Page 11 of Hide, Little Thief

What the hell is John doing back here? Did he see me on the security camera entering the pub with two masked men? Is it live? Will he storm the room any second and find us—find me—like this? Or is this all just a terrible, terrible coincidence?

If he hears us—or worse, catches us—in here, he’ll be furious. I’ll lose my job. Fuck, he’ll call the police on all of us, and that’s the last thing we need.

I’m sure Reaper and his companion would have no problem getting out of prison, working for the Mafia and all. But me? I’d be stuck in jail.

No . . .

No, no, no. I can’t let this happen.

Fuck, I won’t let it happen.

But when I try to get up, the grip on my arms and my hip tightens.

“Shh,” Ghost whispers in my ear, his hot breath making my neck tingle. “Don’t move.”

Despite his warning, he moves, thrusting his dick into me at a punishingly slow pace.

I gasp for air, a protest on my lips, but suddenly, Reaper’s in front of me. He slams his hand over my mouth, cutting off my noise, while his other hand wraps around my throat.

“Don’t.”

One syllable. One warning that sends an icy shiver down my spine.

How on earth am I supposed to keep quiet when he’s staring at me like he wants to ruin me while his friend fucks me painfully slow? Especially with my boss in the room next to us.

There’s no chance in hell John won’t step into his office if he’s come back to the pub in the middle of the night.

Oh God, he’s going to find us here, and . . . and . . .

Ghost grabs my knees and spreads my legs even wider, rutting into me from behind. Reaper’s hand remains firmly on my mouth. To make matters worse, his other hand curls around my neck.

My pulse skyrockets. Every single muscle in my body trembles with restraint.

As Ghost changes his angle somewhat, he gets even deeper, driving me closer to the edge. I bite down on my lip to keep the moan from slipping out, until a coppery taste fills my mouth.

Fuck . . . this feels too good. Too forbidden.

My inner walls start to clamp down on him, and the first tingling of my orgasm arises.

Reaper’s eyes blaze with fire, and his fingers tighten around my throat, cutting off more oxygen.

My vision blurs. The edges of the room melt together. The entire world narrows down to the sizzling heat between us, the torturous slow thrusts, the brutal grip on my throat, and the suffocating hand silencing every sound I make.

I faintly notice movement out of the corner of my eye, followed by a low creaking.

My entire body tenses.

Was that the office door?

I can’t turn my head—can’t move or look in that direction. I beg Reaper with my eyes to let me, but he doesn’t give me permission.

Ghost is pumping into me faster now, his fingertips grazing my clit.

A moan escapes my lips, muffled by Reaper’s palm on my mouth.

“Hush,” Ghost rasps against my ear. “Unless you want your boss to catch us like this.”

There’s no sound from the hallway. No angry boss storming in and threatening to call the police. Nothing. But I’m sure I heard something.