Dietrich
Ican still taste Hannah’s cum as I step out of the door to Margaret’s estate. The desert might be hot during the daytime, but at night there’s a distinct chill. I take off my jacket and drape it over Hannah’s shoulders, and she pulls it close, but I don’t think that’s about the cold.
Tucked into the inside pocket there’s a nice folded up piece of Margaret’s nice white sheet from the bed tinted with her virgin blood. When we find a home together, I’m framing that fucker. It’s art.
“Everything will be fine, babygirl,” I tell her. “Trust me.”
She turns and meets my eyes as the car I ordered pulls in at the end of the driveway.
“How?” Hannah mutters, shaking her head. “I messed everything up. I’m not sure what was actually riding on this whole set up… But for forty-thousand, I’d imagine it had to be a lot.”
I take hold of her hands, feeling them trembling in mine, and a growl escapes my lips. The thought of her scared about her future is unacceptable. We are each other’s future, now and forever.
“You did nothing wrong, baby. I was the one balls deep in my daughter’s hot little velvet cock sleeve up against the windows. Not that smart, I’ll admit, but I’ll fix it. Me. That’s my job. You’re perfect and you always will be.”
I see a flicker of trust in her brown eyes, but the truth is I’m not sure there is a fix for this. The Albanians won’t get their deal now, not when Margaret goes all incest hysterical, telling Bill Glover how I was Daddy-dogging my little girl for all the world to see.
As soon as Zeneli finds out, he’ll be warming up Cruella for an appetizer that will come straight out of my chest.
Which, sure, doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies, but that’s not what’s tightening my throat right now.
If he knows I’m connected to Hannah, he’ll use her to get to me. Then he’ll kill me.
I need to get to him first. It’s the only way. Him and about ten of his higher ups. I need to create such chaos, the battle for control within the organization will far outweigh any interest in tracking down Hannah.
Me, sure. They’ll come for me eventually. But by the time they get all the guts untangled and the fight for top spot is settled, it will be years and I’ll be vapor by then.
It’s a long shot. In all likelihood I’ll be dead before I get through the door. But I have to try. If my death can save her life it will be worth it.
Perhaps I should send Hannah back to her father, cut this off right now while the heartache might be minimal, but if I have one night left to live, I want to spend it with her.
I want to leave this world with the taste of her on my lips, the scent of her on my skin, the feel of her wrapped around my cock.
No one will see us and no one at the party would be able to trace her back to her real life.
My selfishness rages forward. I need this. I need her.
One night. If that’s all I get, it will have to last me a lifetime.
“I should probably go home and face the music with my father. I know you’re not going to want to pay me now. My dad will need a plan. He might run. He’s done it before, and Brigid and I will have to go with him.” The crack in her voice nearly does me in.
“You’re not fucking running. You’re coming with me.
” I brush the hair away from her face, stroking it down her back and giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“You played your part perfectly. You were…” I pause on a sniff, considering what to say, then it flows from my lips like warm honey into tea.
“You are the perfect daughter. My perfect daughter. I’ll pay off your father’s debts, and make sure you have whatever you need. Forever.”
“You mean that?” Her eyes are glassy as she stares up at me, the driver stepping out of the car and waiting patiently.
As he should, I’ve paid him enough.
“I play a lot of games with people, baby, but I promise I never will with you.”
It’s the truth. I’ve never considered much what would happen to my money after I died. But that’s changed. If something happens to me, somehow I have to make sure every last copper penny goes to my daughter.
Is that how I really think of her now?
I shake my head. It’s wrong but I don’t care. She’s my daughter and my fuck toy.
My muse and my baby mama.
If I live long enough, she’ll be my bride.
It’s very backwoods, thinking of her the way I do, but what the fuck. I’ve had half a century and I’ve just now found my reason for living. Playing out the incest fantasies she’s inspired isn’t hurting anyone.
“You’re coming with me,” I reiterate, not one to let gray areas linger. “Sometimes you won’t have a choice, baby. Daddy knows best.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding. “I mean, yes. I want to go with you, I don’t want to go home.”
The driver loads our bags into the car, then climbs in, and I tell him the destination.
Hannah doesn’t want to go home, and right now that house is her home. I don’t have anywhere better to give her, and if I did, that could tie us together, so her going back to her shitty hovel for now fits best into her being safe.
Why didn’t I ever put down roots? Why did I always have to play the next hand, run the next con, make enemies bigger than any one man can handle?
Why, just when I get something I care about in my life, mine is more than likely coming to an end?
“What’s the matter?” Hannah asks, and I realize I’m rubbing my temples, mumbling to myself.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Just details. Work stuff.”
Putting my arm around her, I pull her in close. She snuggles down as we drive, and before long I hear her start to sigh in her sleep, content and without a care in the world.
I take the opportunity to pull out my phone and send off a quick text to my lawyer, telling him to be here tomorrow morning, and giving him the basic details.
I also have funds I can’t touch for the time being, somewhere far from here, but he knows about them and I make him promise Hannah will get the lot if I can’t change my will before the Albanians take me out.
He won’t double cross me, because I’ve faked my death once before and he knows it. There will always be an element of doubt about whether I might return, furious, should he fail to pass on the money to Hannah.
I then book a single plane ticket to the Caymans, leaving tomorrow night.
Open ended. It’s where my house is that will be our home.
No private jets this time, no first class.
She might need to quietly get out of town for a while to keep her safe, and I want to make sure I’ve thought of everything and made plans.
“We’re here,” I whisper in her ear as we pull into the hotel parking lot, and she stirs, looking beautiful as she comes out of sleep.
I don’t take my jacket from her as I guide her in through the lobby, to the bank of elevators and then up to my room.
It’s orderly, clean, and elegant, but there’s only so many hotel rooms you can see before they all blend into a single bland, unremarkable image in your head.
What I want, is to make a life with her, but I don’t see how I can possibly have that.
Spending one last night together is the next best thing.