Page 4 of Loyalties & Longings

“Be ready to leave in about an hour, please,Bella,” Dad calls out to me as I race off to have a shower and get ready.

I want to be looking and smelling at least halfway decent, seeing as I’m going to pick up the man I had such a huge crush on all those years ago.

Bounding into the bathroom, I turn and lock the door beforereaching into the shower recess to turn on the water. Hot, itmustbe hot. Not hot like, yeah nice and toasty warm, but hot as in, I come from the depths of hell, and the only way I feel good and clean is if my skin feels like it is being scalded, almost as though it’s melting off my muscles.

Standing in front of the mirror as the shower warms up, I stare myself dead in the eyes and give myself an internal pep talk. I can do this. He was so hot back when I was a teen. And while most guys get uglier as they get older, some age like a fine wine or a sharp, vintage cheese. They only get better with age. If that’s the case with Blaze, I’m screwed.

The real problem, I think while shaving my underarms and legs, is that I haven’t had a good orgasm in quite a few days. I actually lost count after four days. I need one to help me relax and unwind, but I’ve been too busy with college and helping out my father that, at the end of the day, I’m too exhausted for self-love. Finding someone tohelpme is also out of the question. I don’t have time for a casual hookup, let alone a relationship.

My past fuckboys, because let’s face it, a girl has needs, always got turned off or ran away scared of my sexual preferences. It can be a bit much for the average person who likes average sex. Meaning not many people are able to handle my…tastes.

Sex is my escape, and I love having it, especially the real kinky shit. I’m not talking about dress-ups and feather duster kinky and not even a little paddling and handcuffs kind of stuff.

No, the shit I’m into would make most people think I need a psych evaluation.

The two guys who I have tried to make my go-to men when I need sex with a warm body just can’t please me. God love them, they try, but they are so plain and simple between the sheets.

The riskiest they would get is doing me doggy.

I mean, doggy-style is good and all, but it’s still not enough.

The first fuckboy ran because I wanted to have sex on arailway line. He was like, ‘Nope, that’s never going to happen. We are done.’

The second guy would sometimes pull my hair a little, but not enough to hurt. The first time I asked him to choke me, he went soft.

Soft.

I literally felt him go limp inside me. That was awesome,not.

The second time I tried to guide his hand to my neck while we were doing doggy-style, the same thing happened. He proceeded to tell me I was ‘fucked in the head.’ Needless to say, our arrangement didn’t last much longer after that.

The funny thing is, I’m not sure I would even enjoy these things, but damn if the thought of it doesn’t turn me on. For once, I just want someone to at least try with me,forme.

Deciding I don’t have enough time for some quick self-love, I step out of the shower and reach for my towel, thinking about what I am going to wear to this prison pickup as I walk to my room.

Stepping into my closet, I grab a pair of my favorite skinny jeans, skipping underwear altogether. I don’t need panties, right? I reach for one of the flowing camis I don’t need to wear a bra with. Not that I would want to—the weather is starting to cool down now that we’re at the tail end of summer. The days are still getting somewhat hot, though, and more layers means more reason to be uncomfortable and sweaty. No thanks. Luckily, my breasts are just the right size to not look like they’re sagging without a bra, but they are enough to be a handful.

Walking back into the kitchen, I look at the time, noticing I have about half an hour to spare. I’m kicking myself for not trying to rub a quick orgasm out. I look up while smoothing down the bottom of my cami and come eye to eye with none other than my dad’s slimeball of a right-hand man, Massimo.

His eyes run up and down my body, lingering a little too longon my chest. He licks his lips and lifts the upper one into a slight sneer.

My breakfast feels as though it’s about to make a second appearance. Somehow, I manage to keep it down and give him a tight-lipped smile. I almost want to go and have another shower to rinse off his disgusting gaze.

“Good morning, Lakey,” Massimo says with lust in his eyes and dripping from his voice. Eww, as if he even still calls me that. I understood the nickname when I was younger, kind of, but I’m twenty-two for goodness sake.

Whenever I hear his voice, I envision a silo filled to the brim with rats, cockroaches, and maggots. The need to vomit overcomes me, and I barely manage to keep my composure as a shudder of repulsion tears through my body.

“Morning,” I reply curtly, crossing my arms in front of my chest to hide what I can from his prying eyes while minding my manners because Dad is busy making Massimo a coffee. The words are far from the curses and profanity I want to throw at him. I consider running back upstairs to grab a cardigan.

Dad turns back around with a smile for me, handing Massimo his coffee.

“Massimo can’t make it out with us today to pick up Blaze,” Dad remarks. Okay, good, so I won’t need a cover-up.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that, Enzo. I’ve had something come up last minute,” Massimo says flatly, not an ounce of sincerity in his voice.

What on earth could have come up?

I know for a fact he has spent most of his life at my dad’s side and is not interested in having a family. More likely, he is only interested in fucking all the sorry excuses for girls that throw themselves at him. They only do it in hopes he will give them drugs in return, which I’m sure he does. Why else would they want to even be close to him, let alone have him inside them?

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