Page 27 of Whispers From The Dark

“I know, you must drop off that wretched beastie to his friend’s house for the weekend. And then you come to me, do you understand?” I can almost hear her indignation through the phone. She hesitates far too long for my liking. “Sound good, dude?” I ask again, allowing Sam’s inelegant speech pattern to convince her.

A sharp intake of breath precedes a crisp and quiet yes.

“Perfect. Now be a good girl and give the man your phone so he can transfer the data like I paid him to.”

I laugh and hang up when I hear the deep breath of affront she takes, prepared to lash into me for calling her a good girl. A quick text to her new phone relays the passcode to the rental, and now all I have left to do is wait.

I settle onto the boring white couch with its boring silk accent pillows, and watch the clouds move. This time of year, there is very little color to be had except for grey, and everything inside this rental is white and gold. It is just so fucking boring. Why does white tile beside white paint beside white furniture seem to scream luxury and decadence to humans?

All of this white reminds me of hell and its frosted halls.

Eventually, the private elevator whirs to life, and I stand. I am not familiar with the feeling coursing through me, but I cannot stay still when I know Petra is on her way up.

I didn’t bother to dress Sam’s body, and now I’m wondering if I should have.

When the elevator door opens, bright winter sun illuminates the woman, reminding me of a time when I once found comfort in the divine. Her jeans are loose and low, and she’s wearing a tiny black crop top beneath an oversized leather jacket. I think this style fits her far better than her Last Drop outfits. With long, layered necklaces, ears full of piercings, and a large crossbody bag, she packs a lot of personality into a small package.

Her eyes widen, gaze darting between my borrowed eyes, this rather large dick stiffening as her tongue darts out to lick her lips, finally landing on the assortment of neon-colored sex toys I have neatly laid out on the coffee table.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.”

“Hello, love.”

She steps through the small foyer, lifting the bag over her head and discarding it on the sofa directly across from me. She sits, taking in Sam’s naked form, ready for her delectation, but based on the anxious glance she casts at the sparkly pink anal beads, she isn’t quite ready.

She does keep looking at Sam’s dick though, which is promising.

“Is Sam…like… in there, right now?”

“Yes.”

“Can he hear me?”

“At the moment, no. Why?”

“You made a deal with him.” It isn’t a question, and I can’t read her tone.

“Correct. His debts for…this.”

She frowns, a crooked line forming between her brows. Then, as if she can’t stop herself, she takes in his physique. “What is ‘this,’ exactly, Az?”

“Whatever you want it to be, darling.” My cock—mine, because it’s certainly responding to my desires at the moment—twitches, and it makes her breath hitch.

“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it? That Sam is okay with this?” She chews on her sweet lower lip.

“What makes you think he wouldn’t be okay with this, Petra? We both saw him eye-fucking you.”

“Sure, fine, but what if I’m not okay with it?” she asks, and all I do is stare back with a raised brow. I spread my arms across the back of the couch, tilting my head. She knows exactly what flashes of her imagination I saw during the few moments she’d been in Sam’s presence. She can’t help it. No human can. They are not built to ignore the desires of the flesh.

A faint flush creeps up her chest, and she busies herself with her bag.

“While you’re grappling with your denial, pull out the phone and check your email. And just so you are aware, I’m going to make it so Sam can see and hear us.”

“Whoa,” Sam says inside my mind, and despite his nudity being a surprise, he’s mostly just taken with Petra.

I can relate.

She shoots a glare at me before pulling out the new phone. After a moment of typing in usernames and passwords, she opens what I sent her.