I don’t answer right away. Every instinct is telling me to make sure she gets home safe, and I set my jaw, meeting her gaze. She returns it, unwavering for a moment, then just a hint of doubt passes her face, her brows faltering, going flat. She’s tough, I know that. I’ve known it since I met her when I was eighteen. But there’s more here, there’s something she doesn’t want me to see, or something she doesn’t want me to know.
“I’ll meet you at Coney Island tomorrow,” she says. “Okay?”
Finally I nod unhappily. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Chapter 4 – Val
I don’t do as she asks. I can’t. Let her walk home alone with her kid sister and just go home to sleep in my luxury waterfront suite? That’s not respecting a woman’s wishes, that’s forgetting what it means to be a man. I may have moved on from the life I once led, but I haven’t forgotten what her father once taught me when he took me under his wing: loyalty, no matter the cost.
It’s why I never said a word against the family, even when it meant serving three years in prison.
And it’s why I have to discreetly follow Scamp back to Livernois.
Except that’s not where she goes.
I remember where their house is, or at least was, but instead of heading there she and her sister turn towards downtown. I catch fragments of their conversation as I follow, her sister asking who I really am and why they didn’t tell me the truth. Scamp’s answer hurts, that she isn’t sure yet if she can trust me. I don’t blame her, but it still hurts. I’ll prove to her that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. She tells Pip that I used to work for their father and might still work for him, and that makes me pause. So she has a reason not to trust her father? If he’s hurt them, either of them, I’ll kill him. I’ll find him and make him pay. Loyalty be damned, my first priority is the two of them, not him.
Keeping a safe distance, I follow them all the way to a hotel. It’s a bit shabby, but it looks serviceable enough, and I am somewhat satisfied, though it leaves me with more questions. Why aren’t they living at home? And if they had to leave because of something their father did, why not leave the city entirely?
Although the thought of them leaving before Scamp came back into my life makes me want to punch a hole in someone.
Paying off the desk clerk gets me their room number, and a good idea of where it’s situated, then I head back outside. I call for a car on my business account, then dismiss the driver and sit across the road, watching for any signs of danger, keeping an eye on their room.
I glimpse Scamp once before their light goes out, standing at the window. For a moment, I think perhaps she’s spotted me, as her green eyes turn directly toward the car where I’m sat and it feels like we make eye contact. Then she turns, I get a flash of pink hair before the curtain is drawn, and their room is plunged into darkness.
After that, I sit there for another hour, watching, but all seems quiet so I finally drive back to my building in downtown and take the elevator up to my suite. My cock is already at full mast as I ride up, thinking about her, about the way her eyes fell on me as I sat across the road from her. I slip the button of my pants through its hole and get my hand inside my boxers, closing my eyes in relief as I massage my aching cock to thoughts of her. The image of her face is burned into the backs of my eyes. The freckles over her nose, the way her head is framed by that auburn and pink hair. Obsessive? Absolutely. Bordering on stalker behavior in fact, but I can’t help myself. With her, I’m no longer in control.
When I finally get inside my suite, I can’t hold back any longer. I collapse onto the leather couch and jack off to thoughts of Scamp. Imagine sliding the zipper of her hoodie down, stripping her of her shorts, watching her eyes light up as I run the head of my cock over the soft flesh between her hips, drawing closer, closer, closer…
“Fuck,” I murmur. “Scamp, the things you do to me. The things you make me do.”
It doesn’t take long before I come in a fucking fountain, grunting as waves of pleasure shoot through me. It isn’t enough. My load should have been shared with her. Cleaning up with tissues isn’t the same as watching her covered in the proof of my need, but for now it will have to do.