Corrupt Love

by Cee Perkins

  “Fuck me already!”

  His head jerked up, surprised at the edge in my tone. He shook his head then reached over for a condom- under his pillow. Who the fuck kept condoms under the pillow? I really didn’t care right then, as long as he got the damn thing on his long prick and got it in me. I looked up at his face— Jesus, I didn’t realize how fucking hot he was— and grabbed his dick.

  “Go hard, if no one can hear me, the harder the better,” I told him.

  He made a noise of want, then grabbed my hips and slammed in hard, reaching my bottom in one swift stroke and making me cry out and buck against him. He gripped my hips hard, slamming into my pussy solid enough to make the bed shake. His grunts were deep and timed with my gasps as his hands moved me up and down his scorching dick.

  “I’m going to bruise this pretty pussy,” he said, breathless.

  “Oh yes, it feels so good to have your big cock in my wet pussy. Go deep, oooooohhhhh god, yes.” I moaned.

  “You wanna come, baby? You wanna come so I can flip you over and fuck you from behind?”

  “Yes, please, yes!” I was not above beggin’. His cock filled me, the ridges and veins rubbed against my walls, and made my pussy tighten. He shifted me a little, angling my hips and slamming deeper. He fucked me into and through my second orgasm, then used his big hands to flip me over and balance me on my knees. I arched my back low, giving him a better view of my wetness. He smacked my ass hard, then rubbed over it before lining up and slamming back in.

  “I’m gonna wrap your hair around my fist and saddle you, girl,” he said, his voice deep and heavy. “You like getting fucked from behind, dirty girl? You like me watching your ass? It’s pink with my handprint...you want the other side to match?” His voice was low, gravelly, and sexy as all fuck and as long as he kept the talk to the dirty variety, I’d let him use it.

  “Yes, oh, smack my ass. Fuck me harder!”

  His hand stung my ass again, then rubbed over it as he slammed me over and over again, then his thumb on one hand circled my asshole while his fingers on the other reached and pinched my clit. I was all I could take. My body locked, white noise filled my ears as pleasure raced through me, my moans louder and louder. Before I came down, he stilled and cursed, shuddering involuntarily as he filled the condom. We collapsed on the bed, out of breath, and sweaty.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened. “Brady, is everything ok down there?”

  Mama’s Boy covered his face with his hands and yelled back, “Yeah, ma, I’m fine.”

  “Ok, well, yell if you need me.”

  It took every single ounce of self-control I had not to fall out of the bed laughing. Don’t fucking let him speak to me or I’d lose my concentration. I held my breath until I gained control just before he said, from behind his hands, “God, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think she’d be awake.”

  I cleared my throat and shook my head. “It’s ok. Hazard of staying with the parentals. Not like she got a front-row seat or anything.”

  He took a deep breath and lowered his hands. He sat up, removed the condom and wrapped it in tissues, tossing it into the trash next to the bed. “I’m only here long enough to pay off my college loans.”

  I didn’t fucking care. I just shrugged and started glancing around for my clothes.

  “Thirsty?” he asked, as he turned to me and looked at my ear.

  “Um…no, I got what I came for. So I should probably…”

  “Right, yeah. I’ll get you an Uber.”

  “Thanks.” I dressed at warp speed while he pulled on some sweatpants. Goddamn, Mama’s Boy was a fucking God. I let my eyes wander over his chest, his powerful shoulders, down his waist, to the still noticeable bulge in his pants.

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll have to order another Uber,” he said, a smirk on his hot-ass face.

  I breathed in and shook my head. “Just appreciating the merchandise.”

  He chuckled and turned toward the stairs. “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

  This guy. Dumb, hot, fucking amazing in bed… If I did second nights, he’d have gotten one. Alas, I didn’t, so he wouldn’t.

  At the door, he grinned and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for the...fucking,” he said.

  I winked. “My absolute pleasure.” I walked out the door and slid into the car, noticing he waited until I was in the car before closing the door and turning off the light.

  Huh. For a mama’s boy, he sure as fuck knew how to one-night-stand it. Didn’t even try to get my number.

  Dan

  The text on my phone stared at me, a silent but heavy statement waiting for a response, telling me succinctly about the death of my father. It had been there since 4:53 a.m. Of course, I didn’t hear when it came in. Leaving the alerts and display on while sleeping disrupts sleep and causes cancer. So, I set my nighttime mode like always and rested my eyes.

  I thought about my father and our relationship. He had been a hardworking man, leaving early and coming home late in order to pay the bills and fund the habits he and my mother had. Of course, I’d never seen evidence of either habit until I was in my early teens and noticed that my dad hadn’t come in the night before. After asking Mom, she simply answered, “He’ll be home once he sobers up. Don’t you worry.”

  He’d come home two days later, stinking of old whiskey and wearing the same clothes he’d left in, only more stained and filthier than before he left. It was then that I knew my father would die from his addictions, and I made a conscious decision not to follow in his footsteps.

  I shook myself from the memory, and then I dialed my mother. She answered on the third ring, tears in her voice, and sniffling through the line.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, Danny-boy,” Mom replied.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “We were asleep, but he started choking and it woke me. I-I…I couldn’t do anything for him!” She started wailing painfully, and I knew she was blaming herself.

  “Mom, he was sick. You couldn’t have done any better than you did. At least, you were there, he wasn’t alone.”

  “But I should have helped him! I shouldn’t have let him drink so much!” she wailed.

  “Mom, you know as well as anyone that he wouldn’t have stopped.”

  Her sniffles calmed and she took a breath. “Well, I still should have tried.”

  “No, Mom, you can’t act like his death is something you could have prevented. He died because he wanted alcohol more than he wanted a functioning liver,” I said, feeling annoyed.

  “Dan, you could sound a little more upset, you know. He was your father.”

  I thought about it for a second. “Yes, he put food on the table and kept a roof over our heads, but he was never a father in the true sense of the word,” I said, letting my anger flare. “He did the basics, but that’s it. Excuse me for not feeling the loss of a man who never cared for me.”

  She gasped. “That’s not fair! Of course, he cared about you!”

  “Sure, Mom. If you say so,” I answered, suddenly feeling guilty that I wasn’t feeling worse about losing my dad. He was the man who gave me life, after all. Exasperated at myself, I said, “Sorry, I guess I’m not handling this well.”

  She sniffled again before asking, “Can you come help with the arrangements?”

  “Of course, Mom. Let me get ready and I’ll be over in about an hour.”

  “Thanks, Danny. You’ve always been our steady hands,” she said, and I could hear her building back up to wailing.

  “Breathe, Mom. I’ll be there soon. I love you,” I said, and ended the call before she could start again. I sat back against my headboard. My father was gone. Somehow, we had managed to keep the same house for the last three years I was home, despite Mom’s gambling, because he’d managed to keep a job. So many times, she’d come home beaten for not paying up her losses, but Dad always cleaned her up and put her to bed.

  Who would do that for her with Dad gon
e? There was no way she could possibly have functioned alone, and there was no way I could possibly have cared for her. She was too unpredictable, too unstable, and she’d have turned my routine upside down. God, what an awful son I was. Why shouldn’t I try to take care of my mom? She brought me into the world, fed me, clothed me. The least I could’ve done was help her when she needed it.

  Rubbing my hands harshly across my face, I winced at the feeling of unruly stubble on my cheeks and jumped out of bed to shave and shower. I called into the office, leaving a message with Jason’s secretary and then with Rosa in HR to tell her I’d need bereavement leave. I knew taking time off for any reason wouldn’t reflect well for me when it came time to hand out promotions, but it couldn’t be helped. My mom needed me.

  Then I called my oldest friend, Ryan.

  “Sheriff Frazier,” he answered.

  “Hey, Ry...Um—” I started.

  “Dan, I’m sorry man. I was on when your pops was called in. What can I do?”

  I exhaled harshly. Of course, he’d know already. It was his job to go out when a death was reported, even the ones with no criminal element. “I just…I guess I just needed to tell someone. I mean, I knew it’d happen one day. I didn’t expect it to be this day.”

  “Listen, you know your dad was sick. He may not have been the best, but he was your dad. That being said, he was sick, had been sick all your life. He fucked up a lot. He could have been better. I know you well enough to know that you’re relieved and guilty that you’re feeling that relief. Don’t be. He was a decent man, yes, but he also made really bad decisions.”

  “That’s…exactly what I’m feeling. But what I should be feeling is sadness and grief over the loss of the man who made me, literally, and who shaped the man I am today, as inadvertent as it was. He taught me how not to act as an adult. Shouldn’t I be grateful to my dad for setting the example of how not to live, instead of relieved that I don’t have to worry about him anymore?”

  “Danny, there’s no right or wrong way to feel, here. You feel however you feel, and there’s no apology to be made about it.”

  I ran my hands over my disheveled head again and blew out a breath. “You should have been a shrink,” I told him.

  He chuckled. “ You’re the only person I offer advice to. I don’t have the patience to listen to everyone whine. Do you want help making the arrangements? Where’s your mom, how’s she holding up?”

  “I think, Dad just wanted to be cremated and unless Mom knows his drinking buddies, there won’t be much of a service. I have a feeling she just wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.”

  “Mmm. Well, not to sound cold, but the morgue will be ready for him to be picked up this evening. It was natural, which I’m sure you knew. Heart attack. But according to the coroner, his liver was so gone that he only had about three weeks left anyway.”

  I had no idea it was that bad. “Was he sober?” I asked, predicting the answer.

  “Was he ever?” Ryan responded.

  “Thanks, Ry. I’ll let you know if Mom changes her mind about a service.”

  “Do that. I’m here if you need me, Dan.”

  I knew that. I could always count on Ryan. “Thanks, man. Talk soon.”

  “Yeah. Bye.”

  I ended the call and stood from the kitchen table. I forced myself to have my morning yogurt and bacon more out of habit than hunger. It tasted like sawdust.

  Was Ryan right? Was I allowed to be relieved? I thought Mom would disagree with Ryan. I was supposed to be sad. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t summon the grief.

  *****

  Mom had chosen the urn and gotten the pick-up day and time from the funeral home. They’d put an announcement in the paper for us, but since we didn’t know any of his friends, we opted out of the memorial.

  “I just want to take him home and have one more cup of coffee with him,” Mom said, as we left the funeral home.

  “He’d really like the urn, Mom. You chose well.”

  Mom patted her cheeks again with some tissue. “Yeah, well, he never got anything luxurious in life, so I might as well give him something in death.”

  “I have to say, I’m surprised that you bought an urn. I thought you’d want to spread his ashes somewhere?”

  She looked at the urn in her lap. “No, he never had any place really special to him. I’ll probably put him on his bedside table. Maybe it will help me feel like he’s still there.”

  “Mom…“ I started as we pulled into the driveway, “Are you going to be ok? Do you need me to call someone to sit with you?”

  We walked into the house and Mom slouched down onto the couch.

  “No, Danny, I’m exhausted. I think I’m just going to rest for a bit. You can go on home if you want.” Her words were soft, slurred with sleep, and she was out before I knew it. I knew one of the stages of grief is depression and she needed to work through them, so I kissed her on the forehead and promised to stop by the next day. Draping a crocheted blanket over her, I patted her shoulder and locked the door behind me.

  I stood out on the sidewalk in front of my mom’s house. Looking around, I noticed how crappy Mom’s neighborhood was. There were rusted out cars in the driveway across the street, the yards were all riddled with weeds or dirt paths that had been carved from years of treading over the same steps. The compulsive part of me felt antsy just standing there, and I didn’t want my mom living here alone. But the thought of moving her into my house made me itch. My mom was a lot of things, an addict being the most predominant. How could I know I’d still have everything I’d worked so hard for if I left her alone in my home?

  The familiar feeling of guilt over not helping my parents enough boiled up in my gut. The constant battle between anxiety and the sense of duty to my family was going to be that much harder to deal with now that I knew Mom was alone. I wish I knew which one would ultimately win so I could go ahead and make preparations— either to make room for my mom or to take my mind off my guilt for not making room for her.

  But then I realized— she’d never once asked me if I was ok.

  Gosh, darn it.

  Chapter 3

  Corra

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now Ash? I taught you how to get around bullshit like this, or did you miss that day in class?”

  “Corra, I’m sorry, alright! I thought my partner had gotten all the cameras.”

  I take pride in my work, in my girls. I take them as weaklings and mold them into something stronger and equipped to fight back against the misogynistic male club, training them to their strengths.

  Some are fierce and powerful, so they become sought after “debt collectors,” you know the ones who mess up your face instead of your credit rating. Some handle a gun with natural ease, so they become professional hit women. This is my niche, so I’m always proud when a girl hits a target from fifty feet away, right between the eyes. And some are unobtrusive, sneaky little bitches, so they become burglars like Ash.

  My girls leave me as the baddest bitches in a hundred-mile radius…but none of them are. Supposed. To get. Caught. I threw my hands up in the air, shaking my head and peeled away from the curb outside the jail.

  “Ash, I’m telling you this once, and only once: do not ever fucking trust anyone on a job. Ever. Other people fuck up and get everyone caught. The more people on the job, the more likely it will get fucked up. You only had two people— TWO goddamn people— and it fucking failed. Now, you’ve lost a client and don’t think for a second that shit won’t spread. No one around here is going to give you work.”

  I heard a small sniffle and out of the corner of my eye saw Ash wipe her cheek. I slammed hard on the brakes and turned to stare at her. “Are you a little bitch?” I asked evenly.

  She looked down at her hands, fidgeting, and rubbing her red nails across her opposite fingers as her long, brown hair curtained her face. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this life.”

  I reached over and smacked her
in the back of the head. She flinched and rubbed the spot. “Mother fucking hag!” she said, glaring at me.

  Good, that’s the reaction I was looking for.

  “No, you’re not a little bitch. If you don’t want to do this, fucking don’t. But don’t be that cunt that quits because you’re a coward.”

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to the window and nodded. “You’re right. I just need to drink it off.”

  “That’s my girl. And Ash?”

  She hmmed and looked over at me as I said, “If you ever call me a fucking hag again, I will fucking shoot you in the clit.”

  *****

  After I’d sprung Ash from the cell, we met Cay and a new trainee, Isla, at the gun range. Part of the training I provide was gun usage and safety.