The Tax Collector (GirlxIntersex) Book 1

Chapter 20

Chapter 20
Lucia POV

I awoke just in time to see Valentino leave the restroom. She did not wear a suit, but rather a basic T-shirt and pants. I gazed at her body. The t-shirt fits perfectly, however the jeans are big. Was she heading to her work like that? It was a Sunday, and I was convinced it was OK to dress up.

She brushes her short black hair before tying the long strands in elastic bands, leaving the short strands sticking out in a jumble. I turned over and peered at her more comfortably. I knew I should say good morning, but my lips felt like they were stuck together.

I stick to waving at her, but she didn't seemed to notice me, as she flexed her sharp jawline. A smile came to my face, and I lightly stroked my lips with my finger. She makes me smile? Her unassuming action makes me grin. I smile even more widely.

She abruptly turned, her brows wrinkled, but then a grin slowly appeared on her lips. "You are awake. Good morning."

I nodded. I didn't trust my morning voice. It was croaky or too hoarse to be heard. Anyone who truly heard it, would be Martinez.

I slid the blanket off my body, revealing my bare physique. Her eyes bulge, in wonder, given she was who clothed me last night before bed. It was hot.

"It was hot." I croaked. I tightened my lips, swearing not to speak again until my voice cleared up. I gently hopped out of bed and grabbed my clothing from the floor.

"You could've turn the air on?"

"What about the air?" I croaked again. I exhaled. She had heard my unpleasant morning voice; there was no need to disguise it again. The expedition was very unsuccessful. "I can't turn the air on."

"No, baby. The air conditioner." She pointed at the white air conditioner that was on the wall, just adjacent to the balcony window.

"How do you control it?" I inquired, glancing at the gadget. She giggled as she approached the dresser and picked up what seemed to be a remote.

She came back to me.

"This button will turn it on." She stated this while showing me a green button next to a red button, her fingers sliding closer to it. "This will turn it off." Her fingers then moved to the plus and minus symbol buttons. "These buttons determine how high or low you want the temperature."

"I probably won't utilize it."

"Why not?"

"It is too complex. I prefer to sleep nude." I remarked as I bent and slipped my panties on. As I tugged the panties up, her gaze shifted to my thighs. It was the lightest area of my body, yet it was also full with bruises.

"My last name is Diaz. It was my mother's last name." At random, I said. She ought to be aware of a bare minimum of my background if I were to live with her.

"You got your mother's name instead, why?"

"I don't know, I assume they weren't on good terms at the time, so I guess I happened to get caught in the thick of it. My mom was from a different part of town, as was my dad. They were creeping around."

"And there sneaking around, get you to come by."

"I suppose so."

"Are all of your injuries from Martinez?"

I shake my head. "They are from other guys." I shrugged. "It is not a huge deal." I replied, pushing it away.

I didn't want to tell her or anybody else about my problems. However, it appeared that as the hours passed, I was revealing more information.

"All those guys have damaged you."

She moved closer to me. My throat constricted, and I couldn't breathe. I gazed at her chest. She has a flat breast, which I assume is due to the bra she is wearing. Looking at her upper torso, I recognized two things, perhaps three. I recognized how fit she was, how much she wasn't just wearing the wrist tattoo, and how stunning she was.

I honestly wished I were an American princess.

White. Blonde, with gorgeous lips, wearing great clothing, and having flawless skin, she would undoubtedly want to have sex with me. From her perspective, I was either a girl she was assisting or a girl she would utilize in the future.

I gasped slightly as I felt her fingertips make touch with just beneath my left breast...I suppose it was the right breast; I couldn't tell the difference. My gaze shifted to her hand, and I watched as she carefully took hold of my shirt.

Would she fuck me, or what? For the first time, I did not feel my body shake. Last night, it trembled when I stood in front of her. Now it was as if I was expecting her to do something sexual with me.
I guess I want her to, or perhaps my brain was conditioned to believe that everyone who provided me help should sleep with me.

Her feet moved closer, and I gasped as I smelled her fresh shower body wash. God, she smells so delicious. She smells like heaven, rain, and pure nature paradise. Perhaps it was my nose being theatrical.

At last, I raised my gaze to her face and noticed her lovely grin. How can someone who kills grin so gracefully and gloriously?

"I will never, ever allow someone touch or hurt you again." She uttered it like a pledge. Like a promise. And I would believe her; I truly want to.

My heart want to believe in her; my heart knew she meant well, but my head permits me to distrust anybody. Because, while such statements seem like wonderful pledges and serious vows, she may easily backtrack.

She carefully put the t-shirt over my body, covering it from her gaze. I wish she hadn't. I want her to take me. I believe I was seeing things since I witnessed how her cock swelled up when she saw me yesterday, but it vanished in an instant.

"Why don't you go to the restroom, do your morning routines, and then meet me in the kitchen?"

I nodded in accord.