Page 90 of Stutter

Thadd: Riordan is saying something else.

Ty: My uncle has one of our coroner’s doing the autopsy. We’ll know more during the meeting.

Me: Funeral?

Ty: Wake is Wednesday. Funeral’s on Thursday.

My palms are sweaty, watching my wife dance with some man, her hands on him, swaying her hips, her head leaning back, and his hands smooth over her short dress, downward, under the hem, touching what’s mine. It used to work for me. Someone touching her would set me off on a jealous rampage and she would get so wet we’d end up fucking like rabid animals on any available surface.

Now she just tries too hard and it’s just sad and pathetic.

She’s a beautiful woman. Magazine cover worthy. Actually worked with Sofia Monroe’s agency for a while. But you know what they say, one man’s barren wife is another’s cum dumpster, or whatever.

Past my wife, I see a gorgeous little brunette bombshell sitting at the bar. Fake tits, fake ass, fake lips, and while someone like her could never be in the same tax bracket as me, it doesn’t mean she won’t be a good fuck. A hole is a hole. She lifts a brow and tilts her head towards one of the VIP rooms of Inferno, sliding off the stool and heading that way. I set my glass of vodka down and stand, buttoning my suit jacket before giving my wife one lasteye roll and following the bitch in heat through the sweaty, dancing bodies.

She’s a screamer, and the banging on the other side of the two-way window is none other than Clarissa, I’m sure. Watching me pound into this fake beauty from behind. I come with a roar as she screams, filling the condom to the brim. She giggles, pulling up her panties that only made it to her knees, and kisses me on the cheek. When she opens the door, a teary Clarissa enters, slamming the door closed behind her.

She slaps me.

Cute.

“You’ll fuck her, but you won’t fuck me?”

“You want me to fuck you, Clarissa?”

“Please!”

“Then suck my dick clean.”

She looks at me in horror. “Her juices are still on your dick, you asshole.”

“Then clean it up with your tongue or let me get the fuck out,” I growl.

The lame bitch sinks to her knees and puts my spent cock in her mouth, licking and sucking but fuck, it just doesn’t work for me. She sucks harder, cups my balls, throating me the way she knows gets me so hard it feels like my balls are going to burst. But I don’t feel a goddamn thing when it comes to my wife.

I laugh, pulling my dick out of her mouth. “Damn, Clarissa. Even your mouth is as useless as your cunt.”

I leave her there, on the floor, without even a glance back.

Ten Weeks Prior…

Last week we buried Chase. This week it’s Tyler. Ashleigh and Thadd won’t shut the fuck up beside me as we watch Riordan give his eulogy by Tyler’s body at Grimm & Sons’ funeral home. I can feel eyes on the back of my head and when I turn back, I cansee Axel and beside him, Raven stares at me, caramel gaze so striking it sends an electrical spark down my spine and straight to my dick. Fuck she looks good. I smirk at her and turn back around to face a whining Riordan.

God, he looks terrible.

Grief does not do a person good.

________

We throw moist, cold dirt over Tyler’s casket along with a rose. My hands feel disgusting, and I need to cleanse myself. But there are no bathrooms here. I avoid everyone, get to the Towne Car waiting for me, and tell the driver to head to the Prescott Estate. I need to wash my hands quickly. Truly, I need to bathe but, I highly doubt I’ll have the chance to do so. I summon control over my tics and the urges I get. I haven’t gotten laid since that brunette at Inferno, I haven’t killed in months, and now I’m fucking dirty.

My mood is sour at best.

The Syndicate meeting ends after the Prescott’s interrogate Jonas, and he leaves too quickly after some commotion in the hallway. I don’t care. I can still feel the grime of the dirt on my hands even though they’re clean and I need to fucking shower. I need to fuck someone besides my dirty fist.

Eight Weeks Prior…

The dancer on Stephen’s lap is new and kind of awkward, albeit hot as fuck in a super tight, almost see-through bodysuit. She leans a lot and can barely dance but obviously, Stephen only purchases her as arm candy. I can see why. Again, she has an ass I want to shove my face into until the pattern of her fishnets are imprinted on my skin.

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