Page 18 of Sweet Deception
A nameless waitress who had the balls to crash the wedding and seduce an enforcer. If I keep her around and train her to take more of my cock, I wonder how long it’ll be until she regales me with her tales of financial woe.
Case in point, the girl needs to go.
Shutting off the water, I exit the shower and towel off. Once I finish messing with my hair in the mirror, I pluck the complimentary bathrobe from a nearby hook.
Meanwhile, aimless, asinine questions pick at me one after the other.
Would it be rude to ask her name before throwing her out?
If I’m throwing her out, why do I need to know?
Do I even care?
Absurdly, the answer’s yes.
She needs to go, that’s true. Especially because I’m irresponsibly curious about her.
And no, I have no desire to examine why.
I can’t stop thinking about her angelic face or her cool, untouchable confidence or how her entire self-presentation fell apart the moment I claimed her mouth with mine.
My cock definitely remembers.
It wants to demolish her pussy all over again. Big red flag. I need to get her away from me.
Or…maybe not.
I mean, yeah, she needs to leave. But I also don’t see why I couldn’t keep her around for a while longer. I booked the room for the next few days. We could have some more fun, maybe grab breakfast together, check out the pool. Then, before it gets too hot and heavy, I’ll just fly back to New York. Problem solved.
Logic finally restored to my brain, I reenter the bedroom to wake my sleeping beauty only to find the mystery woman gone.
I pad out into the den and cast a glance toward the balcony. Empty. By the doorway, where she took off her shoes, there’s nothing.
She’s gone. Without so much as a note on the nightstand.
Well, what the ever-loving fuck…?
What kind of gold digger pulls a smash and dash?
I didn’t even buy her a cup of coffee yet.
Surprise and irritation shoot up inside me. Am I missing something here? Yes, I planned to eventually toss her out on the street like a common whore in some seedy underbelly somewhere, but it’s not because last night wasn’t incredible.
It’s because I don’t do “fun times with beautiful women.” I’m an undertaker. That’s my job. The darkness required to kill, maim, and destroy means I can’t afford to let any light in.
What the fuck was her excuse?
She came up here to shake me down for money using her sweet pussy, so why the hell did she leave before finishing the job?
Now I’m even more curious about her.
How infuriating.
I was going to let her stay and ditch her when I leave—and she ditches me first?
Screw this. I still don’t even know her name, and that rankles me even more.
Pissed, I march around the bed to grab my phone. As I snatch it up off the bedside table, a notification on the screen catches my eye.
