I glare harder at her, but she only turns my face towards Stanley.
"I see it," she says. "He's behind her, fucking her hard. Her curly hair is wrapped around his hand, and he's pulling her head back hard. Sawyer asks him to stop. She tells him to slow down and let go of her hair. He won't listen. He doesn't care. He just slaps her on the ass and keeps plowing her. Her cries of pain mean nothing to him. She's just a new pussy to enjoy."
Upon hearing her words, I feel a rage awaken inside me. I was grumpy when Stanley arrived. Now, I want to destroy him. Imagining hurting my woman makes me need to feel his fucking hot blood on my hands.
"Shivers," Bodie says, grinning next to me.
Stanley notices my gaze on him. He looks around nervously, making Colbie laugh.
"He's going to kill you," she says in a singsong voice.
"Look, just let me see Sawyer."
"Get the fuck out," I say in a voice shaking with rage. "Sawyer is mine."
Having never felt such rage, I'm lucky to form words. I've beaten on guys who messed with the club, yet I always remained in control. I can't stop thinking of him fucking Sawyer the way I did hours earlier. Hell, even if Stanley backs down, I want to kill him. Not only him, but anyone who so much as looks at Sawyer. She's mine, and I can't let her go again.
"Whatever," Stanley says, opening the door. "Later, McLaughlins."
"I like when your balls crawl up inside you. It's sexy," Colbie tells him.
I can't hear what he says, but she laughs. Bodie laughs too, even though I doubt she heard either. Watching Stanley go, I shake with the need to break his bones.
"Whoa, boy," Bodie says, throwing a drink in my face. I glare hard at her, but she just smiles. "Wanna fight?"
Colbie sighs. "Great, now he can't turn it off."
"Oh, he can. He just needs to think about puppies and kittens and fucking Sawyer. Rainbows might help too."
I take a deep, unsteady breathe. "You're not funny."
"Let me tell you a story," Bodie says, guiding me into the living room.
Giving a grunt, Colbie walks the opposite direction. "Boring."
Bodie and I sit while I struggle to stop thinking about Stanley fucking Sawyer. Hell, I'm even thinking about Ellie from the gala and every other man who ever glanced at Sawyer.
"As you've probably noticed, my parents aren't together, and my mom isn't around," Bodie says, handing me a towel to dry my face. "Mom was a wee lass when she arrived here from Ireland with big dreams about America. Mainly she was looking for cock she hadn't ridden yet. Yeah, Mom's a slut. Her fucking name is actually Jezebel."
I give her a look, and she winks. "So she met my dad, and they had a magical romance involving fucking against the car and the wall and with her bent over the car. Just heartwarming shit. After she got pregnant and couldn't run away and get an abortion, she gave birth to two beautiful children along with a third shitty one sporting a tiny dick."
Walking past the room, Zane flips her off. Bodie grins at him and continues.
"After giving birth, Jez took her big fat check and returned to Ireland. For many years, I only knew of her as that slutty whore skank who gave me life. Then my dad fell hard for another stupid bitch whore who got it into her empty fucking head that I should get to know my mom and other Irish family. Technically, she thought the same about Colbie and Zane, but who cares about them?"
Listening to her story, I still imagine chasing after Stanley. He can't be too far away. Yeah, I bet I could catch him and tear his eyes out before Bodie even finishes her story.
"Pay attention," she says, snapping her fingers in my face. "I'm getting to the important part."
"About time."
"Save the moody shit for someone who cares."
We share a dark gaze, but Bodie isn't phased.
"I hated visiting my mother. I hated everything about her. I hated everything about her family. I hated everything about Ireland. Mostly, I hated how I couldn't kill anyone. I was stuck with stupid people without the ability to set a fire or nothing. It was a dark time in my life, but I learned a new trick. I call it my bottle of hate."
Bodie slaps me just above my gut. When I tense like I might hit her, she only rolls her eyes.
"I bottled my hate. Every time I wanted to slap someone or strangle someone or stick a fork in someone's face, I shoved the anger into the bottle. I'm sure a therapist would say it's not healthy to keep the hate hidden. In fact, my therapist said just that."
"You see a therapist?"