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I pull up the camera access showing me what her cell phone can see, and all I get is an image pointing at the ceiling, showing half a light fixture. It must be lying flat on the bathroom counter. Nothing to prove whether or not she’s up to some shit in there that will require placing her under constant surveillance.
Christ, the simplest solution would be to let her get on with it, or I’ll finish her off myself with a bullet. Thorne isn’t here, he doesn’t need to know the details. It’ll be less hassle for all of us.
I move to exit the browser window, but that’s when I hear it.
Her panting breaths.
I can’t see anything, but the sound is immediately obvious to me.
There’s the faintest whine and a hitch in her throat.
It’s whisper soft. Barely audible. But inside the small, silent room, every tiny murmuration echoes off the tiles.
As my fists clench into blanched knuckles, hovering over the keyboard, what follows is far worse. The distinct sounds of movement and wetness hover in the air. Skin and sex and the act of plunging in and out. The exact kind of filthy noise that means she’s fucking herself with either her fingers or one of those many toys.
Fuck.
I’ve never been into watching porn. Getting pussy or ass whenever I need it is never an issue, and the performative side of watching actors screw each other on screen with their fake expressions and exaggerated cries does nothing for me.
But this…the faintest hint of this girl bringing herself to orgasm? That has my cock hard and pressing insistently against my fly. Fucking fuck. Small, throaty noises, like she’s biting back whimpers keep coming through the speakers, and I can’t seem to turn the goddamn thing off.
All I can do is readjust myself and grip the edge of the table, imagining what her dripping cunt looks like as she pumps in and out of herself. Whether she uses two fingers or a fat dildo.
I’m unable to hold back the torrent of filth my brain is conjuring up, and one particularly vivid picture forms in my mind to fill in the unknown. A sight of her splayed out on the bathroom counter with knees spread wide, pinching a reddened nipple in one hand while the other impales up to her knuckle; thumb rubbing her clit.
There’s only the rapid stab of my pulse in my throat and surging cock, as I remain trapped here, followed by a whispered groan of pleasure before things go quiet.
My balls are tight, and my leaking dick wants to go finish what she’s damn well started.
Slamming the laptop shut, I dig the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. Screw the little bitch for putting on a cock tease like that. Thank fuck Ky is out with Thorne right now because he’d sniff out her needy cunt from a mile away, and other than fucking his throat to shut him up, I’m not going to admit that my body reacted that way.
Anyone remotely interested in pussy would get hard at the sound of a girl fingering themselves.
It’s got nothing to do with her.
18
There’s a spray of blood on my boots and a body wrapped in plastic my team needs to dispose of.
Standing here in a drafty warehouse on the far edge of the port, all I can smell is the mix of copper and brackish water and fear.
Meanwhile, my phone has been blowing up in my pocket while I’ve been busy, and I know exactly who is responsible.
Wiping off the blood splatters, I toss the stained rag on top of the body. They’ll be here shortly, so while I wait, I fish out my phone—ignoring all of Ky’s messages for the moment.
Confirmed.
It’s all I need to send to the unknown number to alert them that I’ve eliminated this prick. There’s no telling what he did, or who he screwed over within the Anguis, but he’d run out of favors that involved keeping himself breathing. He was nothing but an informant, one of their low-level soldiers who ran deep in circles of filth. Someone who had tried—and failed—to become initiated as a member.
I have no issue with ending the lives of those who spend theirs abusing others. This fucker was up to his neck with the worst of the worst. Trading in minors and adults alike and doing business with Andreas Noire unbeknownst to the council.
Judging by his age, there’s every chance he played a part in selling me and my brother to the animals inside Noire House when we were children.
Seeing the fear claw his face and knowing he pissed himself as I took my time carving him up was just another step toward our bigger goal. It doesn’t bring me satisfaction to kill, but it does help me sleep better at night, knowing another piece of the rotten Noire empire has been dismantled.
And I’m in the necessary position to make sure their sickness dies with the last of them.
Hawke and I are getting closer to that goal every day.
