Yeah, I could get used to this place. Whiskey, porn, and a nice fire going. This was the life for me. I had it made. Me and Jack could really make something of ourselves here. Maybe we’d fall in love and make a few mini-Jacks and Brooklyns. Though as I thought of that, I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t wanna push a giant Jack baby out of my tiny vagina. No, that wasn’t the life for me at all. Maybe I could be like the girl in this magazine. I could set up a camera and have Jack go to town on me, then we could post it online and watch the money roll in. Mm, I didn’t hate the sound of that idea. We could call it Jack and the Beanwhore. Or Jack Licks Her Magic Bean. Or Jack Stalks the Bean. Or, The Giant Comes Down from the Beanstalk and Fucks the Living Daylights out of Jack’s Sister and-
“Change.” Jack reappeared, tossing me a big old plaid man shirt and some black long johns. He had more clothes in his hands and as he pulled his soaking wet shirt off, my gaze zeroed in on his muscular chest, the abs that were cinching tight across his stomach, the hugeness of him that bulged everywhere. Eve-ry-where.
My pussy throbbed and I just stared as he dropped his pants and boxers too, showing me a cock that I swear was close to tickling his knee as it just dangled there like a fucking sea monster wrestled into submission. But something told me if I woke that sea monster, it would need a warrior to take it down again. Was I trained for that? No. But I’d don the armour and give it one hell of a battle.
“Hi,” I breathed, my hand raising in a wave, the need to introduce myself to the monstrous cock in the room overwhelming me. It had so much presence it simply demanded it. “I’m Brooklyn with a B.”
“Rook,” Jack corrected, and my eyes snapped up to his again.
“Ca-caw,” I said like a rook. I liked that nickname. I wondered what it would sound like being moaned in my ear. But then again, Jack didn’t look like he would moan for anything. He’d grunt and roar and growl like a beast, but moan? Nah, nothing that soft could come out of those manly lips. Those lips were made for sucking on rocks and spitting tobacco. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like The Witcher?”
“Dress,” he commanded, ignoring my words though his eyes were riveted to my face and drinking me in in a way that made me feel like he’d been thirsty for a long damn time.
I hadn’t actually seen The Witcher, but I’d seen pictures of him and I was pretty sure I knew the gist of the show. Man says fuck, man makes witches’ panties melt. Sounded like my kind of show.
Jack tugged on the large jeans, cinching them around his waist with a belt and leaving half his calves exposed. He pulled on a white shirt next and his muscles filled it out almost as nicely as the big guy’s gut probably had.
I stood, stripping out of my wet clothes and Jack’s eyes never moved from my flesh, though not a flicker of emotion passed through his gaze. Except maybe anger. But then when your name was Angry Jack, I guessed you were always a little angry. His fist balled at his side though, and his throat bobbed as my hard nipples turned his way, making it clear how cold I was, though they were also enjoying the feeling of his eyes on them while they put on a show.
I wiped the blood from my hands onto my sodden clothes then pulled on my new long johns with the large shirt, pouting down at the ugly outfit. So this was my life. I was a trollop in the woods, living off the land. I’d really thought I’d suit that lifestyle for a second, but now that I was faced with the reality of it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay here. There were far better things out there for me and Jack. We could become pirates sailing the seven seas, or wandering nomads who travelled from state to state, slaying bad guys and staying in dodgy motels. Or maybe our destiny was even bigger than that. Maybe fate was calling our names, and this was just our villain origin story, waiting for us to step into our true roles as evil masterminds set to take over the world. Hell, we already had our villain names picked out. Angry Jack and the Pink Pussy unite. We needed signature weapons though. I’d have a serrated boomerang and Jack could wield a double headed hammer with a head in the shape of a roaring bear. It would have to be a big one, really, really big.
“How big of a hammer do you think you could hold?” I asked him just as the drone of a helicopter soared overhead. My heart did a flip and I wondered if maybe I still had an incy wincy bit of drugs still left in my system because something tugging in the back of my head said I should be shitting my panties right now. If I had any panties on, that was. So maybe I should have been shitting that dead guy’s long johns. Instead, I was kind of enjoying this field trip and I was very curious about what time we were going to be having dinner. What did woodland people eat? Would I have to battle a peeping squirrel for his hoard of nuts? Could I win in a fight like that? Hard to say for sure, squirrels were nifty and all kinds of crafty too. Especially if they got their friends involved. I couldn’t take down an army of squirrels, maybe Jack could, but not if there were a thousand of them. Oh no, I don’t want to die hungry being choked out by hundreds of tiny squirrel feet.
Jack moved to the window, twitching the curtain aside as the wail of a siren sounded off in the distance. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, a lot of thoughts and calculations going on behind those intense grey eyes. I could hear his brain working, or maybe that was just the sound him cracking his knuckles one by one.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
“Stay,” he decided. “Think.”
“Okay, big man,” I agreed, heading off into the tiny kitchenette to rummage in the fridge for some food. I’d have to consider how to take on the squirrels later if there weren’t enough snacks here. “You do that. I’m gonna refuel my jets.”
T he cops had kept us pinned down well after the prisoner transport vehicle had sunk beneath the surface of the river, and I’d experienced the most terrifying moments of my life as I’d been left helpless against the fate which was coming for mi sol. The light in my small and hopeless world had faded in those moments, each of them dragging into the next as I made an attempt to run for the edge of the bridge and dive in after her only to feel the keen sting of a bullet as it tore across my arm.
Niall had grabbed me and thrown me back into the cover provided by his destroyed car just in time to save my sorry life, and even now as we ran through the forest in hunt of the girl who had us both so irrevocably enamoured, I couldn’t figure out what his motive for that act had been.
He’d been the one to see her surfacing. He’d spotted her as she scrambled to keep her head above the surface while the current of the river swept her away from us and the rest of the prisoners all started swimming for freedom too.
We’d watched as one of them had helped her, the two of them swimming towards the bend in the river and out of sight before we could free ourselves from our fucking predicament of being pinned down by the police.
I had come up with an insane plan to rescue us, taking the axe he’d named Evangeline from the back of the car and splitting the gas tank open with one mighty swing. Niall had lit a cigarette and started running, leaving me scrambling to race after him a moment before he flicked the burning smoke into the gas tank and the entire car had gone up in a fire bomb. Of course I hadn’t known he had a trunk full of grenades and fireworks so the fucking thing had taken half the bridge out with it too.
We’d been hurled off of our feet, thrown almost the entire way to the far side of the bridge from the police as they all yelled and ducked for cover while chunks of concrete, metal railings and the remains of the Jeep were launched into the air and sent crashing down into the river.
Then we’d taken off into the woods without a backwards glance and had begun the task of hunting for my chica loca in the dark forest which surrounded this place.