“I’m sorry,” I say.
“And don’t apologize like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m going to hit you,” he says, and I cringe, shrinking back from him.
“Like that. That right there. I’m not going to hit you. There is nothing you could ever do that would make me mad enough to hurt you. Whatever you are running from is behind you now. Tell me you understand that, Riley.”
“I understand,” I say, nodding slowly.
“Good, so again, I say welcome home.”
“This is where you live?”
“We live. It’s just one of the places I own.”
“Wow. The view is amazing,” I say, walking over to the wall of windows that faces the street.
“We’re forty stories up,” he says, coming up behind me.
“That’s pretty high,” I say.
“Tell me what happened in the car,” he says.
“I had a dream, more like a nightmare. The only one I have,” I begin and then continue telling him my story. When I am done, I realize that I’m not crying. This is the first time I’ve told the story without breaking down. It’s also the first time I’ve told anyone that my dad was in the mob. If anyone would understand, I figured it would be him. Cops just don’t get it. Since birth, it’s been ingrained in me that snitches get stitches, so it never dawned on me to tell the cops that part.In fact, if they hadn’t busted down the door, I would have just called my dad’s friend Gus and cleaned up the mess.
“Jesus. Riley, that’s a terrible thing for you to have seen. I mean all of that, really. I’ll protect you from all that,” he says.
“Promise?” I ask, turning to him. He nods. I look up into his green eyes, and I get lost in them.
“Right,” he says before swallowing thickly. I watch his Adam's apple as he does. This is the first time I really get to look at him. He’s handsome, of course, but there’s something dark lingering just around the edges. I want to explore that. Tentatively, I reach up and run my finger down a still angry scar that goes from his temple to his ear.
“What happened here?” I ask.
“Somebody cut me,” he replies.
“Were you in the process of killing that somebody?”
“Yes. Does that scare you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t be killing me. I assumed he deserved it.” Something about the way he’s treating me makes me feel powerful. I feel confident in my skin for the first time in my life.
“He did.”
“Hell will welcome those righteously taken from Earth,” I tell him, thinking of my father. I hope that bastard burns for his sins, as terrible as that sounds.
“Heaven will welcome those wrongly taken in turn,” he says, making me think of my mother. I smile at him again.
He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, but at the last second, he pulls away.
“Let’s get you settled into your room,” he turns to walk away from me.
“My room? I thought I’d be sleeping with you.” He turns back to me, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
“I don’t trust myself,” he admits.
“Pussy,” I say as I walk by him.
“Fuck, peaches. Don’t talk like that. I can’t take it,” he says, adjusting the front of his pants. My eyes immediately follow the motion, and my drops open. My newfound confidence might just be the death of me.
Chapter Three
“When the night comes, and you go, I worry about whether or not you’ll come home. I miss you, and I hope you miss me too,” -RF.
Samson
After getting her settled into her room, I walk to the door. She rushes behind me.
“Thank you for buying me, Samson,” she says before kissing my cheek.
“You’re welcome, Riley. Good night. My room is just down the hall if you need me,” I tell her.
“Thanks. Good night.” She shuts her bedroom door, leaving me to walk dazed and confused down the hallway to my room, touching the cheek she kissed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think her lips were still on me. She seared my skin.
Inside, I lock myself in my bathroom, turn the shower on to the hottest I can handle, and stand under the spray. My dick is so fucking hard, and I am aching to stroke it to thoughts of her, but I am determined to wait until I can come inside of her. She’s even tinier in person; I will have to be careful not to tear her in half when the time comes. Aw, fuck it, I think as I grab my dick and jerk it. It only takes a few strokes before I’m coming so hard I think I get some on the ceiling.
After my shower, I pull on some sleep shorts and climb into bed. I finally have time to digest her story. I knew something had happened to her, but a murder-suicide she was basically forced to watch after being chained up and beaten? That was unexpected. I think she’s in severe need of counseling. I make a note to look into that in the morning for her. I don’t know why I am so surprised, though. The New York boys are crazy as hell, but to bring up a child like that doesn’t make sense to me. I can’t imagine the things she’s seen at the hands of her father. For everything terrible that my family does, we aren’t like that at home or to each other. Even my brother, who has been a jackass his whole life, would never do something like that.