Page 6 of Devil’s Candy

His brow furrows. “Your boss. He doesn’t keep you safe?”

“He does,” I say, the topic catching me as a little odd. “Without him, I’d be dead. But it’s not like this…we don’t…we’ve never…”

His eyes light with understanding. “He doesn’t touch you?”

“None of the girls.”

“Is he into men?” Sver asks. “Because he’d be a fool not to see what a desirable woman you are.”

I nip at my lip. “No, he’s not into men. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so into his wife as Angel is…” I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Of course.” Sver leans down, giving me another soft kiss. “We’re talking about you and how you don’t feel safe most of the time.”

I shake my head. “Sorry. You don’t need my life story.”

“On the contrary. You tell me anything you want. And when you’re done, I’m going to bend you over the bed and lick you until you cum all over my face, and then you can tell me some more.”

My eyes go wide again. Because what the actual hell is going on?

CHAPTER THREE

Candy

Does he get off on women talking?

Is that even a thing?

“Why would you want to hear all my bullshit?” I ask, my brows furrowing.

His thumb strokes across my cheek again. “Everyone wants to be heard. To be cared for.”

Jesus, this guy is dangerous. It’s like he looked inside me and read my soul.

I stare at him, not sure what to say. I’m not actually foolish enough to take him up on an offer like that. I’ve already said enough, and besides, men say stuff like that until you actually start telling stories about the shitty parts of your life. Like how my father left, and my mother turned into a crackhead, and my grandma locked me in the attic because I was just like my mother. Bad.

I shake my head. “I’ve talked enough. Tell me about you.”

One corner of his mouth turns up. “I’ve got two daughters, both married, neither speaks to me.”

My eyes go wide. Oh shit. “So my crazy won’t be too crazy?”

“No. There is nothing you could say that would be too crazy.”

“My father beat me constantly, then left, and my mother turned to drugs because she missed him even though he was an abusive piece of shit.”

He kisses me then, his hand on my jaw sliding behind my neck. “Keep going.”

“My grandma mostly kept me locked in the attic, convinced I’d turn to drugs too. I finally ran away, hit the streets, stole most of my food.” I am going to regret this in the morning. I never tell people this shit. “Got a job sweeping the floors of a beauty shop and learned a trade.”

“Good girl,” he answers, kissing me again, long and deep. Am I good for sharing or learning to be an esthetician?

I keep going. Telling him about how I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with seven people for like two years.

While I talk, he sets me on my feet and slowly starts taking off my clothes, kissing my skin as it’s exposed. I’ve got nice skin, very even in tone, with a bronze glow that is natural. It’s why I can get away with orange hair. I might like to be loud in my hair and clothing styles, but I always want to look good.

I keep going, the words falling from my lips now, about how I met Marco, watched him kill a guy, and had to hide out with Angel.

“Who does he sell coke for that he can sample the goods?”