Page 9 of The Sicuro

It wasn’t long after the incident that the bar started clearing out, by the end of my shift it was completely empty which wasn’t expected. As I was getting ready to leave, I started to wonder if he would be waiting for me. He wasn’t and I was disappointed, but after what happened it’s not surprising.

Will he still be picking me up tonight? It’s not like I have his number to get in touch andcheck. I walk home my mind overtaken by thoughts of him, should I go with him if he turns up at eight? If I say no what would happen? Why does he want to take me out? What does he want from me? I’m not a one-night stand girl, I have my toys for that. Not that I wouldn’t want to see what his body is like under those suits. If it’s anything like I imagine I’m sure I would self-combust. Even the sight of a small amount of his chest made my body call out to him. By the time I get to my door, my craving for him has my pussy begging to be fucked by more than just a toy, it hungers for him, the sensation of him, I want all of him and all I have is his name. Oh, and the numerous red flags that I am seemly happy to ignore.

I get home, deciding that I need to take a cold shower, that I need to get this man out of my head, and I am not giving in to the urges that he brings out of me. Convincing myself that he won’t show up tonight, I step under the cold water which makes me huff out a sharp breath. I spend the next ten minutes under it before turning the temperature to a more palatable one. I wash my hair and shave, I have always kept myself ‘presentable’, it’s something I found made me feel better about myself. By the time I’m out of the shower it has gone five, with my hair and body still wrapped in a towel I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine, sit on the couch and turn on Netflix. My gaze turns to the boxes that his driver passed me yesterday, still unopened, contemplating if I should open them.

Fuck it. I take a sip of my wine and open the large box. It is a dress, I pull it out and it’s beautiful. It’s black, sleeveless, floor length with a knee-high split on the left leg, a deep plunging neckline, and the back slightly pulled in, which I know is designed to enhance your rear. Holding it up I know that I would never be able to afford something like this, I hang it on the door and stare at it. I pick my wine up and take a large gulp. May as well open the other box. The shoes are out of this world, a silver strappy sandal, with a rigid strap that wraps around the ankle and slightly up my calf, the heel slightly thicker than a stiletto. I finish my wine and pour a second glass while looking at the outfit.

“Screw it, I’m getting ready,” I pronounce to my empty apartment. I dry and straighten my hair, taking my time with it after I realised it isn’t even six yet. I opt for minimal makeup, and when I am ready, I look in the floor-length mirror I have in my room. It’s like this dress was made for me, the way it hugs each curve, the plunging neckline stopping at the centre of my cleavage, the dress is a flawless fit and my tits sit proudly in it. The way it slides over my arse it doesn’t allow for any underwear. The shoes are the perfect height making the dress hem brush the top of my feet. I’ve never felt this good. If he doesn’t turn up, I’ll happily sit in this dress drink my wine and watch TV. I’m not sure if it’s the wine or the dress giving me confidence, deciding it’s a combination of both, I also tell myself he will turn up. The last thing I need to be is tipsy when he arrives, as I don’tneed my body and desires for him to take control of my decisions. I add some lemonade to the wine left in my glass deciding it’s the last one unless he doesn’t make an appearance.

Nine

Gabriel

Mark Jackson is being dealt with in a manner that will no doubt send out a message to the rest of the members. I know that it’s not routine for me to be involved in the dealings with incidents, but having two within less than a week, something needs to change. Jackson is taken to an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. It’s a place that is used by homeless people and drug addicts, the police tend to give it a wide berth unless absolutely necessary. We had the basement locked down a couple of years back so that we could use it at times like this. It’s a large open space with metal studs and framing, which are effective for restraining people. It’s cold, smells like metallic and the floor has numerous dark patches from the blood that has been spilled here.

Anders had Jackson’s hands secured together and used them so that he hangs from one of the ceiling beams. He was informed of his indiscretions and was begging for forgiveness when the first punch landed over his kidney. I sat back and watched as he realised that he wouldn’t be leaving this room.

Anders appeared to enjoy using him as a punching bag and by the time he took a step away and cleaned his hands, Jackson was spitting blood and switched from begging to spewing profanities at us. I stand, step towards him, and grip his chin forcing him to look me in the eyes making sure that I’m the last person he will ever see. I raise my blade to his throat, still holding his chin I push the tip of it into his skin just below his jugular so that he doesn’t instantly bleed out. Keeping the pressure on I slide it across his neck, dark crimson blood spills from him as he gurgles and chokes, slowly dying. Still keeping hold of his chin, I watch the life drain from his eyes, giving him a wink as he dies. His body hangs limp, lifeless like a pig in a slaughterhouse. I have never had an issue with violence or taking another man’s life, it raises no emotions in me.

I’m back at my apartment getting cleaned up, thankful that David and Anders managed to have it fixed up quickly after the incident since work has started on the house today. Anger is still reeling through my body, and I am ready for the welcome distraction that tonight is going to be. I’ve booked a table at a place that’s about a half hour’s drive away, somewhere that members from The Sicuro wouldn’t routinely turn up at. I don’t want people to know about her. Not yet. I get ready quickly knowing that I need to go to the office before I pick her up. I don’t bother going into the bar when I get there and go straight upstairs. Anders has already made it back afterdealing with the body and is sitting on the couch.

“Boss, there’s some things that need to be taken care of.”

“Take care of them then.”

“What do you want done with Jackson’s apartment complex?”

Fuck! I forgot about those, now that he has been disposed of these will fall to me as payment for his outstanding debt. I ask how many there are. He informs me that he only had one finished, it holds three, 2-bedroom apartments. He was starting to take over another one, but the contracts weren’t completed. I tell Anders that I will look into it later. I have better things to do with my time. I pour a whisky and finish off some outstanding work. I’m in the car on the way to pick her up when my phone rings.

“Boss, are you sure about this? She’s an outstanding worker and one of the few loyal ones.”

“Anders, don’t overstep your mark.”

“Understood.” He hangs up.

I know he’s doing what he thinks is best for me and for her. If it’s just a fuck I want, then there are plenty of women that could give me that without affecting The Sicuro. If it is, and I fuck her she can’t continue working there. She would get a hefty pay slip and be sent on her way. It’s not like me to interfere with the staff, but something is pulling me to her, an uncontrollable desire, and I can’t resist it.

It’s bang on eight when I knock on her door. As she opens it my eyes trail from her feetupwards, her leg is slightly placed out of the split that reaches her knee. I continue up and reach her pert tits, my lips open slightly and by the time I am looking in her eyes, I have already thought about her legs being wrapped around my neck whilst I devour her. Her hair is down, framing her face.

“Is this suitable for where we are going?”

“More than suitable. You look outstanding. This way.”

“I just need to grab my purse.” She steps back into her home, my eyes fixate on her arse, images of it bent over my bed enter my mind as she’s stepping back out, she pulls her door closed behind her. I place my hand on her lower back, slightly lower than normal, my fingers resting on the top of her arse. I open the car door, hold out my hand for her, and she goes to get in without taking it.

“Kelcie.” Her name leaves my mouth laced with a hint of anger. Today’s events still cursing in my veins. She stops, looks at me, and then gently places her hand in mine, it’s soft and delicate. She gets in, I close the door and walk around to get in beside her and I can feel the blood rushing to my dick already.

“Where are we going?”

“Dinner.”

“Is it a long drive?”

“No.” My responses are blunt, anger still present in my body.

“Not a talker then. Dinner should be fun.”

“What would you like to talk about Kelcie?”

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