Bree
When I awake, I am alone. The spot next to mine in the bed is cold, and I sigh in relief. There is no way I can handle waking up next to him. My heart is beating out of my chest as it is. I want to see him, but at the same time I don’t. I hate him, but I kind of find him endearing at the same time.
His smirk makes my panties melt, but his cockiness and the way he handles things make me want to turn his gun on him. I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. I need to pee but feel it is safer to hold it. I take the small amount of time I have alone to think things over.
Alzerro, or Zerro, or whatever the hell he calls himself told me he would kill me over and over again yesterday. Except I don’t believe him, not even after I watched him kill that man on the floor downstairs yesterday. I can’t help but feel like helping him, yet I hardly know him.
Then there is the fact that I am not sure why I am really here. He didn’t take me last night; in fact, he stayed on his side of the bed and I stayed on mine. I know it won’t last long, though. One way or another, I will have to spread my legs for him. I will have to give him access to who I am.
The water turns off and the door opens, pulling me from my thoughts. I watch him as he walks out of the bathroom with a scrap of a towel covering his lower half. It looks more like a washcloth covering the area, but who am I kidding? All I can think about is the way his mouth felt against mine last night and his abs. God, his abs are beautiful. Each chiseled little marking on his stomach…the dips and planes and that V… That fucking V is something women would kill over.
“Let me give you something more to stare at…” His voice pulls me out of my trance only to throw me back into it as he drops the towel from his waist.
I can’t help my expression. My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes open. A family of flies could have made my mouth their home, it is open so long. I snap it closed, hoping he doesn’t see. He is very well hung. His head has beads of water on it, and he is cleanly shaven.
“Do you like?” he asks, smirking. His hand strokes the base, and I swear to God one of my ovaries explodes. Pulling my eyes from his…cock to his eyes turns me into a puddle of mush. I know he just killed a guy yesterday, and he is all kinds of fucked up, and I am supposed to be paying a debt for my father, but I am attracted to him. I can’t help it, and I am not sure if I want to.
I don’t respond to his question, afraid that it will come out as a moan. Instead, I get out of bed and head straight to the bathroom as I listen to his laughter.
“You can’t hide from it, Piccolo.” His voice has an amusement to it that hadn’t been there yesterday. I sit on the toilet to take care of my business. I am afraid he will come barging in, but believe he might actually respect my privacy. One can’t tell with him.
“My dick calls to you…” Now he is just being an ass. A smile pulls at my lips, though. As fucked up as all this is, and it is all kinds of fucked up, it is nice to smile just a little bit even if I have no clue what will happen to me today since I’m staying with someone who points a gun at people more than he talks.
I wipe, flush, and wash my hands before actually taking a look at myself in the mirror. I feel fine, though my cheeks are lightly flushed. My eyes are a warm brown, shining back at me. My hair needs some serious taming, but other than that, I don’t look as if I have been taken by a mafia king into an unknown evil land. The fact that he is still out there, probably naked, reminds me that I need to take my birth control. The man can get me pregnant with one look.
I come out of the bathroom, peeking around the corner, waiting for him to jump out at me. When I spot him sitting at his desk with at least a pair of jeans on, I sigh in relief.
I pad across the floor, hoping that he is engrossed in his mafia shit too much to care what I am doing.
“Come here, Piccolo,” he says sternly. I stop dead in my tracks before turning around to face him. His hair is a mess, water droplets still clung to it, but his face looks less dark, though he still seems to have an edge to him. His demeanor seems to warn if you get too close, he will cut you straight down the middle.
“What does that even mean?” I ask, proceeding toward him with caution. He watches every step I take, his eyes going from my feet to the top of my head.
“It doesn’t matter what it means.” I can tell he isn’t going to answer me, so I let it go.
“Then don’t call me it. My name is Bree,” I retort. For some unknown reason, I find my voice. I don’t want to be that weak girl that cowers in the corner because she is scared. I need to deal with the situation. That’s what my momma would have told me to do: Grab the bull by its horns.
“I will call you whatever the fuck I want. Now drop your pants and panties and sit at the edge of the desk.” His finger points at the exact location my butt cheeks need to be. Instead of doing as he wants me to do, though, I glare at him, willing ice daggers to come out of my eyes and stab him.