AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I wouldn’t have cared if she didn’t. After dealing with Clancy and that scene with Christy, I’m not in the mood to fuck anymore. I’m more irritated than anything.
“I’m Lisa,” she says, looking around. “I like your place.”
It’s nothing special, but it’s the nicest home I’ve had. The walls are paneled in light wood, while the floors are stained dark. A king-sized bed is in the middle of the back wall next to a leather chair and a wood-burning fireplace, with a large screen TV mounted on the opposite wall. I don’t have a kitchen; it’d be pointless since Sugar makes all our meals in the clubhouse, but I have a cupboard for snacks. And there’s a full bath on the other side of the room.
I flop onto the bed. “Just somewhere to sleep.”
“It’s kind of spooky.”
Taking in the artwork hanging on the walls, I see where she’s coming from. My tattoo artist is also an amazing painter. The pieces I’ve purchased all depict a woman in a sheer white robe, walking through a forest, a dark demon lurking in the shadows. To some, it might seem like he’s stalking her, but I see it differently. I think he’s protecting her, keeping her safe, even though she’s creeping through the forest alone.
“I guess,” I say.
“So, what do you want? A blow job”—she slides the strap of her black dress off her shoulder—“or more?”
I reach for the remote off the mini-fridge that doubles as a nightstand and toss it to her. Surprisingly, she catches it. “Don’t want shit from you. Take a seat and turn on a show. After about an hour, you can go, but don’t say anything about this.”
“Really?” Her brows lift, and she smiles.
“Yeah, really. You’re just here to make a point.” I produce two bottles of Bud Light from the fridge and offer her one. She takes it and curls up on the recliner, flipping on the TV. After scrolling through the channels, she chooses some stupid reality show that I find myself enjoying, though I’d never admit it.
Not the evening I wanted, but maybe it’s the evening I needed. Opening a brothel sounded as easy as finding a building, hiring some bitches, and sitting back while the money pours in. I didn’t even think about the building needing massive renovations or the permits and licenses being next to impossible to secure.
I went from being a mechanic at The Garage to Vice President of the club to an entrepreneur, all in a matter of months and without any kind of education or training. I’m a high school drop-out with a GED, for fuck’s sake. There’s no reason I should be where I am.
The only thing I have is Cyrus’ belief in me. My life changed for the better the day I left home and showed up on his porch, asking for more hours so I could survive. He did that and more. He made me part of a family and convinced me I’m capable of great things. I owe him my life, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect what we’ve built.
If I had any regret, it’d be for the little girl with stringy blonde hair and hazel eyes who has probably forgotten about me by now. How old is she now? Twenty-one? Shit. I can’t imagine my sister as an adult.
Leaving her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I think about her every day.
CHAPTERTWO
NAVY
Most landlords require first and last, plus a deposit.
I wonder how much the average rent is for a place in Henderson. I’ll look it up later today so I have a goal.
Henderson is a good choice. Far enough away from here that I’ll be safe, but close enough that my car will make the drive. Plus, Mom always said she loved Vegas, and Henderson is only a hop, skip, and a jump away.
It’ll require a lot of money, though. I’ll need to find a new job since my pay at the diner sucks, but that’s doable.
Where can I work that doesn’t require a degree but pays a lot?
Ray grunts, and I feel him flood my insides with his vile seed. He didn’t bother with lube, and I sure as hell wasn’t wet, so it stings, and I know I’ll be sore later, not that he cares.
I purse my lips tight as I’m hit with a wave of nausea. Good thing I’m flat on my stomach because if I had to look at him right now, I’m certain I’d puke.
“You dirty fucking slut!” He releases his tight grip on my ponytail and roughly shoves my head into the pillow before pulling out. You’d think he’d be in a good mood after getting off, but each time ends with an insult. Too bad his words have lost their meaning. He needs new material.
I don’t move until I hear him zip up his pants and leave my room, slamming the door behind him. Only then do I feel safe enough to roll over, squeezing my thighs shut and clenching my inner muscles so I don’t have to change my sheets again. I don’t have the time or energy for that.
Carefully, I slide off the bed, throw on a robe, and grab a change of clothes before dashing across the hall to the bathroom and locking the door behind me.
I avoid my reflection in the mirror as I turn the water on in the shower and sit on the toilet to expel him from my body. I can’t look at myself like this, or I might start to believe I’m weak and pathetic like Ray says I am. This is the part I hate the most: when I can still smell and feel him all over me. Once I cleanse him from my body, I’ll be born again, and only then can I look myself in the eyes.
Steam billows out of the glass enclosure, fogging the mirror. It’s my cue that it’s safe to get off the pot and into the shower. My skin crawls as I dump an insane amount of body wash into my palm and begin the arduous task of scrubbing him off me.
