I told you she was thirsty.
My crew call me The Snake because of my ability to sneak up on my targets unaware. By the time they know I’m coming, my knife is already halfway across their throats.
Justine is too smart for that. She senses my presence long before I can brush away the weighed-down curl hiding the scar I spotted earlier.
As she stills, her breathing turns choppy and loud. She stares at the chair I left neatly tucked under the table, her scent imposingly strong. I want to arch her over the table, hike her fire-engine red skirt over her thighs, then eat her cunt as I’m sure it’s never been eaten, but I can’t. This room has eyes, and I’m not their handler.
Usually, that fact wouldn’t bother me. Gangbangs are more about the number of eyes on you than how many participants there are, but for some reason, a voice in my head is begging for me not to treat Justine like I do the whores at Clarks. It thinks she’s special, that she should be treated like a princess, and for some fucked-up reason, the devil on my shoulder agrees with its less evil counterpart.
There’s no doubt Justine is threatened by me. The misting of sweat on her skin proves this without a doubt, but she doesn’t fear me. She’s afraid she finds me attractive, and is cautious about the trouble I bring to the table, but curiosity is still her strongest emotion of them all.
It’s for the best. My persuasive techniques almost always end with body parts being sunk into a deep watering hole.
When a creak sounds through my ears, I look up. My endeavor not to railroad Justine into submission flies out the window when I spot her race for the door. She can’t trust herself to be alone with me, and for once in my life, I’m inclined to agree with her.
A squeak pops from her mouth when I reach the door a mere second faster than her. I slap it shut with my palm before using my other hand to silence her squeals. She’s not screaming to alert the guards she’s in danger. She is shocked about how agilely I moved.
“My crew calls me ‘The Snake.’ So do theahrensI bed.” I take a moment to relish in her scent before leaning into her even more. “But you, my sweet Justine, you can call meCatacha.”
The nicknames I chose are perfect for us. She’s an angel seeking chaos, and I am a demon seeking peace. Together, we will be explosive.
After burrowing my nose into her molten-red hair, I squash the fear I feel pulsating through her veins with my body before warning myself to slow the fuck down. My eagerness is making me rush, which will only give me half the thrill. With this being the most playful I’ve felt in years, I don’t want it over quickly.
“I won’t hurt you, Justine.”
My eyes bounce around the room, confused as to who spoke those five words. They projected from the direction of my mouth, but my voice was unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It was almost protective, like Justine has my sworn pledge that she’ll forever be safe.
She doesn’t. But it isn’t her life at risk. It is her sanity.
When her squeaky breaths stop whistling through my fingers, I press my lips to the shell of her ear. “If I remove my hand, will you squeal?”
My stomach’s response to the moisture sliding down her cheeks when she shakes her head is new. I usually see tears as a sign of weakness. Everyone uses them. Men, children, women determined to break you. My mother was the worst of them all. Even while throwing me to the wolves, she shed crocodile tears, so I should be more angered by Justine’s tears than frustrated by them.
With my past weighing down my faith, I snarl, “Don’t break my trust, Justine,” before lowering my hand from her mouth to the vein fluttering in her neck. When she keeps her word, I get honest. “I thought we had a connection,Ahren, but when I came to offer you assistance, you bolted for the door without even saying goodbye. It’s rude to run off without first issuing a farewell. That’s your second strike of the day. One more and I don’t think we can be friends. You might be too naughty for me.”
She sucks down a big breath before raising her sinless eyes to my corrupt ones. “I wasn’t meaning to be impolite. I was just rushing to have these documents lodged with the court before 5 PM. Unless you want to spend the next three nights in lockup, you need to let me go.”
The growl her scent rumbled in my chest escapes when I murmur, “I think the pleasure would outweigh the penance.”
I grind my stiffened shaft against her ass to ensure she can’t mistake what I’m referencing. It sparks more than need in her eyes. She’s begging to resurrected from the dead. To live. And fear isn’t rousing her pleas. It’s me.
“I’m flattered you think I’m worth spending three nights in a concrete cell…”
Her reply shifts to a moan when I bring my lips close enough to her ear, tiny beads of condensation are left in the wake of my zealous breaths. When the scent of her hungry cunt lingers into my nostrils, my zipper bites the head of my cock. Despite an audience, he wants to be sunk into her heat.
“I don’tthinkyou’ll be worth three days in lockup,Ahren. Iknowyou’ll be worth it.”
I bite her earlobe, wordlessly warning her how close to the edge I am. I’m teetering dangerously, trapped between wanting to rule my empire and slaying anyone responsible from me not taking her now—Vladimir included.
Pretending a hard and fast fuck in one of Las Vegas PD’s many holding rooms is worth scarifying the vengeance I’ve been striving for since I was sixteen is fucking ludicrous, but it’s also the most honest I’ve ever been. That’s how bad I want to hear Justine screaming my name. I climbed the mountain, I reached the summit, now I’m dangling one foot over the cliff edge to prove my life is more edgy than it is mundane.
I could have both her and my revenge, but that would need a commitment from both sides of the fence.
The angel and the demon.
Heaven and hell.
Her and me.
