He nods his head. “You probably wanna get it checked when you can.”
I don’t snort at him. What’s the point? He lives in a world where getting medical attention is no big deal. Even if I had the money for it, I can’t afford the questions.
But it won’t always be like that for me. One day, I’ll live in a place just like this, and on that day, I won’t have broken ribs and stab wounds. I’ll have an angel in my bed, though, just like him. Yes, that’s it: I’ll keep my lover in a place like this, and visit him whenever I want. I’ll have a place of my own, of course, where my lover never comes, because I won’t ever mix business and pleasure. But he’ll always be here, waiting, when I want him.
I’ll make my lover dye his hair pink and use words likeadamant.
“I need a cigarette before round two,” I say.
Chapter Five
FINCH
This guy.
This motherfucking guy.
I’m no tender virgin. I’ve been face-fucked before, and I’ve been treated like a cumhole before, and I like it fine, more than fine sometimes, butthis guy. The ego rolling off him is fucking heady, and then he has the cock to back it up: long and curved, thicker at the base, just the way I like it.
God, I likeeverythingabout him.
I like the way he pretends not to hurt. I do that too. Easier to hide the hurts than put up with people making a fuss. I have three older sisters and I’m the baby of the family, a late addition. You better believe I know what it’s like to be made a fucking fuss of.
Thisguy.
When he shot his load down my throat I found myself thinking,This is a guy I could really fall for.
“I need a cigarette before round two,” he says.
“On the desk.”
He doesn’t look back at me even once he finds and lights his cigarette. He wanders over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looks out over the lights of the city, the dark space of Central Park at night, the moon shining bright in the sky.
I roll off the bed and come over to him. He’s got my cum dripping down his back, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, and I like the thought of it just drying there, marking him until his next shower. I gesture out the window. “Look at this city,” I say. “What do you see?”
“Nothing. It’s dark out.”
I chuckle. He frowns, danger in his eyes. I want to see this guy in action. I can see what he has in him, deep down.
If only he could see it too.
“Baby,” I say gently, “you’re looking at your kingdom. Don’t you know you could rule this city, rule the fucking world?”
“You’re high.”
“Yep. But I’m also right.”
He frowns again, but this time it’s not anger. He’s thinking.
Then he moves like a whip, grabbing me by the throat and throwing me up against the window, hard. It shudders under the blow, and I give a strangled laugh. “You call me Lucifer,” he says, pressing his forehead into mine. “But I thinkyou’rethe devil, aren’t you? Taking me up to the top of the mountain and telling me I can have the whole world.”
“You can,” I croak. My cock’s getting hard again, even though I still feel like shit from the drugs, and I just emptied my balls all over this guy a few minutes ago. What the fuck is he doing to me?
He holds the lit cigarette up near my face, almost a threat, but not quite. He just takes another slow drag while he stares at me, then blows the smoke deliberately into my face.
I want to goad him. I want to make him throw me through this fucking window just so I can fly for a few seconds before I die; I’ll be thinking about his pretty eyes on the way down.
He doesn’t even know how dark he could go, this one. When I was a kid still running around the house in Boston I saw Mob bosses sitting with my father in his study, and every single one of them got me hard; even those old decrepit ones whose glory days were sometime around when Al Capone was still shitting his diapers.
