****
Braxton
I hop off the subway at West 4th Street and head up the stairs to a small diner surrounded on all sides by hot, young co-eds. The fall semester at NYU has just begun, and I’ve been instructed to take in the sights and pick out a few of the wide-eyed, all too eager, hip-swinging prospects with tight pussies that’ll make their buyers come in their pants at the mere promise of a lay. I slide into a back-corner booth and wait. It’s always been this way, from the very beginning. I’m the punctual one, and Milo…well, he’s always got an agenda that takes him out of the way long enough so that he makes a grand entrance. Unfortunately for him, this one will be his last.
Twenty minutes and two cups of coffee later, he finally appears with two tall blondes in shorts so skimpy, they’d be more aptly described as underwear. He’s probably already fucked them, too. Scumbag.
“Brax! Sorry I’m late.” He staggers toward the table, his eyes red-rimmed, and longish dark hair tousled and in desperate need of a wash. Milo has an arm wrapped around each giggling girl’s bare waist. He never learns. “Meet Tara and Stacey.”
Cue the bubble brain. Together, these girls don’t have had an IQ of more than fifty, but their tits and asses more than made up for it. Yeah, he’s definitely fucked them. He knows the rules, but isn’t about to let go of a hot piece of ass before getting off.
But he’s gotten sloppy, and people have taken note. Important people. People who make the rules. People who have power. And guns. That’s why I’m here.
He flops onto the bench across from me and the girls slide in next to him. “They’re freshmen. Theater majors. You know how much I love drama. And role play.”
More giggling in unison. I rake a hand through my hair, a half-smile lifting my lips. “I’m glad you had a good night. Ready to go? We have an appointment, remember?” I toss a twenty on the table and stand, shooting a warning look at Milo. His eyes are bloodshot and he reeks of booze. Dipshit is probably still drunk from the night before. Good. I just need him lucid.
“Come on, B. Don’t kill the mood. Let’s have breakfast with my new friends. Then we can go back to the dorm and all be friendly together.” He winks, draping his arms over their gaunt shoulders. Then he palms one of Tara’s tits. Or maybe it’s Stacey’s. Whoever the fuck. I need to get him out of here now.
If I hear one more fucking sound from these bitches…
“Maybe later. It was nice meeting you, ladies.” My tone is harsh, more so than I intend. Even the girls recoil. Dipshits. I just saved their hot asses, and they have no fucking clue.
Milo lets out a loud sigh and climbs over the porn star body on his right. He takes a second to straddle her, sliding himself over her thighs. I roll my eyes. “Dude, it’s a fucking restaurant. You don’t need to give her a lap dance where people are eating and now probably throwing up in their mouths. Get the hell off of her.”
He stumbles a bit, steadying himself with the tabletop. “When did you become such a priest?”
I grab his arm. “Shut the fuck up and walk,” I hiss.
He shrugs me off and turns around for one last leer. “Ladies, it was my pleasure. Really.”
He backs away from the table and heads for the door, nearly taking out a waitress trying to balance a full tray of food. I push open the door and shove him outside.
“Goddammit, Brax! What the fuck is up your ass?” He grunts.
My chest tightens. “How many times have I told you to stay away from these girls? You know the rules, but you don’t fucking care! And I can’t help you anymore.”
Milo snorts and smooths the front of his rumpled black t-shirt. “Don’t be such a stiff. Nobody’s gonna find out, man.”
Yeah, except they did. Because they always do.
It’s a reality that’s had me waking up in a cold sweat each and every night since I started working for Vergara.
But I’m not Milo.
A black SUV squeals to a stop next to the curb and the back door swings open.
Thank fuck for that.