Chapter 37: Connection

A/N: For some odd reason, it was hard for me to structure this chapter and I don't know why. It could be that I'm worried about the pacing and trying way too hard to make everything work. Between the stress of worry and slight burnout, it takes me a little longer to write and for that I'm sorry. Anyway, in this chapter a couple more days have passed since the OC started her healing process and she's gotten much better. I guess the chapter as a whole is about reestablishing connections both platonic and intimate. But at the end, we get a little of Winston's perspective as we finally meet one of the main threats looming over John and the OC. Enjoy!


You'd grown used to and loved the quiet tranquility of the mornings with him. It's very relaxing just being able to eat breakfast with your significant other whenever the opportunity presents itself. The two of you had just finished breakfast and you were still nibbling on a piece of buttered toast.

For the time being, you'd been primarily focused on simply adjusting and getting back into a routine that was considered normal for you.

Even with you not having to depart early for school, you no longer slept your entire mornings away and you actually wanted to get out of bed. It had even gotten to the point where you sometimes awake before John.

Consequently, your mind felt clearer than it had in weeks thanks to your lover's considerate actions. Most of the guilt, shame, and fear had essentially vacated and been suppressed in favor of a more pragmatic and optimistic state of mind. True to the advice you'd been given, by all accounts you'd been taking it one day at a time.

Things haven't been a walk in the park and that was for certain.

Undoubtedly, there's no way that you were fully recovered from everything that had happened but you were making significant progress towards that point. Steps were being made and that's what mattered above all else. Your mental, emotional, and physical wellness was gradually improving. Slowly but surely. You don't cry every so often anymore.

The once debilitating thoughts that overwhelmed you had turned into passing afterthoughts.

"I'd like to go see my friends today. They've been begging me to spend some girl time with them." You lamented.

"Alright."

If there was one thing that was hugely apparent, John had become enormously instrumental in your posttraumatic growth. He's truly a compassionate man, offering endless support while you went through a difficult time. You have so much gratitude towards him for how he continuously takes care of you. You feel as though you've bonded and indebted to him more devoutly than ever. Even in dark times, the man was fully capable of remaining steadfast in looking after you when you were incapable of doing so for yourself. Not to mention that he literally watched you struggle to come to terms with what happened and kept you together. Honestly, you don't know what you'd do without him.

As much as you didn't want to admit, there existed a subtle aspect of worship that played a role in your love for him.

Due in part to the man's support and benevolent efforts, you have a greater appreciation for life as a whole. Which is why you spent a lot of time reflecting and thinking over what your next decision will be regarding your life. If you didn't owe it yourself, you at least owed it to him at least. As a matter of fact, you owe everything to the man you loved more than anything.

You glanced over to the man in question who was graciously sipping his dark coffee as if it wasn't piping hot.

You understand that things like that can't be rushed and that's why it was important to be certain that you were absolutely ready to go through with it. Ultimately, you decided that you would do things when you felt like you were ready. Quite frankly, a considerable amount of time had passed before you were even able to consider going back to school or work for that matter.

Despite what you initially believed, you wouldn't be able to confine yourself to the house forever and you considered this a really big step for you in your process of recovery.

You had to admit that it was rather tempting to avoid the topic altogether. You could no longer resign yourself to staying cooped up in the house all day long. You went from not wanting to leave the house to eagerly needing to get out of it in a complex turn of events.

Ideally, it wouldn't just be better for you but better for the both of you. You wondered what it would take to convince him that it was the best course of action on your behalf.

He made you feel heard and understood. There wasn't a way of telling whether or not he would express opposition about you returning to school and work unless you brought the notion to his attention.

You'd been needlessly worrying yourself with the thought. You can't afford to just 'sit with it' anymore. You need healthy distractions and to make a concerted effort to live your life the way you intended. You had to prioritize yourself in some way.

Decidedly, you're still clinging to the notion that it was born purely out of curiosity and concern.

The current atmosphere encouraged stimulating conversation.

"John…can I talk with you about something?" You gingerly implored.

Wordlessly, John met your expectant gaze, nearly folding the paper he was reading before sitting it aside to let you know that you had his full attention.

"I know that things haven't been easy for us…" You whispered, hesitant in talking about it once more.

Everyone is a prisoner of their own fears at some point in their life and that critical inner voice that often speaks even when unwarranted and shaped the way you thought and felt. Everyday presented a challenge you felt you had to overcome in some manner or form. In many ways your life felt altered but you refused to allow what happened to dictate your life going forward. You're more than deserve life and no one has any sort of right to take it from you. You can no longer remain in a dissociative shell. While a part of you is still somewhat hesitant, you are willing to trust yourself. And it felt tremendously cathartic in many ways.

"I've been doing some thinking and I really want to start going back to work." You professed, gaining more confidence the more you spoke.

"Is that so?"

"Well…I haven't been in a while…almost three weeks. I think I'm ready now." You mused.

"And you're sure of this?"

"Yeah. I think so…" You murmured.

A dark brow arched, an unspoken question evident in his impassive expression. "Then why does it sound like you're asking my permission?"

"Probably because I am. Honestly, I didn't know if you'd think I was ready. If you said no, I'd respect it."

"If that is what you want then it doesn't matter if I agree."

"But it does, it matters to me." You deeply valued your counterpart's opinion, sometimes even over your own.

That was ultimately where the emotional connection came in - being able to share one's thoughts and feelings with impunity and uninhibited expression. It wasn't hard to confide in him about anything pertaining to you and it wasn't a secret that you looked to him for input on almost everything. Staggeringly, that's how deep your trust in him ran.

From a general perspective, you can see why you'd have some reservations. You didn't want to make a rash choice, not while feelings of uncertainty still lurked within your heart.

He lifted a hand to caress the side of your side in a gentle gesture and you leaned into the comforting touch. "You may return if you wish…that is entirely your choice to make."

Even now, it didn't shock you that he stood by your decision and validated your emotions simultaneously. That was the type of man he was and had always been. Regardless, his sober admission filled you with contentment.

With a smile, you nodded. "Thank you."

He trusted your judgment and that was enough.


There's a playlist of soft r&b music playing and the sound of Ari Lennox's voice soothes you just as it always did. Aside from assignment outlines being out and textbooks being open, there's actually no real studying going on between the three of you and it was to be expected.

The three of you were gathered on the floor of Alexis' living room. The conversations have ranged from chatting about school to relationships and it's only when they inquire about the landlord situation do you tense up slightly. Truthfully, there wasn't much you had to say about it other than it happened and you just wanted to get past it. The matter was over and done with. The man was in jail and would ultimately get what was coming to him.

"The guy always did seem a little throwed off to me."

Alexis was quick to chime in. "I told y'all a long time ago that he was creepy as hell. It's beyond weird for somebody to smile at you for longer than ten seconds. No conversation or nothing."

"You think he was sniffing your panties or something?"

"There's no telling what he was doing while you were gone. I just know he was probably sniffing her panties." Jasmine chimed in.

Closing your eyes tightly, you hated how right they could be. Truthfully, you don't want to know what the man was doing in your apartment in your absence.

Although, you desperately want to believe you're in a much better headspace but you still get stuck in your head from time to time. After having to suppress so much, you can just luxuriate in the fact that you don't feel like absolute shit anymore, at least for the time being. But from your understanding, trauma sometimes liked to roll back in unexpecting waves. And right now, you can't really afford to do one-eighty.

Apart from that, you can't lie and say that you weren't afraid of the emotions swallowing you whole again.

Much like your father, they were more hung up on the fact that a man had the audacity to put his hands on you in the way that he did. Both were very adamant about what they would do if they wanted to get their hands on him. Alexis had an old bat from when she played t-ball in middle school that she wanted to use on him and Jasmine expressed how she would mace him until his eyeballs were burned out of the sockets. Although you appreciate their enthusiasm to get revenge on your behalf, you didn't want them going to jail for various assault charges. Something they seemed ready to do at a moment's notice.

"If you want I can have my cousin beat him up in jail." Alexis earnestly offered. "He's gonna be in there another five years anyway, he don't have nothing else to do. If I call him right now, that landlord is as good as got."

This forces a small chuckle out of you. "Thanks for the suggestion but that won't be necessary."

"Is your daddy still pissed about it?" Jasmine asked.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, he gets mad every time it's brought up." You answered.

"Can you blame him though? I mean…I'd be mad too." She responded.

A few days after the incident took place, your parents had come to John's house to visit you. Whilst your mother, who handled the situation much better than your father, tended to you, your father had requested to speak with John in private. You recalled hearing the short conversation between the two men in the hall right outside of the bedroom you refused to leave. The words from that serious nature of that conversation still echoed deep in the recesses of your troubled mind…

"John…truth be told me and you haven't known each other for that long."

From the strained yet guarded tone of his voice, you could tell that your father was tormented. Tormented at the fact that he wasn't there - that he couldn't be there for you at that moment. It didn't matter how tough your dad made himself out to be, he was undoubtedly one the most sensitive people you knew.

"I'm man enough to say that I can place my trust in another man. Usually, that takes me a long time but in this case…it's warranted and for good reason. You earned my respect."

"There's two things I don't play about…my money and my family."

"After what happened to my baby girl, I would exactly say I was upset. It would be more accurate to say that I was mad as hell. But I realize now why she didn't want me present. Not just because of how she knew I'd react but because she knew you could handle it."

"That lets me know that you're a man that takes care of business. I admire that."

"It does me all the good in the world to know that she's in good hands. That's all a father could ever hope for when it comes to his child."

Throughout the exchange, going by the sound of his voice, it was rather obvious that your father had been shaken by the ordeal. Him not being able there to help his only child had rattled him in a way that couldn't be undone. What happened to you was a parent's worst nightmare. The fear of loving a child trumped all else, not even a petty rivalry with another man.

His words indicated that he felt like he failed you as a parent, something you knew wasn't possible. It was probably the most terrible feeling and it hurt knowing that your father was so conflicted. Not to mention, he'd already apologized to you countless times.

He knew absolutely nothing of the landlord and his questionable behavior beforehand.

Aside from your father confiding in another man, something you never heard of him doing, you were more in disbelief that he outright informed your significant other that he trusted him. Never in a million years would you have expected your father to place his trust in another man so quickly. John's treatment and conduct of you had inadvertently garnered your father's approval as well as trust and assurance that you were fiercely protected. It warmed your heart.

That parental protectiveness he possessed over you from the moment you were born hadn't abated in the slightest.

That brought you back to the unspoken issue concerning your friends. You hadn't meant to shut them out. In all sincerity, you regret not having the mindset or capacity to lean on them more in your time of need. It was a very complex state of mind you were caught in and you were still struggling to define it. The feeling was a very isolating one. They worried about you greatly and frequently insisted on coming to visit you but you always refused, saying you were okay and just needed some time. Something they, as very close friends, couldn't understand and you know they had to have felt hurt by it. Sadly enough, you didn't have a valid explanation to give them on why - that was probably the worst part.

"Hey um…listen…I'm really sorry I didn't…" You began in a hushed tone.

Unexpectedly, Jasmine held up one of her hands, halting the rest of the apology you were about to offer.

"Girl there's no reason for you to apologize to us. We know that shit had to be traumatizing. Something like that can break a person and change their whole life. We wouldn't ever be mad at you for that so don't apologize. You felt how you felt and you needed some space afterwards. We get that. You don't owe us any explanation. Just know that we got you…through thick and thin."

"Yeah…I mean sometimes shit gets messy and complicated but that's why he gotta stick together." Alexis remarked. "No matter what happens we have to take care of each other."

You listened to your friends honest and heartfelt words, too emotional to put forth much effort to prevent any tears from brewing along your lashes. Their words made it obvious that they wanted to be there to brave and manage life's many tribulations with you and it stirred several emotions. Their reassurance had been exactly what you needed to put your mind at ease. And now, at this very moment, you've never been more certain that you chose the best set of friends to navigate life with.

They're your girls, your loyal ride-or-dies always prepared to brave the storm with you. The three of you poured so much into each other over the years. You should've known that you could trust and lean on them for understanding.

"Now you shutting us out, I can forgive that. But don't you ever tell me I can't come to that nice ass house okay?"

Jasmine turned to give her an incredulous look. "Was that all you were offended about?"

"Do you know how hurt I was when she told us not to come over? If she hadn't agreed to come over today, I probably would've been outside looking into the windows."

"Didn't you say that John burst in and started choking him."

"Yeah. If he wasn't there…I'd probably be dead."

Probably? There wasn't a probably, you would most definitely be dead if not for his interference.

"Thank god for white men with silk presses."

A snort escaped your lips before you could stop it and you shook your head. "Alexis shut up."

They could be so utterly ridiculous at times and then super serious in the next instance.

Throughout the entire duration of being in your friend's apartment, a certain scent had been tickling your nose for some time. Shifting from your place on the floor next to the couch, you leaned upwards to sniff further.

"Did you cook some spaghetti or something?" You questioned, brows furrowing.

"Uh yeah…I made some with some garlic bread like three days ago. Why?"

Hmm, you thought you smelled a hint of garlic. You weren't that far off the mark.

"I can still smell it like you cooked it today. Did you use some ragu sauce too?"

"Damn do you have some cameras set up in my house?" She asked incredulously before she paused, not realizing that she was unintentionally making light of the situation.

Her and Jasmine subsequently froze, looking to you to gauge your reaction at the unintentional quip.

A beat of silence passed with no motion or sound from either of you.

A corner of your mouth lifted, letting out a giggle before you doubled over, a full fledged laugh erupting from the depths of your belly.

When the initial shock passed, your friends shared a confused look with one another but soon joined you in vicious laughter. You didn't mind the joke since the three of you already had a tendency to find humor out of terrible situations that often happened in your lives. Regardless, the three of you could never take anything seriously for very long.

Their combined laughter had lifted some of the weight lingering in your chest.

It took a while for the laughter to abate before the three could compose yourselves. After it was done, you easily fell back into conversation.


"I really enjoyed seeing my friends. They were happy to see me." You mentioned.

The both of you had settled into the relatively quiet space of the living room, some romantic comedy was playing on the television screen that you didn't catch the name of. If you believed you weren't immersed in the movie before then you've all but dismissed it from your notice entirely when you started scrolling absentmindedly on your phone. The action was distracting enough and you hadn't been paying the tv the slightest attention because of it.

Despite neither of you having chosen the movie selection, it was rather odd that a film of this caliber was playing on the television. Up until this point, you hadn't paid it that much attention, alternating between scrolling through your phone and looking up at the screen occasionally.

The couple on the screen had begun to kiss and it became rather apparent that they were about to become more intimate with one another.

When you were younger, if a scene like this came on while you were watching tv with your parents, you'd feel all kinds of grossed out and embarrassed. Even now, as a fully grown adult deep down you still felt some embarrassment along with an underlying hint of arousal. With that realization, it was hard to miss the warmth spreading throughout the various places of your body.

Sheepishly, you glanced over at your lover as he sat on the other end of the couch. He wasn't showing an outward reaction to anything happening on the screen. Even something as commonplace like watching television while sitting on a couch some distance away from you was enough to spark some interest. Admittedly, he didn't necessarily have to do much anyway.

In spite of what you were feeling, the man remained completely oblivious to your licentious perusal of his person.

What you felt wasn't just some genital sensation and you can't help but feel somewhat anxious about it. Racy thoughts of him doing things to you began to filter through your mind at an alarming frequency. The images get your blood racing in the most exciting way possible. Your clothes have started to feel uncomfortable brushing against your skin.

On one hand, you feel like you shouldn't be ogling him but here you were but it felt better to just accept it than to pretend that you weren't in the first place. You thought that simply ignoring would curb the urge and thoughts associated with it. Frankly, you almost didn't know if you even wanted it to be made known and wondered whether to act on it or not. Hopefully, you could gain control of your fluctuating hormones.

Leering longingly at his composed profile, you began to chew on the inside of your bottom lip, folding your arms together in order to quell the jittery movements of your body.

Sexual attraction between lovers was normal but with him you felt like it was deeper than that simple attraction. You feel hopelessly addicted to him.

Despite the previous circumstances, your desire for him hadn't waned, it had just been placed on the back burner. Having spent so many days lost in despair that you couldn't entertain the thought of becoming aroused let alone being intimate. During that time, John had remained graciously patient with you, not once acting on his desires or disregarding your state of mind.

Even now, you're more starved for it than you could ever remember being and it showed in the way you were lustfully eyeing him the way that you were. They say that the eyes 'were the window to the soul' and you're certain that yours were showing an unbearable need to be fucked.

While you're aware that there was a thin line between arousal and frustration and the sexual tension was building much to ignore. At this point in time, your body was plagued with unfulfilled sexual desire and built-up tension.

Suddenly, you wanted him closer to you but unlike John, you've never been the best at silently communicating your needs and wants. Worst case scenario, you don't want to initiate anything and it winds up being entirely one-sided.

All of your sexual needs had been placed on the backburner and neglected due to your fragile mental and emotional state. Because what you went through, your sexual drive had basically plummeted. While any type of stress was bound to be a mood killer, not once had you ever thought prolonged sexual abstinence would amplify your sex drive to the extent that you felt so intensely.

You'd been skirting around your desire for some time now and it almost felt strange to have desire creeping back into your loins.

With the onslaught of arousal, your mind flashed back to the night he placed you on his desk and slid his fingers between your legs. Just recalling the memory caused your cheeks to flush - it was like he flicked a switch in your brain

Where did he even learn to do something like that?

After the credits roll, the two of you decided it was time to head upstairs and prepare for bed.

He'd begun to strip out of his jeans to substitute them for a pair of pajama pants before pulling his shirt off revealing the extensive tattoos and healed scars on his back. You watch him through the mirror on the over dresser.

As a man, John had a very sturdy and sinewy physique, with firm muscles and broad shoulders.

Closing the proximity between your bodies, you came to stand directly behind the man. You can't quite describe the feeling now that he was close enough to touch. Using your fingertips, you lightly trace every one of the scars along the skin of his back. The two of you weren't that different, you both had scars. Although, yours were more mental than physical.

As intended, you allowed your current actions to serve as a sultry invitation to him - to let you know that you wanted him. He could fully grasp the intent behind your unexpected actions. As of now, he was no longer unaware of your amorous intentions towards him.

After a brief moment, you began to notice that your partner did not seem to respond to your affectionate endeavors as you'd hoped. The realization makes you stop immediately and pull away, the sliver of hope in your chest beginning to fade away. "I'm sorry. I thought…"

The unpleasant feeling of being rejected barely had time to settle in before a single finger was pressed to your lips, effectively halting any further words from leaving your mouth.

John calmly stared down into your confused gaze before taking a gentle hold of your hand and it was then you understood that he was not rejecting you as you believed. The confusion only amplified when the man turned to guide you towards the bed before gracefully seating himself at the edge, leaving you standing directly over him. It took you a few seconds to grasp the objective behind his actions. Without uttering a single word he'd just given you free reign to do as you pleased.

Every single trace of trepidation evaporated in that very instant and swift arousal started to coil firmly in your belly.

Based on experience, you already knew that the neck is a very sensitive region. Gently pursing your lips. Sucking on a small area of his neck where his pulse was. Moving your head upwards, kissing and licking the outer part of his ear.

At this very moment, there was so much for you to take into consideration - your lover's responsiveness, the seemingly never-ending kindness and empathy he bestowed every single day. Acknowledging that, you truly hoped your touch transmitted every bit of love and appreciation you felt for him. He'd been taking care of you and now you planned to take care of him in return. He must've known that you'd needed this - you needed him. You were yearning to establish that physical connection.

Placing your hands on his chest, you gently pushed him to lie back on the bed. You climbed atop him carefully, memorized by how vulnerable he looked with his hair spread across the duvet. You were practically shaking with unquenched need.

Palms tracing patterns over his pectorals, your touch was purely experimental, as if this were the first time learning his body. Moving downwards, your hands continued to explore the man's hard, cut abdomen, feeling the firmness of his frame beneath your roaming palms. The skin to skin contact was beyond invigorating.

In addition to that, it felt nice to have full control for once. "I've always wanted to do this." You uttered to him.

Positioning yourself atop the bulge in his pants, you began grinding down on him through your clothes. Immediately you felt sharp pangs of arousal from your core, bringing it to life.

Leaning down, your lips grazed along the hitman's throat, pressing soft light-feather kisses across the man's fair skin. Fueled primarily by breathing in his intoxicating scent, you started placing open mouthed kisses along his neck, breathing in the natural male musk and delicious scent that was exclusively him. The smell seemed to act as a sort of pheromone, seeing as how just smelling it causes you to act like a cat in heat.

Pulling away, you looked into his eyes and it was like time had stopped and your heart started off at an erratic pace.

John impassively peered up at you from beneath elongated dark lashes and you appreciated how identical pools of hazel drank in the sight of your bare breasts.

The alluring sight caused you to lean down and capture his lips with yours. Your respective tongues danced against one another until you reluctantly pulled away once more.

He pulled the fabric of the shirt open more until it no longer was in the way. He admired the hardened brown peaks for a moment longer before lifting himself upwards and pulling one of the stiff brown buds into his mouth with gentle suck.

Your paramour continued gently suckling at the delicate bud, applying enough suction to have you whining in satisfaction. They were undoubtedly the most sensitive part of your body and it produced the most bliss-inducing sensation.

Lazily circling the dark areola around the nipple he turned his attention to its twin, flicking the other tiny protruding bud with his tongue. You wrapped your arms around his head, running tentative fingers through his dark silken tresses releasing a sigh of ecstasy.

He spent some time playing with the pebbled peaks with his tongue while his hands began roaming over your supple curves. You felt the man's warm hands slide up around your thighs to palm big handfuls of your backside pressing you into the bulge farther.

Fully engrossed in burning passion, you pulled away and made haste in removing the remaining clothing encompassing you and your lover's body with feverish hands. In what seemed to be no time at all, both of your bodies had been deprived of fabric save your shirt, which had been unbuttoned just enough to not be in the way.

Lifting yourself up you reached down to take hold of him, stroking the pillar of rigid flesh in

up and down motions. Coming to settle over him, you slowly descended onto the erect flesh, inhaling sharply as your insides parted to accept the whole of him. Keeping your balance by planting your heels in the bed for stability, you hissed at the stretch, trying not to bare down too hard on it. You lowered yourself down inch by inch until your pelvis made direct contact with his. Until his manhood was sheathed snugly in the moist coven of your pussy.

Your paramour's brows promptly knitted together at the infusion of your bodies in the most salacious of ways, jaw clenched tightly as your body gripped him in an unyielding embrace. Eventually, your body conceded, molding around the familiar flesh it had grown to know for nearly a year now.

Taking up a squatting position and placing shaking palms resting on your lover's firm chest, you began raising yourself up and subsequently bringing yourself back down in the same motion, impaling yourself on his erection over and over. You put forth your efforts to ride him in this manner with desirous urgency, driven entirely by the intensity of your desire.

You soon found that this position required much more effort and leg strength than you previously thought. After about thirty seconds, your thighs are straining and your knees are practically screaming. You couldn't bounce for any longer than ten seconds and that was really pushing it. You had to stop at multiple points and it was rather inconsistent and disappointing. He was essentially watching you work yourself into exhaustion atop him to the point where you were starting to feel dizzy. It's basically something you can't help since your legs keep tightening up on you and it's beyond frustrating.

After three more failed attempts, you finally decide to call it quits and plant your knees firmly on the bed. So much so that you felt as if you needed to issue an apology for your poor performance as you were definitely capable of doing better.

"I'm sorry, my knees are getting tired." You explain, huffing tiredly.

"It's alright." He comforted you, rubbing over your thighs in encouragement.

John, having noticed the issue, took care to adjust your hip angle and placement in a way that accommodated you both. That way your hips and knees are doing most of the work. For all your hard working efforts, you realize that you haven't been quite hitting the spots you needed to. The new position permitted more leverage and freedom to ride him to your heart's content. Creating an indescribable sensation that you couldn't get enough of.

Long decisive fingers transversed the smooth brown skin of your thighs as you both shared hungry, sensuous kisses and you nibbled at his bottom lip before soothing it with the soft glide of your tongue.

Once again, you sank down to the hilt with a shattered breath. For long seconds, you sat atop him filled to capacity with hard dick inner walls quivering around the stiff appendage. Like before he'd left you in control of the speed, pace and depth, all the man had to do was lay back and relax. You find that you're no longer upset to find that you can only grind without getting tired.

Watching him through clouded, lustful eyes, you rolled your hips, the slickness secreting from your body made the act so much easier and pleasurable. The hitman reaches back once more to lightly massage your ass with his large palms. He places a finger over into the ring of your anus, dipping inside slightly for good measure and exacerbating the desire in your loins.

"I love you…I love you so much." You proclaim with a passionate sob, maintaining direct eye contact with him as he watches you through hooded eyes and caressing your tenderly rolling hips as you undulate in his lap in languid movements.

Eventually his attention was focused solely on the gently bouncing mounds and his hands soon came up to tenderly massage them. It takes only a few minutes of tortuous grinding for you to start to come apart.

Soon the coiling tension that built in your stomach was unraveling and bright bursts of light flashed behind your eyelids. You cried out loudly and shook, cultivating the ultimate release before you collapsed on top of him. Having fallen atop him, you basked in the afterglow of its overwhelming effects and soon afterward you were filled with warm jets of semen. The two of you shared a moment of silence as the effects of climax began to recede into blissful contentment.

Releasing short breaths in a way to regain your lost composure, you managed to lift your head a fraction to look into his somewhat glazed eyes. "Can we do it again?"

A single dark, arched brow lifted at the unexpected question.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Within the hotel owner's private office, contemporary art pieces hung decoratively along the walls. Amidst a backdrop of Intricate stained glass windows that allowed natural light to radiate into the office space, providing the workspace with a truly luxurious and sophisticated component. Directly arranged in front of his desk were vintage decor and furnishings of the finest upholstery ready to seat any visiting guest requesting an audience with him.

It was a sanctuary that Winston had come to know for over forty years.

Winston clasped his hands together on the polished wood desk, he awaited the assembly.

It wasn't long before the phone rang pulling his focused gaze from important paperwork.

When he answered his hospitable concierge's voice filtered into his ears. "Sir, you have a visitor."

"Send them in please." The man requested, placing the phone back into its place.

As the door to the office creaked open, the guest in question glided elegantly into the room. Soon the sound of well-polished shoes permeated the spacious room. Dressed in a double-breasted, custom made gray suit and petticoat and highly expensive Italian leather shoes,

Winston waited patiently as the guest unhurriedly seated himself in one of the leather chairs positioned in front of the desk.

The well dressed man began speaking in a heavily accented tone of voice. "My my it certainly has been some time."

"That it has. Weary from your travels I presume Mr. Dmitriev?"

"Not at all. In fact, I was quite excited to make the trip. It's not often I get to visit such a fine place as New York. Though I much prefer my home country."

"Fair enough. It's great to see you, my friend." Winston greeted, extending his hand graciously to offer a handshake to which the other man accepted.

"Thank you for having me on such short notice Winston."

"Of course my friend. What brings you to my humble establishment at this hour and to New York I might add?" The proprietor of the hotel questioned.

As to the question of why, to Winston it wasn't that much of a mystery. He thought he had a solid idea of why the man had come and a sinking feeling manifested deep in the pit of his stomach.

"While it is always good to see a friend after so many years, I admit that I've grown rather restless as of late." He explained in an exasperated fashion.

"And why is that?"

A tattoo made was visible on the surface of Dimitri's calloused hand as he reached for the glass containing the red wine offered to any visiting guest seeking an audience with him. "I guess I'm mainly here to conduct an investigation of sorts. I seek…advice and quite a bit of information that I know only you can provide." His mouth had curved into a smile although everything he spoke about was humorous even though they both knew it was not. It was gravely serious as a matter of fact.

Brows lifted in interest, Winston tilted his head, heavily considering the man's words. Though, in reality, the man was not as surprised as he looked. This came as no surprise. Through his high position, Winston remained well connected and respected by a great many in the underworld. Many in high ranking positions that often sought him out to conduct business and gather information.

"Oh yes…I'd heard you'd run into some trouble as of late."

The man chuckled over the glass lifted toward his mouth. "The word trouble does not even begin to describe the mess that had occurred over the past few months. We still have yet to recover from it. Much of our stock was lost, the clients ready to purchase were left greatly unhappy, and the loss of profit insurmountable."

"The High Table was understandably not pleased about it. The matter concerns them greatly."

Winston didn't doubt that they were. Things of that nature were never taken lightly.

"They wish for the culprit to be found and dealt with as soon as possible. As you can imagine, this has put a great deal of pressure on me. Another base can always be rebuilt but how do we know that one won't be destroyed as well."

Oh yes. Winston was very familiar with the details and those that were kept on the hush. The business however, exclusive and elusive still had its hindrances. Generally, any confidential or sometimes personal information tends to spread fast among the masses.

It was well known that Dimitri Dmitriev heavily operated much of the commercial and international sex trafficking network with influence around the globe. His illicit activities generated a massive income from himself and those of the High Table. He imagined that the incident didn't just affect the buyers in New York but it also affected the prospective buyers in other countries as well. It was inevitable that he would seek out information about the individual responsible for decimating his operation not once but twice.

"With both operations based in New York had been completely desecrated. It has caused me quite a fair amount of problems."

"I'm sure it has."

"But as you know…I must follow orders the same as everyone under the table. So that is why I'm here."

"What information have you gathered so far?"

The other businessman looked back at him with a similar stare, his eyes glinting with an indescribable mien. "For some time, I've been compiling a comprehensive list of assassins within New York and I believe I've narrowed it down to ten suspects. With time the list only grows shorter."

"Oh? You believe the person to be a highly trained killer?"

"A hitman, yes."

"This person knew to purge our database system, something not even most would be privy to. The first indicator." The man mused, stroking his neatly trimmed beard as if in deep thought. "Our database was wiped completely clean. Had the server not backed up the data beforehand. I'm quite certain we would have an even bigger issue on our hands. We've checked through the inventory records. There are a few that managed to escape their fate for the time being. We're begun working on retrieving the missing stock."

"Secondly, the bodies of my personnel had already been…cleaned up. Another major indicator."

"However, the perpetrator in question had left before the cleaning service arrived to conduct their business. Which is quite unfortunate but we do know that the cleaner was paid handsomely."

Winston was not surprised to hear that. Charlie, for all his professionalism and discreteness, would never turn down a job if he was compensated generously.

"From what I've already gathered, it leads me to believe that this is no novice who committed a random act. No, I'm convinced that we're dealing with someone who's highly experienced, extremely tactful and knows how to cover all their tracks exceedingly well."

"I wish to know their motive….their reasoning." he said, taking a measured sip from his glass. "I thought perhaps that with your network or knowledge you could provide me with a list of potential perpetrators."

"Oh?"

There was a code of conduct that must be adhered to at all times. Like most in the profession, he believed in rules and consequences just as much as the next. He knew he needed to wield his power carefully and strategically as there were various factors at play.

Steely cerulean eyes centered directly on his person, all the mirth seemed to vacate the room in a split second. "I wanted to ask you this face to face, seeing as you happened to know nearly every face in this giant city. Do you personally know an individual who may have had a hand in it?"

Instantly guarded, Winston's jaw tightened and firmly set as he stated, "No…I can't say that I do."

Hearing what he did and taking the time to mull over the added information provided. Internally, Winston could only think of one person with the skill to do so and slip away like they had never been there in the first place. And that man in question was John Wick.

Over the years he'd been given a specific name - Lo Spectro, 'The Ghost'.

What bothered him the most was that he now had reason to suspect the elusive hitman of being responsible. Winston had known the other man long enough to do that he never did anything without reason. But what reason would there be for taking down an entire operation and then doubling back to do that very same thing a second time? The only answer was that the man had to have felt wronged in some way. Which made for quite the conundrum considering the circumstances. What had been done for a man like John Wick to feel wronged?

For what reason would John Wick decimate an operation twice in a span of a few weeks? That was the real question.

At this point in time, Winston didn't have a valid answer but he had a feeling that could soon change. Nevertheless, the offense must've been great. Nothing was more dangerous than a man who feels as if they had been wronged. A man like John leaves nothing but carnage in his wake - he's seen it firsthand. The damage that's been done by his hand.

When he inquired about it the first time, Winston could sense more than the inferred layer of secrecy and evasiveness that usually surrounded the man. Worst still, he could not shake the feeling that the other man seemed to be hiding something. It was becoming rather apparent that his friend had not been forthright with him and clearly had no intention of being at any point.

Knowing his old friend, if there was something he didn't want known then it was likely not to ever be revealed.

Nonetheless, the hotel manager would never share his conflicted thoughts with the other man. He would not tell a single soul of what he heavily suspected. He may very well be off base with his assumption but it highly doubted that very much. But that was not the only thing that concerned him. Lately, he's managed to obtain information from a reliable source about his longtime friend possibly being connected with a civilian. Who he's been told is a woman.

That was what shocked him the most because none of it made sense. John Wick did not associate himself personally with just anyone without a just cause. Sighing dejectedly, he vowed to get to the bottom of it on his own.

For a brief moment, the hotel owner struggled to find the right words without some type of incrimination. "Have you once considered that it may be one culprit responsible?"

"No. This is only one man's doing. I'm sure of it."

The other man nodded. "Well, it's difficult to argue with that kind of resolution. Now while I'm afraid that at the moment I'm just as stumped as you are on the matter. However, I will see what my sources can provide." He confidently assured the business man.

Winston knew he could not in good conscience refuse the man any information knowing that the high table lurked in the shadows as they always did. His hands were tied. This was the best course of action as far as he was concerned.

With that having ended the conversation, the man stood from the chair, offering his gratitude. "Thank you Winston, I knew I could count on you." With a graceful sweep of his coat, the man turned to head out of the office before he stopped and turned to offer Winston another smirk. "I think we're getting close."

Once he was left alone in the room once more, the man slumped back in his chair.

Whatever the outcome of it all couldn't possibly be good. Brows pulled in, the older man's forehead slightly creased in worry. Things were not well within New York. It all felt very much like a bad omen.

A storm was approaching and it was liable to wreck everything in its path.

"Vincit qui se vincit." He uttered in the working recesses of his own mind.


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Translations: "Vincit qui se vincit." - He who conquers who conquers himself.