He teased my breasts from behind as he fucked me faster and faster. I gasped, arching my back. He grabbed my hair and took me, sliding deeper, his body massive behind mine. I felt overwhelmed and dominated, and I kept saying his name as the only thing I could feel was pleasure. All the horror was gone, all the blood was gone, washed away down the drain, taken away by Steven’s cock, his hands, his lips.
I gasped as I felt my orgasm peak. I came as he slid himself deep inside. He growled in my ear and thrust faster, pushing me over my limits as my fingers curled against the tile wall. I shook, shuddered, moaned his name as he slammed into me again and again. His roar drove me wild and I felt my orgasm crest and slowly fade.
He slid himself back and turned me around. I dropped to my knees as he stroked himself. I took him into my mouth, sucked him three times, sliding him deep into my throat, and he came on the fourth. He filled my mouth and I moaned, swallowed him, his massive cock twitching on my lips. I licked him clean before he pulled me up and pinned me against the tile wall again. He kissed me, tongue against my tongue, and I held him tight.
We stood there in the shower, steam rising around us. I stared into his eyes and he held my hair in his palm, his other hand on my hip. His cock was still stiff as he stared at me.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said.
He clenched his jaw and I could see anger and pain in his eyes. I realized with a start that he just lost one of his soldiers, and I could only guess at the way he was feeling in that moment.
I reached up and touched his face.
“Go down there,” I said. “Go be with them.”
“I have to… have to take care of him. Get rid of his body. We’ll bury an empty casket, but he’ll get a funeral.” He let out a breath. “I’ll take care of his mother and his sister, too. They’ll never want for anything.”
“Good.” I kissed his neck. “Good, you’ll take care of everything.”
He pulled me away and his eyes roamed my body before he kissed me again then stepped out of the shower. He toweled himself off, gave me one last look, then left the room.
I watched him go then slid back down to the floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest and let the hot water flow down my head, down my shoulders, and into the drain.
When I closed my eyes, I saw Davide again, slumped forward and lifeless.
17
Colleen
We parked outside of a simple rowhome with a brick front facade and empty window boxes. The door was red and the stoop was in good shape, like it had been redone in the last few years. Steven stared at the door for a long moment before taking a deep breath.
“Do they know already?” I asked.
He nodded. “Luca told them right after it happened.”
“That’s good,” I said. “You don’t have to break it to them then.”
He didn’t smile, just kept staring. I followed his gaze and wondered about those window boxes. I wondered if they’d once held flowers, and if they were empty because the flowers had died, or if Davide’s mother just didn’t much care about filling them up anymore.
It had only been a day since the drive by and Davide’s death. I kept seeing him slumped forward, kept feeling the sticky blood on my face and skin. I couldn’t get it out of my head, and I knew Steven was torn up about it even if he refused to talk. I tried to bring it up, but he simply ignored me and pretended like he hadn’t heard what I said.
I looked back at him and felt a strange surge of protectiveness. I wanted to shield him from this, but I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I owed him anything, wasn’t like any of this was my fault. If anything, this was the right thing to do, and yet I wanted to bring Steven back home and keep him away from anything that might hurt him.
Strange, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Come on,” he said, opening the door.
I hesitated then followed. I didn’t expect to go in with him, but if he needed me then I’d show up for him.
He walked to the simple red door and knocked. We waited a moment until a woman answered. She wore a simple cardigan, black trousers, and her eyes were puffy and red from crying. She had a tissue in her right hand, and her dark hair was pulled up into a messy, loose bun.
“Steven,” she said.
“Hello, Martha. Could we come in?”
Her eyes moved to me. “Who’s she?”
“This is Colleen,” he said. “She was there. I thought…” He trailed off and gestured, like that filled in the gaps.
Marta looked at me then turned away. “Come in,” she said.
She led us into a simple Philly rowhome. The layout was similar to Steven’s, though it was a little bit smaller. The living room was carpeted and religious paintings hung on the walls. The television was on mute and played a tennis match that I couldn’t pay attention to. It smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol, even though everything looked immaculate and neat. There was a bookcase with small trinkets on it, a porcelain baby doll, a little wooden manger scene, and a few different copies of the bible.
“Sit, please,” Martha said. She gestured at the kitchen table and her hand trembled just a little bit. “Can I get you anything? Tea or
