Chapter 2
“Fuck, that’s good. Just like that baby, suck me dry.”
The whore who has no name or face to me, sucks me into her sloppy mouth like a vacuum.
I feel the tip of my cock hit the back of her throat and groan, my fingers tangled in her fake, dull, brunette hair, pushing her face further down onto my cock until she gags around the length.
Her heavy, plastered-on makeup starts to crumble around the ridges of her mouth and black begins to streak and run down her face, the inky tears welling in her eyes before they break the dam of her lower eyelids.
I don’t bother to wipe away her tears, in fact, I want to see them.
I like it when they cry. I like to be the one in control.
My whole life runs on fear and control, so why should my sex life be any different?
The faceless whore begins to pick up speed, using both her hands to jerk me off into her mouth.
Saliva and snot begin to mingle with each other as the substances turn into a slimy, sopping mess across her hands.
Untangling my hands from her matted hair, I lean over to the mahogany desk, and grab the small bag of cocaine, tipping some of the white powder onto the back of my tanned hand.
The woman keeps up with her fucking job of sucking me dry whilst I lift my index finger to my nostril and snort the cocaine off my hand, then pull my finger through the residue that’s left and run it across my fleshy gums. The buzz and adrenaline hit me ten fold, sending my mind on an instant high.
Gathering up my white dress shirt, I grit the fabric between my teeth, grinding the expensive material between my molars until my jaw begins to ache.
My stomach muscles tense as I feel the impending release of my orgasm firing through my bloodstream.
My dirty blond hair starts to stick to the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
Gripping the back of this bitch’s head, I grasped onto her hair then pulled her mouth off my cock with an audible pop!
Before dropping the material from in between my teeth.
“Open your fucking mouth, I’m gonna’ paint every inch of your slutty face with my cum and you’re going to take it, aren’t you?”
She whimpers, but doesn’t dare go against me and nods slightly before opening her mouth, sticking her pink tongue out over her bottom teeth.
I run a hand up and down the length of my veiny cock, and blow my load all over her face.
The white, sticky substance starts to clump into her fake eyelashes, practically gluing her eyelids shut.
My cum starts to run down her face like a melted candle, the slimy substance starting to resemble wax droplets before it lands on her tongue.
Once I’m done, I tuck my semi hard cock back into my black trousers and fasten the belt buckle.
Before the whore gets up to leave, I grab her jaw tightly in my hand, she squeaks a timid sound whilst managing to peel her eyelids open.
I keep a vice-like grip on her lower jaw which will more than likely leave a bruise, and shove my fingers into her mouth, pushing what’s left of my cum from her tongue down her throat.
I’m pretty sure I can feel her tonsils and the ridges of her side walls in her throat as she gags around my thick fingers.
Before she can expel whatever’s in her stomach, I pull my fingers out, leaving a trail of saliva behind, then wipe the back of my glistening fingers on the side of her cheek that has somehow dodged my sticky artwork.
“Clean yourself up and get the fuck out of my office.” I speak firmly to her, dismissing her with my words.
“Yes, Mr. De Rossi.” She fumbles over her words. Scrambling to her feet, she leaves quicker than I came.
I can still feel the residual high from the cocaine, my nerve endings tingle in my nose and gums. Dragging a hand through my hair, I push it back off of my face, then take a heavy seat in the dark, leather chair at my desk.
Nothing like a blowy and a bump to get me going.
My thoughts are quickly interrupted by my office door swinging open, almost smacking into the side wall.
“What the fuck happened to knocking before entering?!” I raise my voice to my right hand man, Nico.
“I could have been doing anything in here!” I remark.
Nico waltzes in like he owns the fucking joint.
His stern eyes meet mine and I know he has the information I requested, so I’ll let it slide this one time.
He’s lucky that I didn’t blow his fucking head from his shoulders the moment he stepped in the room.
“Boss, we both know what you get up to in this office, it’s nothing we haven’t seen.
Or heard before.” My brows furrow, but I know he’s right.
It’s my office. My building. My fucking company.
Anyone who dares to cross me will find a bullet lodged in the back of their heads.
This fucker is lucky that I trust him with my life, so I bypass his comment, moving the conversation along.
“Did you get what I asked for?” My patience is beginning to wear thin.
Nico nods once and places a black folder on the desk in front of me, then takes a seat at the opposing chairs in front of the desk, before crossing his ankle over his knee. The blade he carries everywhere, peeking from beneath his trousers.
I open the folder, finding exactly what I need.
“Found you.” I mumble to myself, my eyes laser focused on the details in front of me.
Scanning the page, noting an older couple’s picture attached to the top with a paperclip.
I remove the picture to take a closer look.
It’s been taken from afar with a long lens camera.
The details are a little grainy, but I recognise the man’s face instantly.
Michael fucking Murphy, with his wife Sienna.
My jaw ticks, tension spreading along my neck.
This man is up to his eyeballs in fucking debt.
He came across my name a couple of weeks ago, practically begging on his knees for money.
Once we’d made the deal for him to give me the money back, I told the fucker his life belonged to me now, and I meant it.
I’ve taken his excuses for far too long.
I will no longer be compliant. I want my pound of flesh.
I deserve it. Dropping the photo on the desk, no longer wishing to look at it, I pick the rest of the papers up.
Browsing over the details, address, bank accounts, place of work, the usual shit, but my eye catches on a small section at the bottom. A daughter.
Annabelle Murphy.
“Nico. Find me their daughter, now. I want to know every single detail about her. Where she works, where she sleeps, where she takes a fucking piss. Everything.”
My mind is on overdrive and I feel the sweat beading on my neck.
Nico stands up from his seat, regards me, and leaves.
I crack my neck from side to side, feeling the popping of bones and muscles, then take another quick bump of the white powder that’s scattered across my desk like a snow scene.
Anything to take the edge off of my raging nervous system.
Before I’ve even had the chance to get my thoughts together, Nico walks back into the room with another black folder.
This is exactly what I pay him for. The folder in question slaps on to the desk, and I waste no time prying open the pages.
There she is. And fuck me, she’s a nice piece of ass too.
I read the details of her life, making sure to soak up every ounce of information.
Twenty Four. Five foot five. Shoulder length blonde hair, works as an assistant at Franklin and Co. Drives a shitty Ford, and lives in the run down apartments about two miles from here. Right on my doorstep. Nico’s voice cuts through the air, cutting me off.
“Boss, she’s also going to Crimson’s opening tomorrow night.” My mouth lifts into a malicious smirk. I don’t need to voice my deadly thoughts, he already knows them.
This woman will be my pound of flesh, and her waste of space parents will have no say in the matter. If they think they can just duck out of this debt without any consequences, they’re sorely mistaken.