I lightly stroke her cheek and she leans into my touch. She smiles a little and I can only hope she’s dreaming of me.
The only thing that could take me away from her is protecting her. I didn’t lie to her – she’s safe and she’s free. I’m out and she won’t ever have to worry again, but I’m going to find her father and make him pay for everything he did to her. I told her I’ll be back and I just hope she doesn’t hate me for leaving like this. If she looked me in the eyes and asked me to stay, I would. So I’m taking the easy way out because I can’t risk someone coming after her again.
My soul aches as I stand up and step away from the bed. I turn around and let myself have one last look at her before I close the door.
“Wait for me, baby,” I whisper. And then I’m gone.
LAYLA
Three months later
“I said get your nasty fucking cunt out of my face before I lose my temper,” I growl. I have a pounding headache and this shit isn’t helping.
“Oh come on, Daddy, don’t be like that. I can feel you’ve got a big pole in there you’d like me to dance on. Let me take you in the back, no extra charge.” The stripper grinds on my limp cock and winks over her shoulder at me. Like that’s what it’s going to take to get me to fuck her. She eyed me up the second I walked in this place. She’s been rubbing all over me and it’s taking all my strength not to stand up and put her on her ass. Fake tits and bleached-out hair might do it for some guys, but my cock only gets hard for one woman, and this one ain’t her.
I used to love places like this. I could roll in, have a few drinks with the boys, and avail of some free, no-strings, easy pussy. Now my cock only wants Layla. The damn thing has only wanted her since I laid eyes on her nine years ago. It pisses me off that this stripper thinks she can have something that isn’t hers. Who am I kidding, though; I’m not even sure if it’s mine anymore.
The only reason I let her get this close is because I don’t want to draw attention. I’m trying to blend in, which is hard for someone who is as big as I am, but I can’t let this chick think she’s getting anything from me. I’m not sure what she thinks I could do with her anyway – she’s a fucking twig, and I’d probably break her in half. It only makes me miss my Cherry more, with her luscious curves that fill my hands. I swear my girl’s skin is as soft as rose petals and as pure as snow. I love that she’s only been touched by me.
Catching a whiff of the stripper’s perfume, I’m pulled from my thoughts of Cherry, which only pisses me off.
“Listen up, Diamond, Mercedes, Daffodil, or whatever name it is you go by. If I have to tell you one more time to go away, I’m gonna put a gag in your mouth, handcuff you to the stage, and tell everyone in here there’s a seven-dollar hooker looking for a train ride. You feel that?”
Immediately, she stands up and walks towards the bar. “Asshole,” she mumbles and it’s all I can do to stay in my chair.
I take another sip of my club soda and go back to “watching” the stage. I’ve been waiting for over an hour for my informant to show up. Add to that I still haven’t gotten my daily report from Saint, and I’m in a terrible fucking mood. I feel like a junkie waiting for his next fix, my fix of Cherry. Three months I’ve been away from her. Three fucking months. Hell, I did eight years in the pen, three months should be nothing. But after having her, tasting her, I’ve only made my obsession worse. Sometimes I feel myself slipping into a dark place, doing what I’ve been doing these last few months, and then I think of her. It’s like she’s my talisman. She tames the beast I can turn into with just a thought of her.
Every night I lay in bed, stroking my cock to thoughts of her, thinking of her wild red hair spread out across the bed while she lets me take what’s mine. I thought jacking off to her before I had her was good, but actually having her made it a thousand times better. Now I know the taste of her pussy when I make her come in my mouth, the feel of her tight little cunt gripping onto me when she comes with my cock. Fuck, after being in a strip club for an hour my cock finally goes hard but only because I’m thinking about her.
Adjusting myself I look up and finally see Frankie walking in the door. He makes his way over to my table and he’s got a big greasy smile on his face. He looks like fucking shit. He’s probably using again. These guys never learn. I never got how bosses would let their men run around all strung out. It makes for sloppy work and sloppy work lands your ass dead or doing twenty-five to life.