The Trouble with Loving a Milkovich Part 4

Prostitution Infestation

Shouting voices wake us from an opiate induced sleep. "Jesus fuckkk," I groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Am i fucking high," Collin starts, "or is that another fucking language?" Disgruntled, I pull myself up from the bed. Opening the door, I'm greeted to living room full of barely dressed women, yelling and arguing in what I assume to be Russian. Walking into the kitchen, I see Terry sitting at the table and Mandy and Kenyatta standing at the oven. The front door slam shuts. Thoroughly confused, I grab a glass, fill it with water, and ask, "What the fuck is going on?" Terry flips another page of the newspaper. "Mickey's pissed about what his wife gets paid so he brought her and the rest of em all here." His response does nothing to clear up any confusion I still have. "I'm too hungover for this shit," I rub my temples, sipping from the water. "You drank last night?" Terry asks. "Gotta drown reality out somehow, Terry," looking into the living room, I add, "this shit too, my god.." Slamming my bedroom door, I see Collin's figure shudder under the blankets. "Easyyyy, christ," he mutters, the blanket dulling out the volume of his complaint. Throwing myself onto the bed, a mild sweat breaks out over my body; I havent done enough to fully withdrawal, but my system remembers what to do when it's out of opiates. Laying there, I tell Collins form, "Mickey brought home a bunch of his wife's friends." Collin let's out a grunt that i decipher as uninterest. "They're hookers." At this, he rolls beneath the blanket to face me. "Are you fucking serious?" Laughing, I curl up next to him. "What the fuck next?" I ask comically. Throwing the blankets off his head, his still closed eyes point in my direction. "We need to set some boundaries," he tells me. "I agree; no fucking the prostitutes, but that should go without saying." Its his turn to laugh. Once the moment passes, he opens his eyes and reaches for my hand. "I'm talking about the dope. It got outt hand last time." Pulling his hand to my chest, I say, "I agree." Nodding, he continues. "No needles. Never enough to make us sick. Like, once or twice a day we do a line but try to go a day or two every now and then."
"Makes sense to me," I murmur, the thought of mother starting to burrow put of the recesses of my mind. "And about your mother-" he begins, but k cut him off. "I'm not ready," I answer honestly, closing my eyes. Hurt gnaws at my heart, but it's the anger that scares me most.. the regret that my final thoughts of my mother will be the fact that I found out she was the one who sent the hit out on me. As though reading my thoughts, he rubs my cheek and reminds me, "we dont know forsure it was her..." angrily, I thrust his hand from my face. "Yeah, Collin, we do." Dropping the topic, I feel him shuffling around the side of the bed. "Hold still and sniff," he instructs, his finger under my nose. Eyes still closed, I obey. Feeling instantly better, I open my eyes and see him do the same. "Ughh," he groans, feeling the way I do. Turning to face me, his hand goes down my stomach; the tips of his fingers play with my panty line. Softly, I moan as I feel his fingers work their way inside of me. His mouth touches the spot where his name is tattooed. "All this talk of prostitutes turn you on?" I ask, suppressing a moan as his tongue goes inside my pussy. Pulling himself up, he crawls up my body, covers my mouth with his hand, tells me, "I'm about to fuck you like one," then rolls me over and shoves my head into the pillow. Feeling myself getting wet, I grip the pillow as his hardened cock enters me. Pulling the back of my hair, he fucks my pussy til it's all I can focus on; pressing my face against the pillow, he spreads my butt cheeks with his other hand and sticks a finger up my ass. "Mmmm, fucking slut," he whispers into my ear. My heart skips a beat and I moan for more. "I bet you like that," he continues, his finger still in my ass as he pumps harder. Before I know it, I'm coming all over his cock, my legs shaking. Collin groans and keeps fucking me, forcing me to come again. Once I've come a third time, he releases in me and collapses on to the bed beside me. "Oh my God," he mutters, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You know," he turns to me, "it's the guys who are supposed to come quickly." Still catching my breathe, I push him with my hand, wiping my hair from my face. "Fuck you Collin!" I laugh, adding, "all these years, and you still know how to fuck me like the when we first got together." Sitting up, I pull a cigarette out and light it. Taking a drag, I hand it to him. "If your dick wasn't as big as it is and if you didn't know how to use it, I probably wouldn't have married you." Turning to me in surprise, he goes, "are you serious?!" Laughing, I take the cigarette back from him. "Good thing we never have to find out," I wink, handing him back the cigarette and putting his sloppily wet dick in my mouth. "Jesus," he mutters, continuing to smoke as he gets hard in my mouth. "And if you didnt know how to suck my dick like a pornstar, I probably would fuck one of those hookers." My head shoots up and I tighten my grip on his dick. "Really, Collin?" I ask, half irritated, half amused. "OW OW ITS A JOKE!" he yells, laughing a little. Shaking my head, I put his dick back in my mouth. "Now hold still so I can face fuck you," he tells me, grabbing the sides of my face and sliding my mouth up and down his dick.