And I don't care if thinking that makes me a pussy. Her goddamned bare skin, smooth and supple, curled against mine, teased me into the early hours of the morning. And when I inhaled the scent of her citrus shampoo, I would have bought a motherfucking orange orchard so I could bottle up that goodness and smell her every day of my life. But I didn't need any lemon trees. I could just have her. Take her. Keep her. If I didn't have to meet with my lawyer to try and get that asshole Frank Grotto off my back, I would have stayed in that suite, in that bed, waited until she woke and then ridden her all day long. But I don't own this casino because I sleep on Egyptian cotton until noon. I own this goddamned place because I don't let up, don't wait on people to come to me. I come when I want it, where I want. The same way I fuck women. However the hell I please.
