I cringed a little, but gave it right back to her.
“Oh, but how would I manage to make you pop off like Old Faithful?”
She nearly ran over poor Mrs. Porter to get to me, slapping anywhere she could while I giggled like a twelve-year-old girl all the way to the stairwell.
“How are you gonna get outta here unseen?”
I lingered on the bottom step and shrugged. “Same way I came.”
“Whichwas?”
“All over your lovely twat.”
She whisper-shouted my name as I bolted up the stairs. I did, however, manage to sneak out without anybody noticing me. I smiled my way across the street, checking my watch and waving at Desiree as she started unlocking the door to the cafe.
“Hey you! I don’t open for another little bit, but I can certainly make you a milkshake.”
Who says Mondays are bad?
CHAPTER 13
The Mortician
My adrenaline is still pumping, my body is sated and ready for round two, my mind is a complete disaster of clashing thoughts, and I feel Malek’s leftover cum sliding through myveryhappy cunt.
What the fuck just happened?
He hasn’t been gone five minutes, and I still feel him all over me. The chill of the room reminds me that my shirt’s still wide open, and the cooling sweat from our romp on that table is sending chills down my body. That was the single-most satisfying sexual experience I think I’ve ever had in mylife. I leaned back against the concrete wall at the end of the stairs and rested my head against it, closing my eyes and trying to come to terms with the fact that I just practically fucked my psycho, mob hitting stalker right next to a dead body in myparents’house. I honestly couldn’t stop the smile from taking on my mouth. A mouth that can still taste everything he spit into it.
I want more. So much more. I feel my need building back up. He just woke the dragon. I palmed my needy twat through my skirt, trying my best to settle her back down. When I opened my eyes, they went straight across the room to where the Girthmaster was still standing at attention just past Mrs. Porter’s covered feet. I palmed my forehead. This is insanity. What is this life?
On my walk over to do what I do best, and clean up the evidence, I started buttoning up my shirt. Flashes of everything we just did started playing back like a porno flick through myrattled mind and I distinctly remembered looking over at Mrs. Porter and mentally apologizing for my blatant disrespect—right before I came on Malek’s face. Watching him pull that cock out and unload between my legs almost rocked a full-out wave of aftershocks through me. Especially when a bit of it hung off the piercing at the tip of his head. I wanna say I put on a show for him, riding that dildo, but the truth is…I was having the time of my life, and for a few minutes, the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just me and the person who ironically enough…just fucking gets it. Understandsme. I’m reeling over the fact that we haven’t even had much of a conversation about what I’m used to in regards to men, but he snuck in here and waited in the dark for the sole purpose of gettingmeoff.
No direction.
No gimmicks.
No plans to close the deal.
No fucking filter.
Just raw, undiluted Malek.
I think that’s what finally broke my hold on the restraint I’ve had when it comes to him invading every part of my life. I’ve been telling myself that doing this job for him and looking out for Bridget is my ticket out of whatever spell I’m under, but it’s bullshit. I know it. I know that when it’s all over, there won’t be anycleaningMalek out of my life. He’s made it clear that it can’t be done, and I understand it now. He sold me on it the moment that I realized he didn’t come in here with any expectations other than satisfyingme.
I grabbed a plastic baggie out of a box in one of my drawers and stuffed the Girthmaster into it, hurrying over to stick it in my bag. I scrubbed up, changed my PPE, and blew out a deep slow breath, shaking my hands out and trying to come back to the now. Mrs. Porter isn’t gonna embalmherself.I got afresh pair of gloves and peeled back her sheet, shaking my head with a smirk.
“I’m so sorry. I know you understand, though. Twenty years without your man must have had some kind of effect on you. He’s fucking amazing, yeah?”
I think I ended up taking ten years off of her after draining over a liter of fluid from her frail body. Between that and simply embalming her, she looks dewy and youthful enough that I don’t even think she’ll need much in the way of makeup. Heart failure patients never look the same coming out of here as they did coming in. They’re another category of the ones that get some special treatment from me. Mrs. Porter’s great granddaughter requested a shade of nail polish too. It was sent in her personal items to be put on before we lay her in the casket. I’m taking my time on this mani. I think she’s earned it after what she had to be in attendance for this morning.
My music paused and I looked up to find Greg hopping off the last step.
“Hey, dude. You guys have a good time this weekend?”
He came to stand beside me, peering over my shoulder at Mrs. Porter’s pink nails.
“We did. Kept it simple. That looks good.” I heard him sniffing while I leaned closer to her hands, and tried to pretend I was unfazed while I continued to paint strokes. “What the hell is that smell?”
