“I want to fuck you, Kayla.”
She freezes and a blush enters her cheeks. Hmmm…that might be new. Even when I took Melinda’s virginity she didn’t blush. Perhaps I misjudged the pretty little Kayla.
“I…I can’t. I’m in a relationship.”
I take out my wallet. “I can afford to be generous. Plus, your boyfriend need never know.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Let’s get the money out of the way? Shall we? A thousand dollars and you’ll be on your way in an hour, maybe two.”
“I…a thousand dollars?”
“Do we have a deal?”
“You’ll wear protection?”
Oh please. Like I would ever sink into her unprotected. She scrubs toilets for god-sake.
“It will be a hardship, but I shall.” I reach around her to turn the shower on. She jumps as my arm brushers hers.
“Okay,” she whispers and the tear that falls from her eye makes my dick throb. Time to let the beast out to play.
I harshly place her so she has her back to me. I pull that hideous faded shirt off her and throw it to the floor. She gasps but unfortunately does nothing to fight me. She’s wearing a plain white bra underneath. My first instinct is to destroy it. Instead, I unlatch and throw it to the ground. I grab a hand full of her hair, pulling her neck to my lips. I bite—not hard…not gentle. My nose curls in disgust, she smells like cleaning chemicals.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, pretty Kayla, I will ruin you for any other man.”
“Why…why me?”
“Take your pants and underwear off.”
She hesitates for a minute and I pull her hair harder. “Give me what I want, any way I want it and you can take home five grand.”
“Five grand?” She gasps, but I notice she is taking her clothes off more willingly.
When she is finally naked, I push her into the shower.
“Clean up. When you come out there will be clothes and perfume waiting for you. Do not keep me waiting.”
She looks shocked. She has no idea the game she signed up to play. While she’s in the shower, I lay out a red silk negligee that I often had Melinda wear for me. I also lay out her perfume. My dick is rock hard at the thought of punishing the bitch. Well, as close as I can come until I have Melinda in my hands again.
And…I will have her in my hands again. She will pay.
Chapter 23
Nicole
The club has been transformed; it looks nothing like it normally does. I don’t know who was in charge of cleaning and preparing for the service, but it does look beautiful. Still, I hate everything about it. I’m sitting in the front row, Bull on one side of me and Dancer on the other, with Carrie beside him. I can hear the tears being shed throughout the room.
I’m not crying. I have no tears left. I’m holding my man’s cut in my arms. Our son kicks inside of me, he’s been kicking nonstop since the service began. It’s like he can feel the emptiness around me and is just as upset. Can he feel the difference in the air I’m taking in? How it is thin and insubstantial? How it does nothing to sustain me. Instead, the air burns my lungs. Each breath feels as if I am the one now dying.
I stare at the black granite urn on the pedestal in front of me. Frog’s is a navy blue urn in an almost matching design and on a pedestal, too. I can’t grieve Frog. I can’t even try. My heart and mind is too consumed with Dragon. The service just broke. The members are talking, they’re laughing or telling stories. Remembering Dragon and Frog in their own way and trying to hold onto them a little longer. I can’t. I’m two steps away from falling completely apart. I can’t do this; I can’t let go of Dragon. I can’t survive even a day without him, let alone say goodbye. He’s been gone close to a week now. If it was going to get any easier, surely it would have in that time.
“Nic? How are you holding up?” Carrie asks. I feel bad that I’ve been less than nice to her. I think part of me resents her, because she has everything I thought I had—only she gets to keep it. I swallow down my resentment, it’s not her fault.
“Considering I just had a service over an empty urn, and that I’m burying my husband…burying Dragon tomorrow? Peachy.” Okay maybe I’m not burying my resentment quite so well. I can’t even call him my husband and that just…hurts.
Carrie lets it slide, and my guilt increases. She doesn’t deserve me being so shitty to her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and she reaches out and holds my hand and applies pressure to it briefly before letting it go.
“Dani was wondering if you’d come by and see her.”
No. My mind cries out. I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. I close my eyes and I’m all set for my denial, when instead I nod my head in ascent.