Four Letter Word (Dirty Deeds 1)

And what I knew had me fighting it every second and with every breath I took.

I wanted to go to Whitecaps and watch her, see and study her in the daylight.

I wanted to be close enough to count the freckles I knew spotted her nose and admire the moles she hated, press my lips to them and tell her they were mine and they were beautiful.

I wanted to fuck her discreetly or in public, bend her over one of the tables she was waiting on because I couldn’t wait a second longer to get inside her tight wet pussy, live out every lewd act we’d confessed and finally satisfy the hunger that itched in my veins and watered my mouth.

Taste and touch and suck and fuck. I wanted to do everything.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. She was right in front of me, a mere ten minutes from my store and fifteen from my house, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

She watched porn, not heavily but she did on occasion watch it, a fear I had confirmed two nights ago when I got the balls to ask her straight out, thinking we could go ahead and breach the topic since I’d just made her come by explaining in detail all the ways I wanted to fuck her.

Tits. Mouth. Cunt. Ass.

Not much seemed off-limits now.

I didn’t ask which ones or what sites she visited. I didn’t want to bring any more attention to it, and honest to God, I was afraid she’d elaborate and give me shit I didn’t want to hear like who her favorite porn stars were or what titles got her off the most.

If it was me or one of mine, this would be over. I knew that.

I’d eventually break and go see her at work, reveal who I was and watch her rip everything we had away from me.

I could only fight this for so long.

If it wasn’t and I knew the fuckers, or hell, even if I didn’t, I’d find them and wind up in jail for assault.

So here I was, stuck. I couldn’t do anything.

Torture.

I hadn’t known the definition of the word until three days ago. Now I was living it.

There was something else, too, another fucking problem I was dealing with, only this one I could deal with. I could manage it.

And that was exactly what I was doing strolling into Xstasy on a day I didn’t need to be there.

Shit had changed. There was no going back to the innocence we shared before. Syd and I both knew that.

But I had obligations. Guilt I couldn’t turn away from.

I also had a plan.

I crossed the dank studio on Tuesday afternoon, using my lunchtime to handle this shit after Jamie had returned to Wax following his lesson, my eyes locked ahead of me on the office door and my ears indifferent to the crude noises echoing off the walls and ceiling.

I fucking hated this place.

I knocked twice and waited to enter only when I heard the go-ahead. Getting that, I pushed inside.

Mike was sitting behind a metal desk littered with papers. Across from him perched on the edge of her seat sat a young blond woman, face coated in a thick layer of makeup and tits pushed up and in.

I didn’t recognize her. She must’ve been new. I knew all the girls.

Her eyes moved to me and widened in favor.

I looked from her to Mike and tipped my head, asking, “Got a minute?”

He grinned like the Joker.

“For the man responsible for lining my pockets with enough cash my ex-wife has shut the fuck up about the child support I owe her and is currently all over my dick, keeping it wet ’cause she wants me to buy her new titties for Christmas?” He slung his feet up on the desk and linked his hands behind his head, leaning back and doing it still grinning. “Fuck yeah, you can have a minute. Sit down, Dash.” His eyes trailed to the woman as she slowly stood. “Talk later, sweetheart. I’ll call you.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mike.”

I stepped aside so she could slide around me and get to the door.

Her hand grazed my hip as she moved.

I knew it was done deliberately. She had plenty of space to get past. I made sure of that.

“Excuse me,” she whispered with sex and opportunity in her voice, batting her lashes before turning and stepping out.

The door shut behind her.

I slumped down in the chair she’d vacated and rubbed at my face.

Mike chuckled, shaking his head.

“Jesus Christ. How much pussy does your dick see on a daily basis? Shit, man.” He looked at the door, then back at me. “You wanna work with her, ’cause I can make that happen. She’s interested in the job. Very interested. Willing to do anything. I can arrange it so you’re the one breaking her in.”

“I’ll pass.”

His eyebrows rose.

“You sure? I offered eighteen-year-old virgin ass to Shane, he’d be all over it.”

“Then offer it to him,” I growled, driving home my point. “I’m not interested.”

Mike dropped his arms to the chair and shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

“Need to talk to you about something.”

“Figured that’s why you were here. What is it?”

I pulled in a deep breath and sat my right ankle on my knee.

“I want to switch to solos starting immediately,” I informed him. “Just me and the camera. None of your girls. I’m done with that. And I want to make close to what I’m making now.”

Mike gaped at me, didn’t blink for what felt like a solid minute, then started cackling like he’d just been told the funniest shit he’d ever heard in his life, head thrown back and hand slapping his thigh repeatedly.