Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I was the best in the city and I earned that title through blood and suffering.
“Are you okay?” she asked as I joined her on the stoop.
She leaned back against the black metal railing. Her hair shone in the streetlight. She tilted her chin up toward me and parted her lips again. I felt a stab of something in my gut and realized it was desire, plain and simple.
I wasn’t going soft. It wasn’t soft to want a taste of this girl.
I could always kill her after.
She sucked in a breath as I stepped closer to her. I could feel the warmth of her body. I reached up and touched her cheek with my right hand, fingers brushing against her skin. I bent down and kissed her, nice and soft, just a gentle probing, trying to get to know her taste.
She returned that kiss with a depth that I hadn’t been expecting.
I held her there, pushing her back against the railing. I felt my heart pound in my chest and my cock responded to her soft warm body. I broke off the kiss, but kept her pinned.
“Coffee,” I said.
“Yeah.” Her voice was a whisper. “Coffee.”
I released her. She turned to the door, unlocked it, and let us both inside.
Her building had a ratty green carpet and stained beige walls. The doors were brown wood with gold numbers on the front. We took a dark, wobbly staircase to the second floor and she took me into the front apartment labeled 2A.
“Nice place,” I said as she flipped on a light.
She hurried to straighten up some magazines and put a few dirty mugs in the sink. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect to have someone over for, uh, coffee tonight.”
“That’s okay.” I put my hands in my pockets. “Where’d you get this furniture?”
“Thrift stores mostly,” she said. “Craigslist and eBay, too.”
“It’s really decent.” I walked over to the coffee table and ran my hands over the wood. “Mid-century modern. Really nice. Consistent, too.”
She blushed again and I could tell she was proud of her decor.
I couldn’t blame her. The place was immaculate. Each piece had distinctive long, slender legs and faux-wood grain. The prints on the walls were all fifties modernist style in bright colors. I could see her wearing a headscarf, an apron, a pair of black high heels, and nothing else.
It was a damn good image.
“So, uh.” She lingered in the kitchen. “I guess I should make decaf.”
I shrugged. “Sure. Mind if I use your bathroom first?”
“Go ahead. Down the hall, right at the end.”
I nodded, walked past the kitchen, and into the hallway. I saw her bedroom, the hardwood floor covered in a smattering of clothes, and went into the bathroom. A teal shower curtain and a white porcelain sink.
I took the Glock from my waistband and stared at it.
The suppressor felt heavy in my jacket pocket. I took it out and twisted it onto the end of the pistol’s barrel.
But instead of walking out there and putting two bullets in her chest, one in her brain, I knelt down, opened the sink’s lower cabinet door, and shoved the gun back behind the pipes. I stood up, adjusted my collar, unbuttoned a second button, and turned to the door.
I didn’t have to kill her tonight. I could always kill her later.
Or maybe tomorrow.
Fuck Dante and the family. I worked for them but I wasn’t a made man and they didn’t own me.
I walked back out and smiled at her. She lingered next to the coffee machine but it wasn’t running.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t have decaf.”
“Good.” I walked to her. “Fuck the coffee.”
“We shouldn’t do this,” she said, but didn’t move as I stopped inches from her.
“Probably not,” I said and leaned down to kiss her.
She returned that kiss again with the same hunger.
Maybe it was a mistake, but it was a mistake we both wanted to make.
I held that kiss then moved down to her lips. She let out a soft gasp as my hands moved up her hips, teased her breasts, moved to her back. I found the zipper on her dress and slowly pulled it down as I bit her lower lip.
She let it fall forward then pool around her ankles.
I stepped back and couldn’t help myself. “Fuck,” I said.
That blush again. “Don’t stare,” she said.
“How am I supposed to not stare at that?” She had on a pair of matching black lacy underwear like she knew I’d end up peeling her apart. Her breasts almost spilled out from her bra and the panties barely covered her gorgeous little pussy. She chewed her lip hard and gripped the edge of the counter.
“I’m not used to being looked at like that.”
“Then you’re not used to being half naked around men.”
“That’s true.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”