Page 68 of It Hurts Me
Brotherhood never retires.
I said, I don’t need help.
Well, if this plan is going down tomorrow, then you’re free to come by now.
I’m at the strip club, so I’m not going anywhere.
You’ve never fucked a stripper, so I know you aren’t into that.
If I fucked a stripper, you think I’d tell you? I rarely mentioned who I fucked. If he hadn’t spotted me with Astrid, I wouldn’t have mentioned her either. I only took her to Scarlett’s restaurant because my secret was already exposed, so I didn’t have anything to hide. But I guessed that was a mistake because Axel was hot on my tail again.
Just come by. Scarlett made cheese souffles, and they are so good, they even taste better than her…you-know-what.
If you’re going to imply it, you may as well just say it.
Fine. They’re so good, they even taste better than her pussy. Now get over here.
I’m gonna tell her you said that.
I don’t care. She’s so sexy when she gets fired up.
Alright, I’ll be there in thirty minutes.
Yaaaassssss.
The kids had been asleep for hours when I came by.
Scarlett greeted me with a tight squeeze before she smiled at me, a smile that reminded me of the warmth of a mother. The moment I saw her, I’d thought she was sexy as fuck, but now I saw her as a sister, and any attraction that burned long ago had gone cold and dormant. “I heard you’re here for the cheese soufflés.”
“Axel mentioned they were good.” My eyes shifted to him, threatening to out him.
“He says that about everything I make. Who knows if he means it.”
“Oh, I mean it,” Axel said from behind her.
She smiled as she pulled away. “I’ll let you boys do what you do best…eat and smoke.” She turned to Axel and gave him a quick kiss. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, baby.” He spanked her ass as she walked by.
She didn’t flinch at the contact of his palm, like this was a regular occurrence between them.
She walked away and headed to the stairs, and Axel craned his head as hard as he could to stare at her ass as she left.
I smirked as I watched him.
Only when she was out of sight did he turn back to me. “They don’t make them like that anymore, do they?”
I immediately thought of Astrid and disagreed. “Guess not.”
He nodded in the direction of his study.
We walked inside, and on the table, a silver dish covered the soufflés underneath. There were also cigars sitting there, along with the decanter of scotch.
I sat in the armchair and looked at the warm fireplace, which had been lit ablaze to chase away the cold winter. Then I reached for the cigar and lit up before I got comfortable against the chair. “Seems like Scarlett is fine with you smoking.”
“As long as it’s sparingly.” He lit up and released a puff of smoke to the ceiling. “So I have a cigar once a week. Sometimes twice if the kids really drive me up the wall.”
“Or if Scarlett drives you up the wall.”