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“I’ll be your first and you’ll be my only. That’s a promise,” he says, kissing me so hard and pressing his body over mine again, I can’t help but feel another quaking climax building before he lifts himself up, resting on his huge arms.
“What is it?” I ask, scared I’ve done something wrong.
“Not here though,” he says to himself, shaking his head.
“I lost myself just now, Carol. You’re just so fucking perfect I just had to...Well. Let’s get out of here if you’re okay with that?
Feeling my head bob, I don’t even know where we’ll go or what we’ll do.
But I do know why.
Because it’s Lucian that’s why.Chapter EightLucianI tell her to pack a bag. “Lots of these,” I demand, holding up her panties with one finger, figuring we’ll be going through a few sets if I have anything to do with it.
“Where are you going?” she asks nervously as I make for the door.
“Gotta see a man about some rent. What’s your super’s apartment number?” I ask her, noticing her scared look.
“101,” she murmurs, and I hear my knuckles crack.
“Don’t cause any trouble, Lucian,” she begs me, following me to the door until I instruct her to stay put.
“Lock it until I come back,” I tell her, kissing her before I go, not taking another step until I hear the lock click from the other side.
A quick call to an associate reveals a little more about the building and the super’s position in it.
“I see, thanks.” I let them know, asking if they can send a car and some hand sanitizer for me at this address before hanging up and popping my neck.
I follow the smell of stale cigars to the first floor apartment, knocking gently with all the knuckles of my right hand.
In my left hand is a neat roll of hundred dollar bills.
Twelve to be exact.
“Ah, Jesus Christ Bananas. Who is it?” he yells from the other side of the door.
“Marlene,” I announce. Probably not sounding like her, but who knows?
The TV sound dies down, there’s a clanking of bottles and heavy steps until the door swings open.
Piece of shit’s saved me a lot of trouble.
He’s only wearing a bathrobe and a stained T-shirt.
“The fuck you want?” he barks. Eyeing me and then the hallway, reaching for something behind the door.
But it’s no good.
It won’t do.
I kick the door and him back inside his apartment, smashing his cigar stub across his bloody nose before I grab him by the neck.
Turning him over, I lift his robe, revealing my reason for visiting.
I won’t go into too much detail, but after finding a dish glove in the kitchen I make a twelve hundred dollar deposit of my roll of bills where the sun doesn’t shine as fuck face squeals like a lamb and adds new meaning to the phrase dirty money.
He’s twitching and quivering on the floor by the time I wash my hands and step over him to leave, flicking the used glove into his face.
“You’ll be out by nine a.m. or I’ll be back to pay Carol’s rent six months in advance the same way, got it?” I ask him.
He nods feverishly, sweat and blood mixed with stale smoke and something else, some other smell all over him.
“Don’t make me come back and check now,” I warn him and make my way back up to Carol.
Fuck, I should’ve got a receipt. My accountant’s a stickler for those things. Ah well.
Carol’s nervous by the time I get back but relieved once she sees me in one piece.
“What did you do?” she asks, noticing my calm smile as I lean in to kiss her.
“Just had a few calls to make, a car will be here any minute, you ready?” I ask, noticing she’s changed, holding her a small suitcase and a glint in her eye which tells me everything I need to know.
“Just tell me I’m not making a fool of myself,” she says suddenly, right before we leave.
I get it. I kind of had the same thought, right up until she exploded in my mouth.
I doubted such a young, beautiful girl could see anything in me.
I guess everyone has their own hang ups.
I lean in close again, holding her neck as I press my forehead against hers.
“You’re mine now, Carol. You don’t need to worry about a thing,” I tell her truthfully.
“What did you do to Mr. Jelso?” she asks knowingly, and I have to stifle a grin.
“You don’t need to worry about him, or the apartment Carol. That’s all taken care of. Let’s go, huh? D’you know a good place to eat around here?” I add.
“Nothing around here’s nice,” she moans, pulling the door shut three times before it closes.
“Then we can head out someplace, or would you like to come back to mine?” I ask her, noticing how tired she suddenly looks.
