Stain (Stain #1)(13)

“Yeah, come back to bed, Max.” Bria pokes her dark green-colored blond head from under the burgundy, downy blanket and turns her head to look at me with sleepy eyes. A smile like the one Bria is sporting curls her lipstick-smeared mouth.

I’m so f*cking done with them. I take a moment to glance up from tinkering with the tripod across the room and say, “Fun’s over. Get the f*ck out.”

I hear Grace gasp, see her eyes widen a little because she can’t possibly believe I’m not interested in a second round. And I’m not going to lie and say I don’t enjoy that look. I f*cking live for this moment after. The moment I tell them to f*ck off. Thanks for the screw, sluts, now vacate the premises.

I look at Bria and she’s looking back. Unfazed. She knows the f*cking drill by now so there’s no reaction from her. I hear her sigh before she sits up. Big double D’s, white, and f*cking luscious bounce as she gets off the bed.

“What…? Why?”

Grace’s question draws my gaze away from a silent Bria searching the floor for her clothes. I frown and stare at her.

“You’re shit in bed, Grace.” I don’t like beating around the bush. Fuck. That’s a terrible pun. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed how tight you were. Great little gift, by the way. But I was f*cking bored to tears. It’s a good thing we had Bria here. At least she knew her way around a dick. I should be pissed at you for making me waste my time. But instead I’m going to be nice about this and let you leave here with a little bit of dignity. So do us both a favor. Don’t f*cking cry and don’t beg for God’s sake. Lift your head up, grab your shit, and leave quietly. Like Bria is doing.” This is damn near arousing for me.

“Maddox…please…I can do better. Maybe if we…practiced…”

I laugh. Genuine, gut-wrenching laughter spills out of me. It takes me a minute to compose myself again before I can look at her. I walk away from the tripod and proceed to the bathroom. “Sweetheart, there isn’t enough time in the day. But don’t worry, I’m sure the camera got your good side.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Max.” Ah, there goes Bria’s sunny disposition.

“Thanks, sweetheart, it’s never too early for the compliments. Now, be a dear and close the door behind you when you both leave. I need to take a piss.” I enter the bathroom. “And don’t steal anything either,” I call out, before I close the door behind me. It takes the length of me emptying my bladder and washing my hands before I finally hear the front door click shut. Good f*cking riddance. My charity work is done for the week. Grace’s going to end up hating me. They always do. And when she does, she’ll realize like the rest of them that they’re better off. It’s all about money to me, anyway. Porn, like dealing, is part of my budding enterprise.

I exit the bathroom, find my jeans strewn across the floor on the other side of the room and put them on. There’s a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen cabinet that I take with me outside. I hop out onto the fire escape and take the rickety, black-iron steps up five flights before I get to the top where a dark red door gives me access to the roof of the building.

The view from up here is fantastic. The city is spread out beneath me like a wet slut waiting for my dick. Twinkling, bright, and ready to be conquered. Fucking glorious. I bring the bottle to my mouth and take a swig and then another, washing down the bad taste in my mouth with the sweet burn of good whiskey. I set the bottle down in front of me on the floor. Searching inside my back pocket, I take a cigarette and my lighter out of the box. Three turns of the spark wheel puts fire at my fingertips. I light the cigarette, bring it to my mouth, and take a long drag of nicotine into my lungs. My exhale releases noxious fumes into the air.

Picking the whiskey bottle back up, I head to the edge of the building and take a seat over the ledge. Ten stories up doesn’t seem like a high enough point to plummet from. Relax. I’m not going to jump. Although I’m sure there’s a hundred-mile long list of people who’d be too happy to see me kiss the pavement. Now I ask you, what kind of person would I be if I gave them the satisfaction? Besides, I’m too much of a sadist to contemplate suicide. I enjoy my self-imposed hell. I can feel my demons beating against the impenetrable walls of memories I’d sooner forget. Persistent little f*ckers. Another swig and a drag of smoke into my lungs doesn’t work in washing away that taste of self-loathing. The contempt is stomach acid crashing against the jagged edges of my emotions.

What the f*ck brought this on? It can’t possibly be because I just treated Grace no better than my own personal cum rag. That’s me daily. Asshole is my first, middle, and last name. I sigh, close my eyes, and they pop right back open again when an image of my dad flashes in my mind. I laugh. But it lacks humor. Yeah, we’re not doing this shit tonight. Strolling down f*cking memory lane isn’t something that’s going to happen.

I’m off the ledge in seconds. The climb back down to the fifth level of our apartment is a short one and the instant I enter, I find Dro sitting on the ratty couch in the living room. The naked blond girl with the tattoo sleeve and septum piercing sitting on the floor rolling up little plastic bags of grayish-white powder is Dro’s girl, Wynn. She’s been in and out of his life since he took me in two years ago.

I frown, muttering, “When’d you get in?” He wasn’t here—I glance at the watch on my wrist, thirty minutes ago when I left.