21. Leo
CHAPTER 21
Leo
A few days after meeting with Rachel and handing in my deposit, I had fully moved into the apartment. Given that I didn’t have much stuff to bring, it was quick and easy.
I bought all new furniture, not wanting to move my childhood belongings here. Chloe and my father were kind enough to gift me anything I might have needed.
Luckily, everything we got was delivered within two days, and I’m all set.
Chloe insisted on grocery shopping for me because she said I would only buy junk food. She was ecstatic to discover that her new best friend lived across the hall.
After my sister's bright idea of leaving Veronica and me alone at the bowling alley, she thought we hit it off, and I moved here on purpose.
I did move here for a purpose. Just not for the purpose she thinks.
Staring into the fridge, I scan Chloe's neatly stocked items on the shelves: juices, water bottles, and a couple of cans of pop. She told me not to drink too much of it, or else my teeth would rot away.
With being pregnant and raising Carter, she is in full mom mode.
Snagging a bottle of water off the top shelf, I shut the door and twist the cap off the bottle. As I bring the rim to my lips, I hear a door shutting in the hall. It sounded close by as if it could have been Veronica’s.
I walk over to my door, peering out the eyehole to see her searching inside her bag. Once she is content with knowing she didn’t forget anything, she looks up and glances at my door. Only for a second, until she stalks off down the hall. I wait until I hear the elevator ding before I open my door and enter the corridor.
Looking to my left, I don’t see any sign of her, so I take the few steps to her apartment and try her door handle. I’m not sure why I thought she might have left it unlocked. Being back in Seattle, she is most likely paranoid. So why would she leave her place unlocked?
But there is an issue.
I want in there.
I stare at the door handle, wondering if I could pick the lock, but then I remember we have other neighbors. It isn’t only Veronica and I living in this building, and if someone saw me picking a lock, they’d call the cops.
If Veronica were home, she might let me in, but I want to peek inside her place when she isn’t here.
After multiple ideas play out in my head and fail, I reach into my pocket for my phone. Although this one may fail, it is my only option without getting charged for breaking and entering. I search for Rachel's number. She insisted I put it in my phone for emergencies.
It rings a couple of times before she answers, “Hello?”
“Hi, Rachel. It’s Leo.”
“Oh—hi!” Her voice went from customer service to something less professional. “How are you?”
I inhale a deep breath, careful to let it out without an audible sigh. “I’m good. And you?”
“Just great!” she states, and then finally circles back. “What can I help you with?”
“Camille was in a rush this morning and forgot to water her plants,” I lie. I have no idea if Veronica even has plants in her apartment. “She texted and asked me if I’d be able to do it for her, or else they would die, and she wouldn’t survive.”
“Okay?” she says slowly. “How do you expect me to be of any help?”
“Well, there is no spare key under her welcome mat.”
“I see. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate for me to hand out keys that don’t belong to tenants.”
“I completely understand.” And I do. It’s a request most people would shut down immediately. Rachel needs a little push, if you will. “I just know how much Camille loves her plants. She would be devastated if anything happened to them.”
“Leo—” Her tone is almost pleading. It is as if she wants to give me a spare but knows it goes against their protocol.
“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“W-what?”
“Dinner. With me.”
There is a short pause before she says, “The key in exchange for dinner.”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” she quickly agrees. “You must really care about Camille’s love for her plants to do this. I’ll be right up.”
Ten minutes later, Rachel had brought up the spare key. After a brief talk about the date that I sucked myself into, she let me be and went back downstairs. I’m glad she didn’t ask to come inside with me because, as I said before, I don’t even know if Veronica has plants.
Twisting the key inside of the doorknob, it unlocks, and I push it open. Her apartment has the same layout as mine, but hers is less decorated. I close the door softly behind me and step into the kitchen. As my eyes scan the area, I realize she doesn’t have much.
There are a few dish towels, one hanging from the dishwasher and another on the oven. They are a deep red with no designs on them. Rounding the island, I become curious and start opening drawers.
The drawer next to her sink holds all her utensils. Again, she doesn’t have many, probably because she is the only person who lives here and never has people over. I wonder how many times Chloe visited—or if she ever visited, for that matter.
She is using Chloe to get to you. She wanted to make both of you look like fools. Show her you’re not someone to mess with.
Anger fills within me as I think about how Veronica betrayed me. How she hurt me. Lied to me. Lied to Chloe.
Taking the tray holding the cutlery out of the drawer, I flip it upside down. Metal clanks against the hardwood, and I don’t bother placing the tray back into the drawer. I merely fling it onto the counter.
Most other drawers are empty except for a wine opener and some cooking plastic spatulas. The cabinets have a few plates and bowls that shatter to pieces when they meet the floor. I find coffee mugs that immediately drop from my hand to meet the same doom as her plates.
My eyes scan the rest of the kitchen, stopping when I see a wooden block filled with knives. Stepping over to it, I lightly brush my fingers over the handles. Does she use these to cook, or are they only here for protection?
Dropping my hand to my side, I turn to head to the next room but decide to open a drawer again. I grab the wine opener and fist it in my palm. This will be going home with me.
With the tool in my hand, I walk into her living room. A white couch sits against one wall, and a TV is hung on the opposite.
A dark wooden coffee table with one coaster and a candle is between them. I pick the candle up, inhale the scent of coconut, and shut my eyes. The smell reminds me of Veronica and the shampoo she used in the asylum.
Clenching my jaw, I allow the candle to fall from my hold. The sound of glass breaking echoes around the small living space. I stare down at what’s left of the candle before lifting my eyes.
A burnt orange blanket is draped over the back of the sofa. I run my hand over the fabric, humming at its softness. At the far end of the couch, a pillow is positioned neatly in the corner.
I walk over and pick it up. My eyes dance between the pillow and the wine opener in my hand. Bringing the sharp edge to the pillow, I poke the tip into the fabric and drag the opener down. It leaves a nice slice, and cotton starts to spill out of the open seam.
Tossing the pillow back onto the couch, I glance around the space. Given nothing else is crucial in the living room, I head for the next spot.
When I open the door to her bedroom, I find there isn’t much in here either. Veronica’s bed has an emerald green comforter spread across the mattress, neatly tucked under the sides. I can’t hold my smile at the color—the same hue as the tiles in my shower at the asylum. All the memories of fucking her in there try to flood my mind, but I quickly brush them away.
On the right side of her bed is a chair, the color a shade lighter than the bedding. On the other is a nightstand. I chew the inside of my cheek, tightening my hold on the wine opener as I approach it. Sliding the drawer open, I find it only holds two things.
A vibrator with a bulbous head.
And the silicone dildo she used on herself in that video.
My breath catches in my throat at the sight of it, knowing it was inside her—a place I used to be.
I’ve never been jealous of a toy, but the green monster claws at my back as I peer down. Unable to stop myself, I take it out of the drawer and sit on the chair in the corner of her room.
I hold it up in front of my face, examining its entirety as I think about Veronica thrusting it inside of herself. As I replay the video in my head, I lick my lips, growing hard in my gym shorts. Bringing it closer to my mouth, I stick my tongue out, licking up the side of the toy, desperate to get a taste of her.
She cleaned it off in the video, but I am hopeful she missed a spot. My eyes roll into the back of my head as the familiar taste hits my tongue. Fuck, she always tastes too good. I could never get enough of her.
My cock strains against the fabric of my shorts, so I place the dildo in my lap and untuck myself. I don’t hesitate to start pumping, the instant relief washing over me. With the taste of Veronica in my mouth and the sight of the toy she used on herself sitting in my lap, I won’t last long.
It’s pathetic.
I move my hand faster, grunting at the sensation building at the back of my spine. My head tips back as I allow myself to fall over the edge. I come hard, squeezing my eyes shut as I empty all I have.
After a brief moment, I open my eyes and realize it is all over the hardwood flooring. Oh well. I’m not cleaning it up.
As I shove my dick back in my pants, which is still hard even after that release, I hear the front door open. My head snaps up toward the sound, and I slow my breathing.
It is silent as she enters. Keys get set lightly on the island, and there is a pause as she probably takes in the sight of her disheveled apartment.
Finally, after that brief pause, her quiet footsteps come closer to her bedroom. She isn’t stupid. Her bedroom door was shut when she left.
I sit in the chair, legs spread, with the dildo still in my lap and the wine opener in my hands. Veronica enters her room, her eyes immediately finding me.
“What are you doing in my apartment?” she questions, eyes dropping to my lap. A blush spreads across her cheeks.
“Was curious.” I shrug.
“So you broke into my place and trashed it?”
“It isn’t breaking in if you have a key,” I reply calmly.
Veronica shakes her head in disbelief, and her eyes dip to the spot between my feet. “What the hell is that?”
I lean forward to stare at my mess. Smirking, I glance up at her. “Oops.”
“Clean it up,” she demands. “As well as everything else in my apartment!”
“Why don’t you clean it up?” I tilt my head to the side, glancing briefly at the toy in my lap before returning my gaze to her. “You didn’t do very well cleaning yourself off of this. It still tasted like you.”
She swallows hard, not daring to take her eyes off mine.
“Your tongue missed a few spots.” I use the toy to gesture at the floor. “Why don’t you show me how well your tongue can clean up my mess?”
A surprised laugh escapes her lips. “No.”
“No?” I sigh, leaning back into the chair. “You seemed eager to let me fill your mouth in the alleyway. I figured you, being the needy slut you are, would want another taste.”
I observe her as the idea of licking my cum off the floor runs through her mind. Her eyes fall to the spot and then back up to me, those greens glazed over with lust.
“Come on, little angel. Show me how good you can listen.”
Her fingers fidget at her side. I see the moment she gives in: her shoulders relax, and her breathing becomes sporadic. Veronica takes a small step forward, her stare trained on mine.
“That’s it, Vee,” I coax her. “Get over here and clean my cum off the floor.”
Another step.
Then another until she stands before me.
She lowers herself to her knees and holds the eye contact as her palms meet the floor. Bringing her top half down, her ass up in the air, I sit forward and watch in amazement.
“You’re so desperate, you know that?” I taunt as her face is inches away from the ground. “A needy little thing that has to have her mouth filled with the taste of me. How did you ever survive without me?”
The slight sound of a whimper fills the room, but she doesn’t respond with words. The first swipe of her tongue has a moan leaving her.
After that first sample, she laps it up as if it were her first meal after years of being starved. With my free hand, I snake my fingers into her hair, holding her head down.
“All of it, Vee. When I move your head, I don’t want to see any trace of me left.”
She hums, and after a few more seconds, I yank her head up roughly. Her eyes grow dark and wide, a hiss of pain passing through her parted lips. Good. I hope that hurt. I check the floor between us, and a proud grin forms.
“Not a drop wasted,” I praise, glancing at her. She’s practically panting in my hold. “What a good girl, Vee.”
“I want more,” she begs, reaching for the waistband of my shorts.
“Like I said, a needy, desperate little slut.”
“Leo, please. ” The desperation in her voice almost has me breaking. It almost has me letting her tear my shorts off and allowing her to take what she is craving so badly.
I strengthen my grip, pulling her hair so her head falls back and her eyes stare at the ceiling. I examine her features—her perfect nose, the faint freckles hidden behind the makeup. I trail my gaze down her skin, watching that spot in her neck pulsing frantically.
Leaning forward, I flatten my tongue at the base of her neck, leaving a hot trail up her throat and over her chin until my lips hover over hers. “I’ve always loved hearing you beg.”
“Touch me, Leo… please,” she whines.
I back away from her and see that she’s spread her legs for me. Inviting me to the place she needs me the most.
“You want me to touch you?” I ask, dropping my other hand between her legs. With the handle of the wine opener, I press it against her clit, causing her to inhale a sharp breath.
I don’t leave it there for long. The opener traces her body, causing her to shiver under its touch. I flip it around when it reaches her chest and press the sharp tip under her chin.
“What the fuck?” she gasps.
“We don’t always get what we want, Veronica.” The switch from her nickname to her actual name causes that lust to leave her eyes. A hint of fear takes over.
“Leo—”
“It’s your wine opener.” I grin down at her, adding a little more pressure. “Poetic, isn’t it? Seeing as you held a letter opener to my neck once.”
“What are you going to do?” Her eyes dance between mine. “Stab me with my fucking wine opener?”
“I thought about it.”
She laughs in my face. “You don’t have it in you.”
My smile drops. “I thought we talked about how you shouldn’t doubt me.”
I’m not going to stab her. Doing this was to scare her, but is she right? Should we be doubting my ability to harm someone?
I drop my hand, releasing her head, making her stumble backward. I stand, step around her, and head for the door.
“I told you.” Her words stop me. “You may hate me, but you don’t have an evil bone in your body.”
I don’t look back at her. I stay in her doorway for a second longer before returning to my apartment.
You don’t have an evil bone in your body, she said.
Oh, how wrong she is.