Page 158 of Property of Necro
Chapter
Forty-One
Still Day Two
“Okay,so how does one pick a house in town?” I ask Mama as we bang the heck out of chicken breasts with mallets. He’s making an Italian dish tonight, and I’m helping him prepare while also digging for more club details, like how things function and why they work the way they do. If I’m staying, these are things I should probably know.
“When a brother patches in, he picks a place,” he explains.
“And the prospects?”
Mama picks up his flattened breast and tosses it onto a plate with the others. “They live in our prospect house, or they live here. Depending on Necro’s mood.”
That makes sense.
“Right… and the rest of town?” I pick off a piece of fat and toss it into the trash can between us.
“Abandoned.”
“Every house?”
“Every house.” He nods and swings his mallet on another tasty chicken carcass.
If what he’s saying is true, this town has entire streets of abandoned homes just sitting empty, and that’s sad.
“Then how does the strip club function?” I ask. “I’m assuming the brothers aren’t stripping for each other.” Swiveling my hips, I put on a half-assed show for Mama, and he throws his head back and laughs.
He laughs awkwardly. “Sweet Jesus, Sola, no.”
“Do you go to the strip club?” I wink. Mama doesn’t give off the sexual vibes the rest of the men do, and that’s not because he’s a eunuch. It’s just Mama—part of his warm charm.
“Also, no. But most of the brothers do. We have a few locals running the place. Women we’ve, well… women, I’ve vetted.”
I rear my head back in surprise. “You hired the strippers?”
Mama flashes me a saucy grin. “You realize I’m the club vice president, right?”
“Yes. But you mostly run the kitchen.”
“That’s ‘cause I want to. I think we’ve established I love cooking. It keeps me level. If I don’t cook, I get cranky. I gotta keep busy. But I handle other stuff, too.”
“Okay. So, about these strippers.” I return to the topic at hand, curious about these elusive women he vetted to work at the club, who obviously don’t live in town. The testosterone soup I find myself living in is great and all, but a female face around every now and again would be nice.The ones delivered specially for Coffin to unalive don’t count. Neither does that woman he brought home months ago. What was her name again? Tabitha? Tiffany? Something like that.
“You should ask him to take you to the club so you can see for yourself.” Mama smirks, tilting his chin at the doorway where a sneaky Necro is leaning, apparently listening in on our conversation.
“Are you eavesdropping, hot stuff?” I tease, waving my mallet at him in hello.
His blue-white eyes light up with amusement, crinkling around the edges. He’s definitely smiling behind the mask.
Pushing off the wall, Necro saunters up to me with all those muscles out on yummy display. Thankfully, he’s put on a few pounds since the incident, but he’s still not fully back to normal yet.
He lifts the edge of his mask to offer me his lips.
A girlish squeal erupts out of nowhere as I launch myself at Necro’s mouth to kiss him silly. He’s smiling as I do, and though his skin is rough when we touch, it grounds me. After worrying all day about how I might have screwed up last night, I’m so glad he’s here—offering me a kiss in a common area. I can’t believe it.
Taking it a step further, he curls his warm, shirtless frame around mine and hugs me up as he kisses me harder. Parting his lips, I sweep my tongue inside, knowing he can’t do the same, but it doesn’t matter. I devour him, and he does his best to return my vigor in an awkward, inexperienced way, but it’s so sweet and sexy that I want to climb him like a tree.
He grips the back of my neck, and I moan, sweeping my tongue across the rough edge of his severed one. A shiver ripples through me, and he gasps so deep and deliciously that my toes curl.
