Savage Beast (Savage People 2)

I took a step closer to her. “Because everyone does.”

“Everyone goes to bed with you? You’ve never heard a ‘no’ from a woman?”

“Of course I heard a ‘no’. When I asked them if I should stop what I’m doing.” I smirked playfully and brushed a lock of hair from her face. She didn’t budge. That was a good sign. Dahlia groaned in the background.

“You sound awfully cocky,” Jade observed, her voice still playful, not mad. “And what happens if I don’t go with you tonight?”

“Then, Butterfly, I’ll pick someone else to do the trick and warm my bed.”

“Butterfly, really?”

Jesus, this chick had more questions than a two-year-old in a toy store.

“You’re beautiful and delicate, and I’m about to catch you and keep you for myself, even though it’s wrong,” I hissed, finally shutting her up. I guess it stunned her. She wasn’t ready for this kind of truth. I wasn’t ready for it either, but the need to fuck this girl was so overwhelming, I knew I needed to keep her, at least for a little while, even if she was the worst lay. Honestly, Jade looked so good I thought I could easily have her for a whole month without scrolling over my booty call contact list even once.

Jade leaned forward and, for the first time since I walked in, said something that wasn’t a response to something I said or did.

“Then you better get going to find another piece of ass to keep you warm tonight, my dear entomologist, because this butterfly ain’t sleeping in your bed.”

With that, they both left.

I had to Google what entomologist means. Apparently, it’s a dude who catches butterflies.

She forgot one thing.

I wasn’t an entomologist. I was a motherfucking Savage. And she was still dessert.

That night, I went to sleep in a cold bed with blue balls.

I was hungry for my sweets.

“So, I messed up a few of the customers’ names on their cups. But is it really grounds for being terminated?” I plopped down on Dahl’s couch where she sat with baby Kathleen, who was batting at her dangly earrings and pulling on her hair. Emerson, Dahl and Graham’s three-year-old daughter, sat at her feet ramming a toy train into her toes repeatedly. Dahl didn’t seem to mind the abuse and just stared at Leena lovingly. I told her Kathleen was a middle-aged woman’s name, so now we call her Leena. Dahl cut her eyes to me with a disbelieving look.

“You wrote ‘Cunty’ instead of Courtney. Hardly an honest mistake, J.”

“Ew, why are you defending her? And for the record, she was a cunt. She was throwing a fit about Andy making her drink and demanded someone else do it.” Andy was a high schooler with autism, and a great barista, by the way. I had zero tolerance for assholes like that.

Dahlia’s eyes grew wide. “She did not! Okay, maybe she deserved it.” I felt something digging into my thighs, swiped my hand under my legs, and came up with a handful of Goldfish crackers. I shrugged and tossed them into my mouth.

“I know, right?” I mumbled through a mouthful. “Thank you so much for having Graham hook me up with a job. I’d be so fu…” My eyes darted to the kids. “Screwed. I’d be so screwed otherwise.”

I had been trying to save up to go back to school and get the hell out of this city, but my sky-high rent on my shitty apartment made that next to impossible. I’d been meaning to find something that paid better anyway. Graham’s club may not have been my dream job, but it paid a hell of a lot more.

Over the past few years, something in me ha

d changed. Part of it was seeing Dahlia so happy and settled. She landed the perfect man, became a perfect mom, and had a perfect life. And no one deserved happiness more than Dahl. They were the exception, though. Not the rule. I knew that firsthand. Because my story had no knight, and it certainly wasn’t a fairytale.

Girls like me ended up with psychotic, obsessive men named Stefano. You know the type. They sweep you off your feet, then try to control every aspect of your life. About a month into our relationship, I found out that Stefano was involved in the Italian mafia. A few years ago, I didn’t even think the mafia was a real thing. Now, it seemed like my life was overrun with mobsters.

And it wasn’t glamorous. I knew relatively soon that I couldn’t be a part of that lifestyle.

The guns.

The drugs.

The infidelity.

After about six months, I finally was able to end things with my Italian ex-boyfriend. I had tried to break it off multiple times before then, but Stefano Ricci didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. At first, he just kind of acted like nothing happened. Like I didn’t just break things off. But then, he started to get angry. One time, he even handcuffed me to his bed for an entire day, and not in the kinky way. I finally threatened to call the police on him. I was desperate, and it was a last resort. I hadn’t told him about my connection to Graham or vice versa. For one, I didn’t know shit about the mafia, but something told me it would be a conflict of interest. Mostly, though, I just didn’t want to bother Dahl with it. She had her hands full, and I didn’t want to scare her.