Page 12 of Dima's Vision
“I thought your family was dead?”
She stares at me, “My blood relatives are. But there are a couple of people who have my heart that call me that. Very rarely. I don’t see them much.” She glances away, pain etched on her face.
“I’m sorry,Ved’ma moya,” I say, gently cupping her soft face, my large thumb smoothing the crease between her brows.
“It’s OK,” she says quietly, her sorrowful eyes almost too large in her face. Her gaze moves over my shoulder for a moment, before returning to me, searching my eyes. “Say it again?”
My thumbs brush both her cheeks as I lean forward, resting my forehead against hers, “Kristie,” I whisper.
Her eyes close before she groans, “OK, well, you blew all my nostalgic feelings out of the water by saying my name all sexy like. I like it though. Call me that. But don’t blame me if you die.” She pulls back, twirling in place before pasting a smile on her face. “Dinner’s ready!”
“I still have to deal with Glenn.”
She spins toward me, “Where is he?”
Running a hand over the back of my neck I decide to be vague. “He’s ah, in the gym.”
“That’s weird. Lemme see?”
“No! How about you start eating and I’ll just quickly take care of it.”
Her eyes narrow and she steps up to me, her socked feet touching my boots, head tipped all the way back so she can stare at me. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“Oh good, you won’t mind me taking a look then.”
Quick as a flash she darts around me, running through my house looking in all the rooms. She giggles as I chase her, squealing when I almost catch her and she slips through my fingers. She may be small but she’s also wily. She beams at me as she skirts past and I can’t wipe the grin off my face. I feel light, free, unburdened by my gift. And then she stills in the doorway of the gym.
Her fists clench and I brace myself for the look of disappointment or judgement or fuck, disgust on her face she she slowly turns to me.
“Ho. Ly. Shit.” She stares at me wide eyed. “I fucking love it!” She launches herself at me and I have enough wits about me to catch her, my hands cupping her juicy ass, holding her tight to me as she throws her head back and cackles while Glenn curses behind us.
Her thick thighs tighten around my waist as she bounces with excitement in my hold. I try to angle my hips back so she can’t feel the evidence of my arousal, but it’s no use. My cock is rock hard in my pants and her heat rubbing directly over him isn’t helping. The little minx knows it too because her laughter ceases, and her little bounces switch to rhythmic grinding as she circles her hips.
“Better make the most of it, witches. One of you will be dead soon,” Glenn says, voice laced with glee.
Kristie freezes, her eyes on mine before she spins her head to glare at Glenn’s naked ass in the air. “Lets eat, kill this fucker and then I’m going to let you split me like a log. Got it?”
I swallow thickly. Yeah, I think I got it.
Kristie
Well, if Dima is gonna die soon then I better make the most of our time together. My gut clenches at the thought of him not being in the same world as me, but we both know how this will end. It’s my curse. And I call it that because that’s what it is. Where what Dima has is an absolute gift, the ability to reunite loved ones, what I have is destructive. It destroys families, tears them apart. Probably why I leaned into it and became a hitwoman. Not that I had much choice. When La Madrina took me in I was so desperate for connection, a family, that I would have done anything to be back in the Mancini fold. Even though I was bounced around from family member to family member growing up, I was still kept safe within the confines of The Family. Not as much as the other girls. There were no girls-only schools or special wife training for me. They were probably worried that I’d die alone as no self-respecting capo would marry someone who brings death. I probably will die alone as a spinster anyway because we all know that after this somewhat delicious meal, I’ll watch a hot guy ass rape a dude, then I’ll fuck him and he’ll probably be so blown away by my pussy he’ll likely die on the spot. Or he’ll get hit by an errant bullet or a fat birdwill hurtle out of the sky and land on his head knocking him to the ground with enough force that he’ll hit the pavement and crack his head open.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
“An overweight bird falling from the sky, hitting you unawares. You falling to the ground, cracking your head open and dying on the pavement.”
He stares at me, blue eyes holding not a hint of judgement. “Has that, ah, happened to someone you know?”
I pluck deep fried shrimp from one of the take out boxes on the table and stuff it in my mouth so I don’t need to answer that question.
“Huh. What are the odds?”
I swallow my mouthful. “Higher than you might think,” I sigh.
He watches me thoughtfully as I shovel food into my face. Hey, I’ve not eaten since breakfast. If I don’t eat then how can I complain about thigh chafe in the summer?
