That became a ritual. Not every night, but most nights she’d come in in this skimpy little outfit, sometimes low cut, sometimes skin tight, and we’d watch TV in silence. I’d spend the whole time picturing the filthy, delicious things I could do to her body, and she pretended like she didn’t notice me staring. It drove me wild and only made me want her even more.
She knew what she was doing. There was nothing subtle about it. She could feel the tension as much as I could, and she knew what it meant.
Even if she didn’t want to admit it, I knew my little Leigh was parading herself around the house at night to tempt me into doing something aggressive, something that crossed the line—something that felt damn good.
I kept control of myself. It wasn’t easy, but we had bigger shit to do than fuck each other senseless. I had to stay sharp like a monk in his cave meditating on the size of the universe. Except I was no monk, and I really wanted to meditate on the feeling of her slick pussy sliding down my rock hard shaft.
After the third week, I felt like I might explode. All that pent up energy from each night drove me wild, and I knew what she wanted, what she was thinking.
It was a Monday afternoon when I finally lost it.
I dropped her off that morning like usual. She smiled at me, blew me a kiss, and laughed when I caught it. She thought it was funny to fuck with me.
But around noon, a few hours later, I came back with a big black duffel bag. I parked out front and carried the bag inside slung over a shoulder.
“Hey, boss,” Sander said from behind his bullet proof coffin. “What you doin’ here?”
“Go take a break,” I said. “Close up for an hour.”
He frowned and hesitated. “Uh, you want me to leave? The girl’s still back there. You want—”
“Go get lunch for an hour, Sander.” I stared at him until he moved.
“You got it.”
I waited until he flipped the Open sign to Closed and disappeared down the block. I locked the door and headed toward the back. The sound of the TV drifted through the door and up the hall as I approached. She was watching a Friends rerun when I stepped into the room and caught her eye.
Surprise flicked across her face. Then her expression turned to confusion.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sander’s on break. We need to talk.” I dropped the bag on a table covered in dry goods. Toilet paper rolls leaned precariously to one side.
She sat up straight and muted the TV. “Okay, sure. What’s going on?”
I gestured at the bag. “We’re making some changes.”
“What kind of changes?” I heard the edge in her voice.
“This isn’t working. This whole wait and see thing, it’s not enough.”
Her eyebrow knit together. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
“It is, but plans change. I want to speed things along a little bit. Not too much, but just a nudge in the right direction.
She shifted in her seat. “Okay, right. What’s that mean then?”
I unzipped the duffel and opened it. I tilted it toward her so she could see inside. “We’re going to start selling again.”
Her jaw clenched. I knew she wouldn’t be happy about this, but she was even worse at hiding it than I expected. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, back rigid.
“Is that really a good idea?”
“Word needs to spread that you’re back in business. Leaving you in here and putting a few rumors out there’s fine, but it’s not enough. I need to be seen pushing product again and flaunting it in Clifton’s face, which means you need to start seeing customers.”
“So I’m your little drug whore then.”
I smirked and put the bag down. I couldn’t help myself. I liked the idea of her as my drug whore, although she meant it in a very different way than I pictured it.
“You’re my partner.” I walked toward her, head tilted to one side, hands rubbing together. “Remember you’re getting paid for every sale we make. You take a cut. That cash goes into your pocket.”
“And I’m the one hung out to dry when the Jackals come calling.”
I spread my hands then. “You were always bait, darling.”
“Still pisses me off.”
“When are you going to accept your role?”
“Probably never.” She looked away. “Remember that I never asked for any of this.”
“True enough.” I walked toward her then leaned forward placing one hand on the back of the couch. I loomed over her, getting close enough to smell the faint whiff of her shampoo. Lilacs and anise seed. “But here you are anyway. Very much a part of it.”
“So what? Playtime’s over? We get back to work?” She stared into my eyes and the way she said ‘playtime’ made my blood boil.
“Something like that.”
“And I can’t refuse, of course.”
“No, you can’t. You don’t get to sit here on your ass watching TV forever.”
Anger flashes across her face. Good, I wanted her to get mad. I wanted her pissed off and raging. Maybe she’d show a little life.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Yeah? What are you doing then, little diamond?” I leaned closer, temptation swimming in my veins. I wanted to kiss her plump bottom lip and taste her tongue. I wanted to make her whisper my name.
“I’ve been helping Sander.”
“That’s not your real job.”
“I know that. But what else am I supposed to do?”
“Now you’re supposed to sell my drugs and make me some fucking money.”
There it was again. Another flash of anger. Deeper, hotter.
“Go to hell. Don’t talk to me that way.”
I reached out
