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Steven stopped outside of his house and jumped out. He threw open the back door and grabbed Davide. He pulled the dead man out, his face calm and cool as he dragged the body across the sidewalk, up to his front door, and inside. It was the most brazen, crazy thing I’d ever seen in my life. I sat there for a long moment, staring at the bloodstains on the back seat, the car’s engine still running.
My door opened and Alex was there. He took me by the arm. “Come on,” he said. “Get out.”
I let him guide me out of the car. I walked around the back as Alex closed my door then Davide’s door. He reached in through Steven’s window and turned off the engine. I walked on autopilot in through the front door and stood staring at Davide’s body on the couch.
“Alex,” Steven said as Alex came in behind me. “When the doctor gets here, make sure Davide’s taken care of.”
“What does that mean?” Alex asked.
“Make sure he’s fucking dead,” Steven said. “And if he’s dead, start getting rid of the body.”
“Shit,” Alex said.
Steven got in his face. “This is what it means to be made,” he said, his voice a savage growl. “Can you fucking handle it?”
Alex went white, but nodded. “I can handle it.”
“Good.” Steven stared at him for a moment longer then turned to me. “Colleen. Come on.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I stared at the dead man lying on the ground.
Steven walked to me and took my arm. Not hard, but firm enough to guide me away. He led me to the steps, helped me climb them. He took me upstairs, up to his bedroom. He took me into his own bathroom and started the shower. It was bigger than the one attached to my room and much nicer. I stared at the tile and wondered where it had all come from.
It was an insane thought to have. But I couldn’t think straight.
Steam began to rise from the shower.
“Come on,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s undress. Clean you up.”
I let him pull my shirt off. I couldn’t fight him and didn’t want to. He dropped the blood-stained shirt on the ground. He took off my bra, then my tight yoga pants, and finally my underwear. He stripped me naked then led me to the shower. I stepped inside as he took off his clothes, and as I stood under the hot water and let it run down my back, he finished undressing and joined me.
I looked up at him, heart racing. I watched the water run pink off me. He took some soap from the dish sitting on a small ledge at the back of the shower and lathered his hands. He washed me, cleaning the blood from my skin, my face, my neck and arms. He cleaned my hands, going slow, making sure it all came off. He finished by lathering his hands with shampoo and washing the blood from my hair.
The water ran pink for a while. But soon it was clear, and I stared down at the drain.
He stepped close to me when it was done. I felt his body against mine and looked up into his eyes. He was so handsome, so beautiful and muscular and dangerous, and all I wanted to do was cry.
I buried my face in his chest and he held me tight as sobs ripped from deep within me.
He held me for a while. I don’t know how long I stayed there, crying in his arms. I didn’t even know Davide, didn’t much care for the guy. But he had died in front of me, died right there next to me. His blood was in my hair, but now it was gone, just like he was gone.
I got a hold of myself after a while. I looked up at him and he stared into my eyes. He kissed me, his lips gentle and probing. I kissed him back with a hunger that surprised me, and I felt like I’d woken up from a long and horrible dream.
I pushed my body against his, my heart racing, my mind wild. I reached down between his legs and his half-hard cock. I felt a thrill run through me. Even after what happened, even after cleaning blood off me, he was still half-hard just from seeing me naked. I stroked him, kissed him, bit his lower lip. He let out a growl and grabbed my hair hard as his cock stiffened in my palms.
I stroked him faster and he turned me, shoving me back against the cold tile wall. I gasped as his hand went between my legs and he kissed my lips.
“This is what you want?” he whispered. “This is what you really want?”
“Yes,” I moaned.
His fingers teased me, slid up my slit, rolled around my clit. I needed to feel alive, I realized. I needed to feel like someone cared about me in this world, and right now, I thought Steven was the only person that really truly gave a shit whether I lived or I died.
