Borgata - Book II #wattys2016

Chapter 21: Cinderella's Absence

Ahoy, PIRATES! Double update. ;))))

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"Fico needs to get his shît together," my sister @chrisrocks247 said, when asked what I should say at the beginning of this chapter.

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The next morning, I forced myself to take another shower to relieve the steady throb behind my puffy eyes. And...well, I also needed to wash away the remnants of...ugh. Oh boy, was Fico Vitali going to get a fücking earful about that.

I didn't know what to make of the night before because it was too random to understand. I didn't even understand myself at the moment, to be honest, because not even a sliver of me regretted letting Fico continue touching me like that. Waking up to that had been...fücking hot. But mentally, now that I was replaying it over and over again, my emotions were everywhere, and I needed to understand what was going on in Fico's head to slow down my thoughts. I also needed to tell him that eating me out was certainly not a good enough fücking apology for ignoring me for two whole months. Believe it or not, that's what I was angry about. The audacity. Not the fact that he'd gone into my bedroom and licked away at me while I was sleeping. The fact that he thought that getting me off was a good enough apology. The nerve!

I washed the rest of the conditioner out of my hair and stepped out of the shower. Dried myself. Slipped on the denim shorts and black blouse that I'd set on the bathroom counter. The shorts had been trapped between an "I'm a tomboy" length and "I'm a forty-year-old-mom" length, before I'd broken a razor in the bathroom and cut them myself. I'd noticed a very modest trend in the length of my shorts and hadn't thought much about it until that morning. Maybe it was out of spite. Actually, it definitely was out of spite. There was only one man who controlled the length of shorts and that man was still on my shît list.

A servant knocked on the door asking me if I wanted breakfast. Pancakes. As I nibbled on my food, I glared at the silver over-the-shoulder cocktail dress hanging on a hook on my open dresser door. It was taunting me. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant the stupid event Fico had asked me to go was nearing. No fücking way was I going. I uncurled my crossed legs, hopped off the bed, loudly disposed of my breakfast plate on the roll in table the servant had left out, and crossed the room to the silver designer dress.

The dress was my size. Just for kicks and giggles, I took it off the hook and held it against my body in front of a mirror. It was fairly modest length and there were heels that went with it. The material sparkled from the sunlight streaming from the open blinds, and for a moment, I imagined it twinkling as I twirled around in it...

I hung the dress back up. "I don't think so, Fückorino."

I set off on my mission.

"Fieldtrip!" I brushed past the big guy as I left my bedroom. Startled, he nearly spilled his coffee on himself and then stared after me. What are you waiting for, Green Giant? Blondie is on the move!" I continued over my shoulder.

"Why the fück are you up, Sam?" Hulk asked bitterly, once he caught up with me and fell in step with my strappy sandals. He was definitely not a morning person "It's eight in the morning. You're never up this early."

"Early bird gets the worm."

"What worm?"

"Fico's," I said, and stopped to grab Hulk by the shoulders. Surprisingly, he didn't bite my hands off at the wrists. I'd totally grown on him. "Hulk, today is going to be a great day. Today, I'm going to chop Fico's dîck off."