman is trying to kill me.

She waves goodbye to that asshat, scopes for me, and then skips over like that wouldn’t make me lose my mind.

She hops in the truck and leans close, planting a big, wet kiss on my cheek.

“I texted you,” I start gruffly.

“Oh? My phone died. Didn’t get to charge it last night.”

I narrow my eyes. “Nobody had a charger, huh?”

She bites her bottom lip and fidgets nervously. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to pay attention to the instructor.”

“I’ll get you a charger to put in your bag.”

“Okay,” she squeaks.

“Who was that guy?”

Her eyes widen and she perks up. “That was just Matt, a guy in my class.”

I leer. That fucker has his name on her lips.

She must see me twitch.

“Grayson. Oh my gosh, don’t worry! Just a classmate. Babe, I, I thought we were good? You forgave me. ”

I drag my hand down my face, slow. I’m spiraling, and she can tell. Why does this one woman make me feel this way? So out of control.

Frustrated, I put the truck in gear and peel onto the street.

“Tell me about your day,” I say brusquely, changing the subject.

“Um. It was good. I learned—” She stops herself. “How was your day?”

“Fine. What did you learn about?”

She persists. “I wanna know about your work. Please.”

I side-glance at her. “Chucked fish.”

And obsessed. Worried about you. Drove myself insane thinking about your soft fucking moan. Those big dumb eyes looking at someone else. Got ignored — again. Hate that I feel this way.

But all I say is, “I need you to distract me right now, Charlotte. Talk.”

She must hear my need for her to speak, and she immediately obeys.

And slowly, I come down. I breathe. She’s here. My girl in my truck. Mine again, for now.

But I know what’s coming. I’ll have to drop her off. Let her out of my sight. Let the world near her again.

So I drive in silence, dreading it.

And soon, I drop her off, tell her to stay home, then head to my new job working second shift at Los Palamas Meat Processing Plant. Just as I walk in, my phone buzzes.

Meghan

Miss you come home baby

Yeah, no.

It’s tempting. I’ll give her that. I’m dead tired and mentally drained. But I ignore her, as usual.

That woman is gone. A comfort that was a drug, always an overdose, but a high nonetheless.

Besides, I already belong to someone else.

Buzz, buzz.

Charlotte

I charged it!!!! I love you.

I exhale as if I’ve been holding my breath all day. I thumb out a reply fast:

Good girl love u too

I do love her. Too damn much.More than I can survive. She’ll be the death of me.