Her smile drops, and she briefly glances away. “Another time, we need to go, or we’ll be late for our movie.”
What the fuck happened and why isn’t she dying to talk to me about it?
“You win this time, but you’re telling me eventually.”
She nods quietly and collects her trash, then escapes anymore conversation by going and throwing everything away.
I swear he better not have hurt her already.
VIKING
Three days later…
Thursday rolls around beforeI know it and fuck if I don’t want to admit it, but I’m looking forward to seeing Princess. If I’m real about it, I’ve been thinking about her non-stop since I left her place. It’s taken everything in me these past four days to leave her alone and not show up unannounced again.
I haven’t completely left her alone, though. This app that Spider hooked me up with is like my secret weapon. Tracking her has been a fucking dream come true. Every place she drives to and stops, it logs on my phone with the complete addresses. Then there’s the listening feature; I’ve been able to turn it on at random times and catch her voice. She can’t hear me, which is perfect.
Fuck, I can’t wait to listen to her moan when I’m inside her later.
With four days apart now, I assumed my attraction for her would dim and I’d be able to cut her off, now having had a taste. I’m a fucking fool. Staying away has driven me mad. I’m irritated about everything, grouchier than usual, and when I manage to fall asleep, I dream of her every damn time. Probably doesn’t help that my bed smells like her flowery scent.
It’s constant, utter fucking torture knowing what she looks like sleeping next to me and wishing she were in my bed, or how silky her skin feels when it’s up against mine, and how hot her tight cunt feels squeezing the cum right out of me. That bitch fucking owns me. I know it already, and soon my brothers will also. If anything, that’s pissing me off even more.
Being a Nomad is my life. I love being an outlaw and doing whatever the fuck I want, never being judged for scalping a motherfucker who crosses me. Right now Princess stares at me like I’m a god or some shit, but I know eventually that light will fade away, and she’ll look at me with blackness, finally seeing the type of poison I really am.
When I was growing up, I dealt with that look from my mother, but my father couldn’t give two fucks. He’s even darker than I am. But Princess is my exception. I would hang myself or slit my goddamn throat if I ever saw the poison shadowing in her gaze.
With those thoughts, I angrily storm across the street to the bar. I’m early; I know she won’t be here for a while, but I need whiskey and a lot of it. It won’t solve my issues, but it’ll help drown out any guilty feelings I’m having. I’ve turned off my conscience; I’ve had to, in order to become the ruthless bastard that I am today.
Princess, though, she lights a fucking fire inside my chest and with the many chances of me damaging her eventually, I need to start drowning it out now. When it comes down to it, I know that no matter how much I tell myself that I’m no good for her, I don’t fucking care. I want her, and I’ll have her.
“Whiskey. Double. Neat,” I demand as my ass hits the stool and Stacy’s eyes grow wide.
“No problem, would you like a beer too?”
“No. Keep them coming or give me the fucking bottle.”
She nods, rushing to pour me half a small glass. Placing it dutifully in front of me, she stares up at me a little frightened. I almost feel like I should pat her on her head and tell her good job, so she doesn’t piss her pants. I don’t, however; instead, I grunt and swallow back the entire beverage, placing the glass down louder than necessary.
“Another one?” she asks before reaching for the tumbler.
“Did I stutter?”
“Okay then. You’ve had a shit day, and I know you’re not driving, so how about I just keep pouring them until you’ve had enough?”
“Good girl.” I nod, and she pours a hefty amount of the spicy, amber liquid.
Saint plops down next to me, sending Stacy a dazzling smile. Her face brightens at his light ash colored irises and good ol’ boy charade he has her fooled with.
“Rough day brother?” He questions, gesturing to my liquor as Stacy places his Captain and Coke down. “Thanks, sweetheart.” Saint winks and she flutters away in a daze.
“It is what it is, man.”
“That’s the fucking truth.” He sighs and takes a hefty gulp.
“You got Sinner hiding in your ass somewhere or what?”
“Fuck you. He’ll be over later.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not ready to hit the road yet? Usually, you’re restless by now.”