Page 29 of Krampus Kruk
I collapse into the bed, closing my eyes, basking in the euphoria.
“Pushing this back in, baby girl,” he says as two fingers enter me, “so you can smell me tomorrow.”
I close my eyes, internally screaming. He is fucking nasty. No,weare nasty. Cue theI’ve been a nasty girlaudio, because I am smiling too much right now.
22
Ineed a cigarette. Shit. Fuck. That was something else. I smirk, staring down at her as she lies on her belly with her eyes closed. She’s spent.
I lean across the bed, open my night table’s drawer, and grab a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Sitting up, I pull two pillows behind me.
Adjusting them, I ask, “Want one?” as I extend the pack to her.
“No thanks,” she says with a slight giggle.
“This is far from being the naughtiest thing about tonight.” I chuckle then light my cigarette. Taking a long drag, I reminisce. “Your generation missed out on this, having a cigarette after sex.”
She rolls to her side, propping her head up in her hand, watching me.
“It’s the best kind of cigarette.” I blow the smoke away from her before I lean down to find an ashtray.
I miss smoking.I haven’t smoked in months, but this occasion calls for it. Nothing beats a coffee and cigarette in themorning, but fucking mortality. It was an easy thing to quit in hopes of lasting longer.
“I haven’t had a cigarette since college,” she says into the silence.
I smirk, grab for the box, and extend it toward her again.
“So much peer pressure,Krampus.” She laughs, taking a cigarette.
I reach for the lighter and spark it for her, holding a long look as the end starts to burn.
“How Parisian,” she jokes, moving the pillows to sit upright in bed.
We silently puff, exchanging long looks and flirty glances.
“I’m having a lot of fun,” she finally says.
“Me too.” I reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“So, you were in the mafia …” she says with a questioning edge.
“We’re not talking about that.”
“Oh, come on!” She swats my chest. “I’ve told you so much about myself.”
I take another drag, thinking about something I can share. “The bar we met at—I bought it about forty years ago. It was the first business I ever bought, and since then, I’ve built, sold, and acquired countless others.”
“Are you saying you’re a businessman, not a criminal?” she teases, straddling me.
“They’re one and the same.”
Memories flood in.I don’t miss that stress, that’s for sure.
She laughs then leans over to put out her cigarette in the ashtray. I take the opportunity to kiss her ribs, my lips grazing over the imperfect tattoo.
“Imperfect. Why are you a liar?” I ask as she meets my gaze again.
She squints at me. “I’m not perfect.”
