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“He deserved it, Ma,” I’ve said countless times and her response is always the same.
“Don’t talk about that.”
“It’s just the truth,” I always tell her. “I don’t need to sing a damn song about it, but we both know it is.”
She doesn’t like to talk or think about the paths our lives have taken since that fateful day. The Family saved me, employed me, and covered for me. They sympathized with my situation. They helped me from the start when Mom got sick. The Familymeanssomething, but Mia means more, somehow.
Mom is so dosed up on pills that she tells me she wants to get an early night. Since she’ll be staying at the hospital again, I swing by the department store, get a few supplies, and then take a winding route to the apartment to check for tails. There are often telltale signs, but some are extremely slick, blending into the environment. Colt is good at that.
Back at the apartment, I ride the elevator up. I realize I haven’t checked my Mia phone since I left. I quickly take it out and switch it on. Five texts ping immediately.
How did the meeting go?9:03 a.m.
Am I leaving today or tomorrow?10:47 a.m.
Are you with Dad? Are you okay?1:45 p.m.
I’m probably being a psycho by texting again, but text me baaaaaaaaaaack.
3:59 p.m.
Just let me know you’re okay, jeez!4:44 p.m.
When the elevator doors open, Mia is waiting for me. She’s at the entrance, wearing loose-fitting jeans and a baggy T-shirt. Somehow, the messy look makes her look even sexier, especially with her hair tied up in a wild bun.
“I just checked my phone,” I tell her. “I forgot, Mia. I’m sorry. Ma woke up today. We talked.”
Mia softens. She looked like she was about to explode, but now she tugs on her T-shirt, my cute, shy virgin. “Dante, that’s so, so good. I’m happy for you.”
“But you want to hear about the ransom.”
“No, really…” She takes another step forward, putting her hand on my arm. “Please don’t leave me hanging again. It’s so boring around here.”
“Just one more night,” I tell her. “Tomorrow morning, Colt will be here. He’ll drive you to the docks. I’ll come and pick you up.”
She swallows. Her hand tightens on my arm. I slip my phone into my pocket and place the bag on the floor, then grab her hourglass hips and pull her against me. She makes the horniest, steamiest gasping noise like she’s been waiting for this. I groan as I claim her lips, sinking my hands greedily into her thick body.
She wraps her arms around me, digging her nails into me. I can feel her lust in how tight she squeezes, but when I slide my hands toward her ass, she moves away.
My dick is already so hard, the end dripping.
“Is this the art stuff?” she says.
“Yeah,” I tell her, taking her by the wrist, “but I’ve got a deal for you. You can paint me, but after, I’m painting you, Mia.”
She bites down, that heated look in her eyes. “Paint me how?”
Pulling her toward me, I use my other hand to glide it up her thigh. I keep it low on her leg, not near her heat, but close enough, watching the lust make her eyes wide. “Paint your tight, perfect, virgin pussy,” I growl, “with my tongue.”
“Oh,” she whispers, a tremor moving through her, making my dick bulge even bigger and get even hotter. It’s like I’m on the verge of exploding every damn moment. I can’t help it.
“Just that?” she whispers. “Won’t you want to… do something?”
The base of my dick aches just thinking about what I would do. Lick her pussy until she’s soaking wet, then press my dick between her horny, excited lips.
“I want you to feel good,” I tell her. “I want you to know there’s no pressure.”
“That’s funny,” she whispers. “When I look at you, I see a lot of pressure. Like you’re going to blow.”
