Page 33 of Diary from an Inked Throne

The woman glared at me from across the room, full of attitude. “How am I supposed to do that? I’m not its mother.”

I closed the space between us, wrapped my fingers around her stupid throat, and pushed her against the wall. “Then why the fuck am I paying you to be here?”

To her credit, she didn’t back down. Her eyes flashed with anger. “To suck your dick. I’m not a nanny.”

I ground my teeth and considered snapping her neck. Or squeezing her throat just a tiny bit tighter, until fear replaced the anger and she learned her place.

But then if I killed her, either intentionally or accidentally, I’d be stuck with the brat again.

And that was a fate worse than listening to Priscilla’s sharp tongue.

I let her go and pushed her down on her knees. “Do that job right at least then or get the fuck out.”

I dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the floor at my feet as encouragement, and she scowled at me.

“Twenty? That’s it?”

I undid the zipper on my pants. “Take it or leave it. We both know you won’t make more if you leave. We’re in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere.”

We glared at each other, and she eventually picked up the twenty, shoving it between her tits. She finally shut up and put her mouth on my dick, and I closed my eyes, one hand leaning against the wall behind her back for support.

Priscilla was at least good at this part of her job. Her mouth was hot and wet, and she could deep throat without gagging, not that I would have given a shit if she had. But I liked sinking almost the entire length of my cock into her mouth, feeling her tongue swirl around me.

I got harder with every slide and pull of her lips, until I was fucking her face hard and fast and she was making little noises every time I hit the back of her throat.

“Yes,” I groaned, digging my fingers into her hair. “Take it, you slut.”

My balls drew up, pleasure coiling deep inside me. I needed to fucking come.

The baby spat out his pacifier and started screaming the room down again.

Instantly, my dick went soft.

I tried ignoring the brat’s wailing, but it was like nails down a chalkboard, ear-piercing and cutting straight through me.

I slammed my fist against the wall, putting a hole straight through the plaster. “Fuck!”

Priscilla rocked back onto her knees and looked up at me. “Just ignore him.”

“How?” I glared at her. “How the hell can I ignore something that makes that much noise?”

She sighed and got up off her knees. “I’m not giving the twenty back. Not my fault you didn’t come.”

Even though I was running low on the money I’d pulled out of my account the first night I’d stolen away into the darkness with the baby, I shook my head. “Just shut him up.”

She rolled her eyes, went into the bathroom to wash her hands, and when she returned, she scooped up the baby. “So, what’s wrong with you this time? Food or diaper change?”

I didn’t care. I stormed out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind me.

In the cheap motel parking lot, I stalked between cars, making my way toward the office. It was unattended at this time of night, but there was an ancient vending machine that was mostly empty, save for a few probably stale bags of chips and a can of cola. That would probably be my dinner later, but I needed to make a phone call first.

Not the first one I’d made since we’d landed here.

I picked up the grimy black phone and tried not to think about what I was getting all over my hands. Pissed off, I jabbed fingers into the buttons, dialing a number I’d memorized, since I’d called it so many fucking times.

“Hello?”

Despite how out of control I felt on the inside, I forced my voice to sound cool and calm when I identified myself. I was Enzo fucking Guerra. I wasn’t going to sound all stressed and squeaky, like I couldn’t handle the situation I’d gotten myself into. That baby’s constant squawking and demands for attention had done a number on my nerves.