Page 9 of Hearts Held
His tall stature towers above me, as his hands rest in his pockets. His pale white hair is arranged neatly atop his head. Haunting amber eyes stare back at mine.
His head is cocked to the side as he looks me up and down.
“Why, pray tell, is a woman likeyousitting here?” he asks.
Chapter 4: Everett
Welcome To The Circus, Five Finger Death Punch
My head is pounding as I feel the zipper climb up my trousers.
The release I was hoping for didn’t occur,again. It hasn’t since the war.
Only an empty release instead.
My back stiffens as a cold shadow creeps over my shoulders.
Then Seraphina’s voice scratches through my mindless thoughts as I tidy myself.
“Ya know, you really should try something different. Maybe you’d actually enjoy fuckin’ more than once a week. Especially if ya would take the bloody condomoff,” she verbally spits at me as she reaches for a cigarette, still lying in her overdecorated bed.
“Mmph.” I nod, acting as if I’m acknowledging another ridiculous opinion of hers. Her brown eyes glower at me. Her lips pucker against the stick, her dark brown bob swaying with each movement.
Take off the condom?
No.
I only utilize her once a week to blow off some steam, knowing I can’t get attached to her acid ridden soul. It’s disturbing of me, but I’d rather not have someone with good intentions develop feelings for me, especially considering I have nothing but ice within my veins.
Seraphina acts so entitled to me since I only useherand not any of the other ladies within the massage parlor, but sometimes she needs to remember our relationship isn’ta relationship.
One time she tried to buckle me down with a baby by poking holes in the condom, but luckily I know everything that goes on. She has readable actions, a large mouth and is unable to hide anything. She boasted to the other ladies about how she would conceive mychild and never have to want for anything again, for she’d havemyempire.
Moronic wench.
Last thing a child needs is a broken father and a poisonous mother.
“I’m serious, baby, if you wouldn’t have me on all fours every time, and maybe took your clothesoff, it would be much more enjoyable.”
The dark recesses of my mind push forward.No one will ever see my scars.
As I place my tweed coat back on, I morosely state, “So are you saying my cock doesn’t give pleasure?”
She halts whatever she is doing as I begin to leave her messy, darkened bedroom. It smells like musky lilac and cigarettes. I swear the woman never cleans.
“No, no, no, baby, that’s not what I meant.” She comes to me in her purple robe with sewn embellishments, curling her needy fingers around my arm. “I’m just saying if we try some other stuff, maybe you’d like it. Ya know, like the old times?”
I deadpan at the wall as the colder tone of my voice ebbs out, and I hold back the venom I want to spew at her. “Seraphina, it’s been years. When we did the thingsthat I liked, you went and told a couple people, who then mentioned it to a few other people, and I don’t likemy businessbeing told. If it wasn’t for my manners, I would have had you killed.”
Her eyes shift to the floor as her brown bob falls in front of her face, hiding her shame-ridden cheeks. She lets go of my arm and clenches her fists, ready to strike. “Ya know I can say and do what I want. You need to lighten the fuck up, Everett, and stop being such a stuck-up bastard. Jesus. Ever since the war you’ve become such a wanker,” she sneers, trying to get a rise out of me.
I want her to hit me. Maybe I’ll actually feel something for once.
She wants any reaction, just like every other encounter. She tries so hard to make me feel something, do something, but I feelnothing.
Leaving her townhome, I begin down the cobblestones, mentally reciting my never-ending list of things to do. Other townhomes pass by my peripheral as my thoughtscontinue.
Luckily some items have already been addressed, such as my meeting with the gang called London Order. Not many realize my hospitable manners are just tactics.
