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CHAPTER 17
KENJI
A HAND IS A MAN’S BEST FRIEND
A buzzing noise sent me rocketing out of my bed, drenched in sweat, katana in hand, ready to take someone’s fucking head from their body. But the red lights I kept on at all times revealed nothing but an empty room. The second time the buzzing went off, I realized it was my phone and not someone coming in to try to assassinate me.
“Fucking psychotic family,” I muttered as I grabbed my cell from the bed. Two messages from an unknown number had the hair on my neck standing up. No one had this number. I glanced around my room once more to be sure no one was lurking.
“This is feeling very horror movie or some shit, and I swear if you jump out while I’m reading this message, I’ll stab you in the gut and throw you from the roof,” I yelled out, waiting for someone to reply, but no one did. Neither Caleb nor Niko would come running down to check on me. One, I could handle myself fine. But the bigger reason was that my sleep was normally plagued with nightmares and flashbacks. Niko had a nasty scar across his abdomen from running to my aid. Thank God for his quick reflexes, but I still felt like shit every time I saw the fucker without a shirt on.
Vibrations alerted me to another text, pulling me from my thoughts.
Unknown: Hey, tell Callahan that I need some fucking underwear.
Unknown: Well, I need clothes and shit in general. And when are we going to get to the killing?
Unknown: Also, sorry if I woke you up.
A goofy smile spread across my face the moment my brain figured out who was texting me. My fingers flew across the screen as I responded. The dark emotions from moments ago were forgotten.
Me: Little one, how did you get this number? And are you telling me this because you don’t think Caleb will listen if it comes from you?
Me: Honestly, you probably should’ve asked the big guy to tell Caleb.
Unknown: Have you seen how tight that man’s pants are? Those fucking thighs of his take up every inch of fabric. How the fuck was I supposed to get my hand in there to steal his phone? You just leave yours lying around.
Unknown: Bad habit, by the way.
Her message caught me by surprise, and I laughed out loud. The woman was hilarious when she wasn’t busy shutting people out. But I knew the effects of fucked-up families when I saw them. Her attitude around her uncle was survival mode. My breath quickened at the thought of what might’ve happened to her.
Did her uncle make her fight her cousins to determine who was worthy of eating that day like my father had? I wanted to bust into the asshole’s home and run my blade through his chest. But I couldn’t. Plus, I barely knew the woman. I might like pussy, but I knew I wouldn’t jeopardize our goals over this one.
Me: I have noticed his thighs. Want me to send you a picture of him in briefs?
Unknown: Are you going to tell Caleb or not? Because I would really rather avoid the asshole, or I’m going to have to hold another weapon to his junk.
I smiled at the memory of Caleb’s pale face when he realized she had a blade poised at the family jewels. He should commission a stab-proof cup since she was always gunning for his junk.
Me: Fine. I’ll arrange it. Anything else you need? A picture of my thighs? Those are nice too.
Unknown: I’m sure they are. Night, Kenji. XX
My head hit the pillow. I was too restless. I needed a release if I was going to fall back to sleep. The way I wanted to release the tension wasn’t an option. Not even a full minute had passed since I’d sworn off her pussy, and I was already thinking about it. I’d been so fucking close to shoving my tongue into it while she was strapped to a chair. So close to swirling my tongue around her bundle of nerves before biting down.
A groan left my lips as I recalled how those fuckable lips of hers asked me to eat out her dripping cunt. My balls tightened, and my underwear felt like it was strangling my now-hard cock. In seconds, I was out of bed, the cold of the concrete floor doing little to cool my heated flesh.
“Where the fuck are you?” I mumbled, digging through the pile of random shit in my closet. Now that I didn’t live in a home where minimalism was demanded, my room looked like an upscale thrift store. A visual cacophony of shit I loved, like the vintage guitars that hung on my wall beside a Book of Mormon marquee sign I’d stolen. Or my collection of traditional Japanese noh masks displayed above my bed.
My fingers wrapped around what I’d been searching for. Giving it a few rough pulls to untangle it from whatever other shit was in the pile in my walk-in closet, I practically ran back to my bed, checking the angle of my phone as I set it up on the tripod.
The mattress slumped underneath my weight as I leaped back into it, making sure to stay in the frame. Scar better appreciate the production levels going into this, the red lights, and the tripod. Shit, I needed music to add some ambiance to the hand fucking I was about to do.
As soon as I pressed play, my dick was out, twitching at the thought of the breathy moans she’d made when I ran my tongue along the cut on her thigh. The metallic tang still lingered.
I gripped my heavy shaft, rubbing my thumb against the ridge of my head while my other hand snaked down to cup my balls, imagining it was hers. The action pulled a moan from me, and my dick somehow managed to get harder as I envisioned her perky nipples glistening with my saliva. My thumb swiped the precum beading up at the tip, spreading it over my shaft as I made a few languid pulls, looking directly into the camera.
“Scar, here’s a gift for you. Material for when you use your fingers to fuck that leaking cunt of yours,” I said to my phone.
