She was looking at me a little confused, looking more than a little hurt. Her last sentence hit me in the gut but I forged ahead anyway, “Why’d you have a big sexual appetite in a place like that?”
She opened her mouth in shock and then she slumped.
I waited.
Her face went red.
“Forget it.” I knew she fucked to survive and it’d had probably twisted into want out of necessity. I was dealing with an internal struggle here and it was making me be an insensitive dick to her.
I felt like I was falling for this, falling for the idea of a girl who worshipped me, wanted me, loved to fuck the way I wanted, wanted a houseful of kids, would lay on my stomach contentedly while watching sports. I didn’t wanna let myself get attached in case I was missing something important, like a ploy or plot, like another one of my Pop’s games. He could certainly be playing me from the grave given the fact he’d put these wheels in motion before he died.
Besides, she could get over this hero worship shit and what if what was left was nothing but pain for me? I became someone I hate after Debbie fucked me over and if I let myself fall in love again and got fucked over again what would I become then?
“Got shit to do today. You need anything before I go?” I downed the rest of my coffee and then headed toward the bedroom, avoiding her face, which I knew was hurt.
“No,” she said softly as I passed her.
I changed into a suit and headed to my den to send a few emails and get some stuff in motion. When I came out she was cleaning the kitchen. She looked gorgeous, wearing a pair of black yoga pants and royal blue racerback tank. She had her hair tied up in a messy knot and she was barefoot. My eyes landed on the collar on her throat. I had to resist the urge to take her by it and haul her back to the bedroom or to the kitchen floor, or wherever. Everything that collar stood for was wrong. But the fact that she was wearing it meant she was mine. Not only to her but it looked like it was starting to mean that to me, too. She fucking loved that thing. I loved that she loved that thing. But I was twisted up over the guilt I felt because of it.
I approached her and she hesitated, not meeting my eyes. She was picking up on my mood, evidently.
“I’ll be back later,” I kissed her forehead. She leaned into my lips and then tipped her mouth up, wanting my lips on hers. I hesitated and then gave her a soft lip touch and let out a long sigh. We stared into one another’s eyes for a minute. Then I backed away, shaking my head. She visibly deflated as I did, her eyes downcast. I left the apartment and it left an emptiness in my chest to walk away from her. But I did it anyway.
** ** **
That afternoon I worked on some shit to do with the construction arm of the business, including a meeting with a few of the foreman who weren’t happy to be called in on a Sunday but too fucking bad, and at 2:00 my cell made a noise alerting me to a text from Tess asking me if I was coming to the house for Sunday dinner and if I was bringing my “new girlfriend” or not. It would be just the girls and the kids as Ed had to work, covering for his backup chef who usually worked Sundays. I didn’t know if I could handle dinner with them and the third degree about her. Obviously the ‘new girlfriend’ remark was Tess baiting me to see if I’d agree or say “she’s not my girlfriend”. I’d be the only male outta diapers in the place if I did go so I told her I had to work and couldn’t make it.
I wished I had my brother here, accessible, so I could run some work shit by him and so I could talk over this Felicia shit. I felt guilty for interrupting him in his new life. I’d told him to let me handle things and now I was feeling like I was in over my head. Fuck. I felt dirty even thinking of her as Felicia. But when I thought of her as Angel I thought of her as being MY Angel and that felt dangerous to me because of what it represented. Me, vulnerable.
Tommy was accessible by phone or computer but it wasn’t the same. I wanted to sit down and have a drink with my brother. What I probably wanted most was for him to clap me on the back and tell me Carpe Diem with the girl. She was mine. Seize her. He’d done it and he hadn’t regretted it.
When we were having a drink together the night before he got married he told me that the guilt was there at times but that his need for Tia was always stronger than the guilt. He told me he gave her the option to leave once and she refused to take it and pushed him to prove he wouldn’t ever let her go and that’s how he knew that he would never want anyone else, ever. At the time it’d hit me hard, made me want what they had even more. And now it was definitely in my brain. Would this girl pick me if she had a true choice? If she wasn’t fucking broken? It was too soon. Way too soon for me to start feeling this attached to her. I was just attached to the idea of her, that she was as close to perfect as I could expect to get. Being broken notwithstanding. But she didn’t always seem broken. I’d seen glimpses of fire in her eyes, maybe I was catching glimpses of who she used to be.
I had options to consider. Keep her, try to forget about the existence of the club. Let the profits continue to go into an untraceable account offshore and send someone, probably Stan, as a rep to the meetings when I had to. Do what we often did with the construction business; sub it out. Back away. Let it happen for now and just concentrate on the plan to sell Ferrano Enterprises and figure it all out later.
Or, fuck it all. Take the money we had squirreled away and grab my sisters, Ed, Lisa, the kids, and fuck off somewhere, maybe to Costa Rica where Tia and Tommy were living in paradise under fake names.
And her. Leave her a decorative piece in the apartment three doors down. Set her up with counselling. Wait a few months and stage her death, pull that tracking impla
nt and bury it, but really sneak her out the back door and set her up with a life on another continent under a new name.
Or, see where this thing could go. Face the fact that I was too fucking hungry to be reasonable, too infatuated by her and the idea of what she could give me to last more than a few days before I had tasted her, fucked her, fuckin’ lapped up her hero worship of me.
What if I just followed Tommy’s suit, took what was given to me and kept it, protected it with every ounce of my being, hoping I’d get my happily ever after, too, and that I’d somehow miraculously escape karma for keeping her? I knew what I should do. I also knew I probably wouldn’t do it. Not after tasting what she had to give, what she begged me to take.
I worked until after 10:00 that night and then had a Skype chat with my brother about business until after 11:00. I didn’t bring up any personal shit. He asked how it was going with my houseguest and I’d said ‘fine’ then changed the subject, didn’t tell him I’d fucked her, that I was thinking about keeping her, that the dilemma had me twisted up inside. I kept it to myself.
** ** **
When I got home she was asleep on the futon in my den. Shit.
I’d been an asshole that morning and then left her alone all day without calling and now here I was, standing over her while she slept. When I’d gotten in and saw she wasn’t in my bed at first I panicked but then saw where she was sleeping. Of course she wasn’t in my bed, she’d never just presume that she was allowed to be there. At first I went back to my bed and laid staring at the ceiling for 10 minutes. Only ten minutes and here I was. I should leave her, create some distance. But what if she has a nightmare? What if she lets me create distance?
I leaned over and scooped her up into my arms. Her eyes opened and she looked at me with a little bit of fear and then with another emotion; it looked like affection and need. It gnawed at my gut and I felt a mixture of desire and regret. I carried her to my bedroom without a word, put her on my bed, and then I was on her, on her like white on rice, yanking clothes off, grabbing a handful of her hair, which was again curly, thank fuck, but grabbing it probably a little roughly, and slamming my mouth down on hers.
She spread wide for me and moaned into my mouth. I rammed my cock into her, hard into her, and for a minute I held her so tight I was worried I was gonna hurt her. She went from asleep to wide open and completely wet in just seconds. I played with her clit while I fucked her and her hips circled and circled until she convulsed around my cock, crying out a “Thank you, Master” that made me come 2.5 seconds later.
I held her tight, burying my nose into her hair and kissing her over and over, along her jaw, up and down her throat, on her soft lips, on her eyelids. It almost split me in two when she again said, with so much emotion in her voice, “Thank you for saving me.”