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17
Jude
Tor stumbles out of the bathroom, leaving me with a hard dick that’s begging to sink between her thighs. If she weren’t three sheets to the wind right now, I’d fuck her so hard she wouldn’t be able to sit down without feeling me for days. And it’s that thought that has me unfastening my fly, not giving a shit that the door to the bedroom is still half-open.
I fist my cock while the image of her naked and underneath me plays through my mind, those perfect little tits of hers bouncing with each hard thrust I’d make. I imagine watching my cock sink into her wet pussy until I’m completely buried, balls deep—that’s enough to get me really going. The fantasy plays out: Her on her knees, me fisting her hair while I fuck her mouth. Three minutes is all it takes before my muscles tighten on a groan, my balls drawing into my body as heat fires through me. That little dry humping stunt of hers has me wound so tight, come goes everywhere. The back of my skull hits the wall on a hard breath, and not long after, the sensation of pleasure ripping through me dissipates. My hand is no substitute for her pussy, but at least it took the edge off.
After I clean myself up, I go into the bedroom and find Tor passed out on the bed, her shoe-covered feet dangling off the end. The last bit of sunlight streams through the window, catching on her cheek. There’s something innocent about her even though she’s been robbed of everything, something that pulls me toward her like lightning to the ground. Something trying to convince me that since she came back, it makes this okay...
I take off her shoes, tossing them to the floor before I climb into bed beside her. I don’t even get adjusted on my pillow before she curls into me, and without hesitation, I wrap an arm around her and draw her closer. I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo. I’m relieved she didn’t leave, worried what’s going to happen now that she’s staying. She said she came back because she wants her life back, but the moment we give in to whatever fucked up form of lust this is, there will be no coming back. Not for me. Not for her. She’ll be an angel bound to a devil, a blip of light in an unending pit of darkness. And that life she wants will be far from her reach.
And that’s why I slip out from under her, closing the door behind me as I leave the room. I need to put some space between us, not just for my sanity but for clarity. Regardless of what happens between her and me, I have to find Tom Campbell, and I have to kill him, and I can’t form a rational thought around this girl.
_____
I’ve been in my office for an hour, staring at the wall when the office door creaks open. Marney strolls in and dumps a paper sack on my worktop. From the thud it makes, it sounds like a few grand’s worth of cash.
“Smith’s money,” he says, stopping in front of the desk with a concerned glare. “Caleb said the girl’s been staying in your room.” He lets out a long whistle on his way back to the door. “That’s a bad idea, boy. A bad fucking idea…”
Of course, it’s a bad idea. Just like letting her dry hump me, then jerking my shit to the thought of fucking her is a bad idea. Necking my drink, I lean back in my chair. “
He stops at the threshold, a solemn look on his face. “Saving her ain’t gonna change what happened in the past, Jude. You know that. And there ain’t nothing you can do to change her future.”
And that statement is like a poisoned-lace arrow straight through my heart.
After he leaves, I shove the paper bag of money to the side and go to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Why did Tom send Tor here? There was no tracker on her—she didn’t even have her cell phone, so what is the purpose? Did he think he’d force me to kill her and wallow in my guilt, or could it be that he knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach hurting her and trusted that I would let her go so he could get whatever information he wanted out of her? The latter seems too simple for Tom, but just as he has loyal men, so do I. It wouldn’t be that easy for him to find me, just like it’s damn near impossible for me to find him. Every guy who works for me has been combing through contacts. West and several other cops have been on the lookout. His guys in prison won’t even talk because they know the minute they do, they’ll end up dead. I try to unravel the puzzle until my head hurts, and just as I close my eyes to try to find sleep, my cell rings. A number I don’t recognize flashes over the screen, and if it weren’t from Juarez, Mexico, I would ignore it.
