Page 82 of His Wicked Revenge

Stepping back behind her, I put a generous amount of body wash on the cloth. Starting with her shoulders, I massage the soap into her skin. She hums in satisfaction. It’s almost like a praise. Telling me I’m doing a good job, which sends signals straight to my dick.

Careful not to get her hair, I lift it and move it over to her other shoulder. The silence is calming between us as I wash her back and legs.

“Turn around for me,” I demand lightly.

She does as she’s asked. When she turns, I’m still crouched down from washing her legs, and her pussy is in my direct line of sight. Internally, I groan. I want nothing more than to taste her, but now isn’t the time. So instead, I lean forward and plant a gentle kiss just above her clit.

She sighs, almost in relief, but I don’t continue with the thoughts running around in my mind. I clean her from head to toe until there isn’t a trace of blood left on her body. Once pleased with how clean she is, I shut the water off and step out.

Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around my waist before handing her my extra one. Her movements are slow when she wraps the cotton around herself. The adrenaline must be wearing off.

“I’m going to get rid of your dress and the washcloth. Stay here until I get back, okay?”

“Okay,” she complies.

I put on some boxers before going under my kitchen sink and pulling a trash bag out of the cardboard box it came in. Well, I grabbed two. When I return to the bathroom, Veronica still stands in the same spot, staring down at the dress.

Opening both trash bags, I use one as a glove and pick up the dress, carefully dropping it into the other bag. Then, I step into the shower to grab the dirtied clothes.

“I’ll be right back.”

She nods, hugging the towel closer to her chest.

The good thing is that since it is so late, all of the older residents should be asleep by now, so I feel better knowing that I’m not risking running into anyone on the way to the basement. But my heart still races at the chance a neighbor will see me.

Luckily, I arrive at the basement without any issues. I open the door to the incinerator and toss the bags inside. With the door shut, I press the button that ignites the fire and sit there until it turns off. I need to make sure it completely burns.

After the machine stops, I open the door to see the garbage bags and the dress are no longer there. Sighing in relief, I stare up at the ceiling, silently hoping this is the last time I have to help Veronica in this way.

I return to the lobby and enter the elevator, whose doors are still open. Pressing the number for my floor, the doors slowly shut when I hear someone yell, “Hold that for me!”

Being nice, I stop the doors from closing to let the person in. The man is around my age, wearing dark blue jeans and a white polo shirt.

“Thanks, man.” He relaxes next to me, back against the elevator wall.

“Welcome,” I answer, keeping my eyes forward.

In the reflection, I see his head fall to the side to look at me. “Why are you in your boxers?”

There is a slur to his words. He is drunk. Great. “Didn’t feel like getting dressed.”

He hums, still watching me. “I’ve never seen you before. Does this mean that little witch Camille brought a guy home?”

That catches my attention. “Excuse me?”

“She never brings a guy back to her place. At least I haven’t seen her bring one.”

“You keep tabs on her?” The thought makes me sick to my stomach. Who the hell is the guy?

“I used to. When I wanted to fuck her.” The slimy grin resting on his face drops. “Until she held a knife to my throat. Then I realized what a crazy bitch she was. If you are here for her, then good luck to you, man.”

This must be how Veronica feels when she gets angry and can’t control it. I want to punch this guy right in the face for speaking of her this way. My hands tightened into fists by my side, but they loosened when his words hit me again.

He used to keep tabs on her until she took a knife to his throat. He isn’t a threat, and she made sure of that. I don’t have to fight Veronica’s battles for her because she is capable of doing so herself.

“You live here then?” I question.

“Mhm.” His eyes grow heavy. “Same floor as her.”