Ripper's TormentBy: Sam Crescent
It was strange not to be judged by their cut. He was so used to having some women scamper away from them while others were all over him like a rash. Mia didn’t look scared of them. If anything, she looked more annoyed at the lack of women offering to take their orders.
“She seems nice,” Curse said.
“Mia’s a sweetie-pie. I just wish she knew how to relax.”
“Doesn’t she judge you from hanging out with us?” Pussy asked, speaking up.
“Nope. I told her how happy I was, and she didn’t have a complaint to say.” Ashley looked held her cup out as Mia returned to pour them all a drink. Curse was quiet throughout it all.
Ripper knew why but kept his smile to himself. His friend had always loved a quiet, dark haired beauty.
The door to the diner opened, and his own torment entered. Judi hadn’t even seen them in the diner. “Look who it is,” Curse said, nodding toward her.
His voice gained her attention, and she looked toward them. Ripper recognized the fake smile. She was not expecting to see them inside.
“Hey, guys, you here for breakfast?” she asked, approaching the table.
“I think it’s more lunchtime now,” Ashley said, smiling. “Do you want to sit with us?”
“No, I’ve got some reading to do.” She nodded at each of them avoiding his eyes. He tried not to watch her head to the back of the diner. Mia returned carrying their food.
Ripper watched as Curse leaned in to smell her skin. The movement was slight, but their friendship was long. He recognized movements that others didn’t.
Mia left them alone to deal with Judi.
“I see someone has gained your attention,” Ripper said.
Curse glared at him while Ashley perked up. “Really, who?”
“Nothing.” Both men answered together. Biting into his pancakes, Ripper tried to ignore the woman in the back of the diner. When everyone finished, Ashley said goodbye to her friend. He stayed behind so he could have a word with Judi. She looked too pale for his liking, and he hated to think about her suffering.
Looking out of the window, he saw the last of the bikes disappearing before heading to the back and sitting opposite the woman who was plaguing his thoughts.
She tensed as he sat down.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing, I wanted to see how you were doing.” He leaned back, watching her.
Judi paused, putting her fork down onto her plate. “I’m fine, Ripper.”
Staring into her dark brown eyes, he wondered what was going on in that head of hers. She had always fascinated him, but he’d cut any of the thoughts or curiosity from his mind. For the first time in the last two years, he wanted to get to know more.
“What did you want me to say?” She hadn’t picked up her fork to eat some more.
Leaning over, he snagged one of her pancakes and ate it himself. “Last night you killed a man. I’m not a fucking idiot, and I don’t need a degree to know it fucks with people’s heads.” His first kill had left him reeling for days. To get over it he’d drunk, done drugs, and fucked every pussy available to him to stop thinking about what he’d done. Being in the club helped him even more.
Tears filled her eyes, and she looked down at her food.
“I’m trying not to think about it.”
Her voice was only a whisper, but he caught the sadness in her tone.
“You need to think about it but get over it.”
She looked up, glaring at him. “You told me not to mention it outside of that hotel room. Why are you forcing me to talk about it?”
“Because I was being an ass, and you deserve better. Killing a man doesn’t make things easier. I took care of it, but you need to take care of it here.” He pressed his fingers to her temple.
“I’m never going to be able to get over it. I killed a man.”
“I know. I’ve killed many.”
She closed her eyes, picking up her fork to start playing with her food. “How did you handle it?”
“The usual way, drinking, snorting, and fucking. I doubt it’s going to work that way for you.”
Judi shook her head. “I’ve fucked enough men.”
His hands fisted at his sides. “Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what? It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not. You were fucked by men, forced to do it. You were never willing.”
“How do you know?” she asked, glaring at him.
“A willing woman doesn’t get beaten black and blue by their pimp.”
Her cheeks were bright red. Reaching over, he took hold of her hand. “I bet you don’t even know what it’s like to experience a real orgasm.”