Page 3 of The Bones We Break
“Open your fucking mouth, I’m gonna’ paint every inch of your slutty face with my cum and you’re going to take it, aren’t you?”
She whimpers, but doesn’t dare go against me and nods slightly before opening her mouth, sticking her pink tongue out over her bottom teeth. I run a hand up and down the length of my veiny cock, and blow my load all over her face. The white, sticky substance starts to clump into her fake eyelashes, practically gluing her eyelids shut. My cum starts to run down her face like a melted candle, the slimy substance starting to resemble wax droplets before it lands on her tongue.
Once I’m done, I tuck my semi hard cock back into my black trousers and fasten the belt buckle. Before the whore gets up to leave, I grab her jaw tightly in my hand, she squeaks a timid sound whilst managing to peel her eyelids open. I keep a vice-like grip on her lower jaw which will more than likely leave a bruise, and shove my fingers into her mouth, pushing what’s left of my cum from her tongue down her throat. I’m pretty sure I can feel her tonsils and the ridges of her side walls in her throat as she gags around my thick fingers. Before she can expel whatever’s in her stomach, I pull my fingers out, leaving a trailof saliva behind, then wipe the back of my glistening fingers on the side of her cheek that has somehow dodged my sticky artwork.
“Clean yourself up and get the fuck out of my office.” I speak firmly to her, dismissing her with my words.
“Yes, Mr. De Rossi.” She fumbles over her words. Scrambling to her feet, she leaves quicker than I came.
I can still feel the residual high from the cocaine, my nerve endings tingle in my nose and gums. Dragging a hand through my hair, I push it back off of my face, then take a heavy seat in the dark, leather chair at my desk. Nothing like a blowy and a bump to get me going. My thoughts are quickly interrupted by my office door swinging open, almost smacking into the side wall.
“What the fuck happened to knocking before entering?!” I raise my voice to my right hand man, Nico. “I could have been doing anything in here!” I remark. Nico waltzes in like he owns the fucking joint. His stern eyes meet mine and I know he has the information I requested, so I’ll let it slide this one time. He’s lucky that I didn’t blow his fucking head from his shoulders the moment he stepped in the room.
“Boss, we both know what you get up to in this office, it’s nothing we haven’t seen. Or heard before.” My brows furrow, but I know he’s right. It’s my office. My building. My fucking company. Anyone who dares to cross me will find a bullet lodged in the back of their heads. This fucker is lucky that I trust him with my life, so I bypass his comment, moving the conversation along.
“Did you get what I asked for?” My patience is beginning to wear thin.
Nico nods once and places a black folder on the desk infront of me, then takes a seat at the opposing chairs in front of the desk, before crossing his ankle over his knee. The blade he carries everywhere, peeking from beneath his trousers.
I open the folder, finding exactly what I need. “Found you.” I mumble to myself, my eyes laser focused on the details in front of me. Scanning the page, noting an older couple’s picture attached to the top with a paperclip. I remove the picture to take a closer look. It’s been taken from afar with a long lens camera. The details are a little grainy, but I recognise the man’s face instantly.Michael fucking Murphy, with his wife Sienna. My jaw ticks, tension spreading along my neck.
This man is up to his eyeballs in fucking debt. He came across my name a couple of weeks ago, practically begging on his knees for money. Once we’d made the deal for him to give me the money back, I told the fucker his life belonged to me now, and I meant it. I’ve taken his excuses for far too long. I will no longer be compliant. I want my pound of flesh. I deserve it. Dropping the photo on the desk, no longer wishing to look at it, I pick the rest of the papers up. Browsing over the details, address, bank accounts, place of work, the usual shit, but my eye catches on a small section at the bottom.A daughter.
Annabelle Murphy.
“Nico. Find me their daughter, now. I want to know every single detail about her. Where she works, where she sleeps, where she takes a fucking piss. Everything.”
My mind is on overdrive and I feel the sweat beading on my neck. Nico stands up from his seat, regards me, and leaves. I crack my neck from side to side, feeling the popping of bones and muscles, then take another quick bump of the white powder that’s scattered across my desk like a snow scene. Anything to take the edge off of my raging nervous system. Before I’ve even had the chance to get my thoughts together, Nico walks backinto the room with another black folder. This is exactly what I pay him for. The folder in question slaps on to the desk, and I waste no time prying open the pages. There she is. And fuck me, she’s a nice piece of ass too. I read the details of her life, making sure to soak up every ounce of information.
Twenty Four. Five foot five. Shoulder length blonde hair, works as an assistant at Franklin and Co. Drives a shitty Ford, and lives in the run down apartments about two miles from here. Right on my doorstep. Nico’s voice cuts through the air, cutting me off.
“Boss, she’s also going to Crimson’s opening tomorrow night.” My mouth lifts into a malicious smirk. I don’t need to voice my deadly thoughts, he already knows them.
This woman will be my pound of flesh, and her waste of space parents will have no say in the matter. If they think they can just duck out of this debt without any consequences, they’re sorely mistaken.
I already know my hair is going to resemble a bird’s nest that’s been thrown from a tree during gale force winds. That’s what I get for leaving it to air dry alongside fighting an unknown enemy in my sleep. The morning sunlight starts to peek through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room, the rays catching the glass suncatchers hanging from the window to create a mirage of shapes along the walls. Crusted saliva sticks to the side of my face, leaving a crumbly white line down my jaw. I rub it away with the back of my hand and peel myself out of bed.I need coffee, stat.
Sliding my feet into my black slippers that are covered in neon yellow smiley faces, I make my way into the living room whilst grabbing my robe on the way out. I slip my arms through the soft fabric, tie it at the waist, then shuffle into the kitchen like a living dead zombie. I can already taste the roasted coffee beans on my tongue as soon as I flick the kettle on to start boiling. The water starts to bubble and steam rises from the spout leaving a patch of condensation on the kitchen cupboards above it. Once I’ve located my favourite mug, there’s a design printed on the side that has the phrase‘horror movies and chill’, the words surrounded by knives and little Ghostfaces, from the cupboard, I plop a healthy amount of coffee into the bottom of the mug, followed by a little sweetener. The kettle starts to come to a slow boil, indicating that the water is hot enough to burnthrough my entire being, just how I like it. Opening the fridge to grab the half empty milk container, I pour a splash into the swirling brown liquid, then give it a quick stir with a spoon, and tap the side of the mug twice before putting it into the sink. The aromas waft up into my nostrils as I bring the mug to my lips and sip tentatively, trying not to scald my tongue, humming pleasantly at the roasted taste.
My phone chimes with a notification, the noise shaking me out of my blissful moment. Locating it on the coffee table where I left it last night before I passed out, I scroll through the notifications, deleting irrelevant emails before noticing the dating app I signed up to a couple of weeks ago is dryer than the desert. Where can a girl find a decent guy around here? I brush the thought away, trying to not let it sour my mood. I’ve had flings in the past, but nothing serious has ever come from them and they all seem to want the same thing, which is cool if that’s what you’re into, but I want something meaningful, something real. Something like my books, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.
There’s a notification from the girls group chat. I breeze over the details, skimming through the messages of the book we’ve been reading to avoid spoilers and the TikTok videos I’ve yet to catch up on, no doubt containing thirst traps of masked men. I dip out of the group chat and open Ellie’s message.
Shaking my head I smile to myself. Ellie’s been trying to get me into the dating scene for a while now. After her and Jake got together I’ve kinda been the third wheel, which is cool, I’m happy for my best friend. But to be wanted, that would be nice too. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I send off a quick message.
Her reply comes instantly.
I run a hand down my face, laughing inwardly at her reply. I can already see her now cringing over the comment. Quickly checking the time at the top of the phone, it’s still early. I’ve got a couple of hours to kill before I have to get ready for Crimson’s opening night. My stomach tingles with nerves. I’d like to think I’m an outgoing person, but sometimes that isn’t always the case. Meeting new people, walking into a new space is nerve wracking sometimes, but I refuse to back out and let Ellie down and plus, would it be such a bad thing to let my inhibitions go for a night? Maybe experience a man’s touch for the first time, even if it is in a club? I let my thoughts wander for a moment before replying to Ellie’s message.
Placing my phone back down on the coffee table, I reach for the TV remote to catch up on my favourite shows. After a while I feel my eyelids grow heavy, the softness of the sofa cushions and blanket dragging me under into a quiet slumber.
My eyelids flutter open, the sound of the TV still playing away to itself in the background. Shit. I must have slept pretty heavily.It takes me a minute to get my bearings before lifting my head off the sofa and reaching for my phone on the table.5:00pm. The time from the screen glaring back at me. I slept all day? I pocket the phone in my robe and rub my fists into my eyes, causing a glittering scene to bloom behind my eyelids, then turn the TV off before heading into the bathroom, turning the shower on to warm it up before meandering into my bedroom to hunt down the dress and shoes I’ll be wearing. I open the closet doors and run my fingers over the different materials and clothing hung up until I locate the dress and pull it out, noticing it still has the tags on. Digging into the bottom of the closet, I find my favourite pair of black heels and pull them free of their confines, then lay them on the bed next to the dress. The thick, leather platform heel adds at least another 5 inches to my height. The shoes have a black strap with a buckle that wraps around the ankle, hanging from the strap are silver chains, adding a dark but sexy look to the shoe.
Once my ‘everythingshower’ is complete, I take the time to really dry my blonde locks before pinning them into place to give them a bouncy curl, then slip into the dress. It sits just above the knee with a wrap accent at the front to cover my stomach, but also accentuates my curves. I pull the off shoulder sleeves onto my arms and fasten the zip at the side. The sweetheart neckline is doing wonders for my cleavage, if I do say so myself. Carefully, I slide my feet into the heels and fasten the buckle and strap around my ankle, my black polished toes peeking out the front. After unpinning my hair, I let it fall in bouncy waves over my shoulders, framing my face like a gold halo. My makeup is simple, but effective. A sharp, black, winged liner is painted on my eyelid with military precision, lashes and a nude lip. My phone pings, alerting me that the uber has arrived and I take one last look in the mirror making sure everything is in place, then grab my clutch on the wayout, stuffing it with my phone, purse, and keys, then leave my apartment to make my way down the stairs to the ground floor, slowly so as to not break my neck in these heels, then shuffle my way over to the Uber, sliding into the back seat.
“Crimson bar, right?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
