Page 19 of In the Grey of Dawn

It's not exactly ideal for Porter to be in? was in? associated? or whatever he is with the mafia, especially with the amount of wounds I've had to fix on Dimi, but it's also comforting to know that it's onlythis.

He's not an exotic animal smuggler or something like that where I would have no idea how to navigate it. He'sjustin the mafia.

I wonder which one?

“He's got a nickname and everything,” Mila says, as she continues to eat her chips.

“Baby, please stop,” Dante groans.

“What's the name again, his nickname? The babymaker? The widow destroyer?” she says nonchalantly, pulling a second tub of sour cream toward her and patting the lid of it like a puppy, content in knowing she has another.

Rubbing his hand across his face, he looks to the ceiling before facing me, still holding Mila in his arms.

“He'sVdovets. The Widowmaker. And he's gonna kill me for telling you that,” Dante groans.

“Stop being dramatic, he's not going to kill anyone. It's fine,reallyit's fine. I won’t say a thing to him now or maybe ever. We're not together, remember. He doesn't want me like that,” I murmur, as I lay my head on the cool bench top.

“You know what you should do to get his attention,” Ace says, perking up at what he's about to say. “You need to go on a date at the bar, show him that if he's not going to make a movethen you're going to find someone who will. You know, pussy power and all that.”

“Ace, for the love of all the gods, please stop watchingSex and the Citywhen you stay over,” Nova whines, crossing the room to stand next to him, letting him pull her into a hug.

I don't know if he's being serious or not but this could be the best worst idea in the making. I feel like Ace saying this is a sign from the universe that I should push Porter a little bit, meet up with some random person on a date?He said I should, after all.

Chapter 12 - Porter

It’s been four days since Charlie helped me out by serving drinks behind the bar when my usual bar girl, Mel, called in sick.

Being able toaccidentallyrub against her was heaven. No matter how small the reason, as long as I could justify it. To feel her in some way throughout the evening, was a cruel type of punishment, leaving my cock hard and heavy.

The amount of times I almost yelled out for everyone tofuck off and leaveso I could take her over and over until I was fully satisfied. I tortured myself that entire evening until I couldn't resist her any longer and when I eased my body in behind her everything faded away and it was just the two of us. It wasn’t until she was panting in my arms and I was licking my fingers, savouring her taste that the sense of dread came over me.

After everything I said, I watched her walk to the front door and look back over her shoulder at me. The sad smile of acceptance across her face.

I've pushed her away.

This is a punishment of my own doing.

This is my penance.

I took a bottle from the liquor shelf that night and climbed the stairs to my apartment, ready to face my demons as the darkness crept in.

Over the years I started to welcome the pain it brought me but since Charlie, it only serves as a warning that everything I choose to love, dies.

The reminder of a lone woman hanging from the rafters of the apartment I had purchased for us to move into. The soft dripping of blood hitting the floor as it fell from where her wrists had been cut.

It’s a scar in my memory that I will never forget, and I need to use the pain it gives me to remind myself why it’s better for both of us that nothing ever starts between Charlie and I.

Taking a breath to collect my thoughts I walk the length of the bar, spotting Charlie sitting at the end in her usual spot. She looks different tonight. Her hair is down in tousled waves and she has a little makeup on, gloss accentuating her full lips. Tight black jeans hug her thick thighs, with a low cut top and fuck me boots ending just over her knees.

She’s never not been beautiful to me. It doesn’t matter if she's just finished work, hair all messy with the tiredness of the day creeping in; or dressed up for a wedding, her pussy dripping as she confidently walks away from me, my cum running down her thighs and her head held high. So whatever it is that she’s doing here tonight, I already know I'm not going to like it.

“Don't say a thing,” she sasses, already telling me off for the scowl I can feel is etched on my face. Circling the bar I waste no time in caging her in, her body leaning back as she sits comfortably in front of me. Her legs spread so I can stand between them, my arms on either side of her, leaning closer until I'm wrapped in her calming vanilla and jasmine scent. Thetension in my shoulders loosens as I take a deep breath trying to focus on what she’s about to tell me.

“Do you know how many women are attacked, abused, taken advantage of and raped every year while dating?” She blurts out quickly. Tilting my head at her I try to maintain a sense of calm, my knuckles turning white as I dig my fingers into the bar.

“Did something happen? Give me their name?” I growl. It’s not even a question ofifI will hurt them, it's more one of how painfully I caneradicatethem.

My old knives are oiled and freshly sharpened. Despite not needing them for any real purpose these days I still find it therapeutic to maintain them.

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