The Stories We Whisper at Night - Sky Corgan Page 0,4

to pick her up right now. The guys should be delivering her to you in about an hour.”

I fight back the urge to frown. The last time I didn't accept a gift with full appreciation, I got backhanded. I swear I wore the imprint of his class ring on my cheek for an entire week. Ever since then, I've learned that whatever my father gives me, whether it's good or bad, I have to accept it with the utmost enthusiasm.

A girl is the last thing that I need. I've spent the last several years financially struggling. Now I have enough money to do whatever I want, and I plan to do just that. Saddling me with some chick is just going to slow me down and make me miserable. Besides, if I wanted pussy, I can get it with no strings attached any night of the week at one of the clubs in New York City. Getting women has never been an issue for me, and I've never been interested in dating long-term. I'm young, attractive, and now rich. Why should I have to settle for just one girl?

“What am I suppose to do with this girl?” I look past my father to the street. Apprehension is leaking into my tone, and I hope he's not reading it as what it is...dread.

The happiness on his face fades slightly, and I feel the first tremor of tension between us. But then he smiles. “Do whatever you want with her. Fuck her. Make her cook for you. Lock her in a closet for all I care. She's a gift. I just need for you to hold her for me for a while.”

“Ah.” Realization hits me. “So, this is about business.”

“Yes and no.” He nods slowly. “I think you're really going to like this girl. That's why I'm giving her to you and not one of your brothers.”

“Well, if I can do anything I want to to her, then what's not to like.”

“Not anything you want to her.” He points at me. “I need her kept whole, in case her father manages to cough up the money he owes me.”

“What kind of a monster do you take me for?” I hold my hands out to my sides.

He lets out a short laugh. “I know what kind of a monster you are. Because I made you.”

“Cut from the same cloth.” I snort.

His expression goes serious. “I really wish you would have taken more interest in the business, Ryder. You'd be a good fit. Got what it takes. Got the balls for it. The stomach for all the dirty, unpleasant shit.”

“Aye. I've got the balls for it. Doesn't mean I want it, though. I've seen everything you've had to go through.” I remember all the bad—the people we've lost. The close calls. My father has been shot twice. Once, we didn't think he'd pull through. Spending every day watching over your shoulder, that's not the type of life I want.

“Well,” he taps his fist on top of the car door, “I've got an appointment to make. Better not be late. Bring it in here. Give your old man a hug.” He opens his arms to me, and I step into them. He wraps me in a bear hug, shaking me heartily. “Happy birthday, son. You're really going to love her. I promise.”

“Thanks, Pop.” I pull away and watch him climb into the car and drive off. As soon as he's out of sight, I scowl.

I wonder what the fuck I'm going to do all the way back up to my loft. My place is a home, not a prison. Should I be running to the local hardware store to buy locks and zip ties?

A wicked idea plays through my mind of making her strip bare and leaving her locked in the guest bedroom only to be used for my sexual enjoyment. That might not be so bad. Anytime I get the craving, I could go into the room and plunge my cock into her warm waiting pussy. She might not like it, but she'd tolerate it. My little sex prisoner, to be used at my whim. Used and then locked away and forgotten about.

That's fucking inhumane, though. And while it would be the easiest route to take, I don't think I'm that much of a prick. Still, she's damn sure going to have to earn her keep. My father said nothing about an allowance for her needs.

Fuck all, what kind of a mess did he