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Somedays I love my job. I get to fuck and kill to my heart’s content. Other days, like today, I wonder if I should have run away and joined the circus instead. I am very bendy after all.
“Harder,” I purr, channeling my inner sex kitten as I wait for the man to hurry up and die already.
My mark tonight is Marty Jones. The sixty-three-year-old president of a billion-dollar company.
He’s also responsible for the hit on his nineteen-year-old former secretary after she announced she was pregnant with his love child.
Marty has a type—young, dumb, and full of cum—which is where I come in.
Finding an in with the man was surprisingly easy. I’d come to the swanky club he frequented wearing a gravity-defying dress that showed more nipple than it covered and the curve of my butt cheeks whenever I walked.
It’s the kind of dress that screams fuck me.
Hell, I’d broken some handsy guy’s fingers when he tried to slip them inside my tunnel of love as I made my way through the crowd.
Why does everyone assume they can ride for free?
I’d made my way to the bar and ordered myself a vodka on the rocks, and waited for Marty to arrive and approach the bar, as per his usual routine.
As soon as he was behind me, I whirled around and tipped my drink all over my exposed breasts before, accidentally-on-purpose, dripping some onto the crotch of his pants.
“Oh, my goodness! I’m so clumsy. Please forgive me.” I gasped, channeling a nineteen-fifties movie heroine whilst ignoring the two frowning bodyguards behind him.
I grabbed the napkin from the bar and dropped to my knees, rubbing at his flaccid cock before looking up at him with big, innocent eyes.
And twitch, twitch, twitch, goes his trouser snake. Okay, snake might be pushing it, but I’m not a dick snob. As long as it gets the job done, who am I to be picky?
“It’s fine, my dear. Don’t you worry. Accidents happen.”
“Please. I feel terrible. There has to be some way I can make it up to you?” I blinked before licking my lips, drawing his attention to my mouth.
“It’s fine. But if you insist, how about you join me in the VIP area for a drink?”
Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.
“VIP? Wow. I could tell you were someone important. You just have this air about you.” I stroked his ego while giving his cock one last stroke under the guise of drying him.
He preened at my words. Between that and what my hands were doing, he failed to spot the red flags.
His eyes glanced down at my chest, and he swallowed.
Yeah, nothing fogs up a man’s brain faster than a pair of hooters. In his imagination, I bet he’s already painted them with his cum.
“Here, let me help you up.”
“Oh, such a gentleman. Thank you. I wish the boys I knew had your manners.”
“How old are you, sweetie pie?”
Sweetie pie? Yikes, I fought back the urge to gag.
“It’s my eighteenth birthday today. That’s why I’m here, to celebrate.”
I placed my hand in his waiting one and let him pull me up. I stumbled into him slightly.
“Gosh, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think the Vodka went to my head.”
“Bad girl. Drinking when you’re not old enough,” he scolded me lightly.
I giggled and leaned against him, placing my lips to his ear.
“You won’t tell on me, will you, sir?”
His meaty hand slid around my waist and pulled me closer.
“Your secret is safe with me. Come on. Let’s get you another drink and we can get to know each other a little better. What do you say?” he asked, lifting his hand to trail his pinkie over the swell of my breasts.
“Sounds awesome. Thank you, Mister…
“Smith. John Smith.” He grinned at me.
Dirty fucking liar.
I ooh and awe as he takes me to the VIP section for a drink. He ordered for us both, impressed that I’d chosen the same whiskey as him instead of a frou-frou drink.
I happen to like frou-frou drinks as much as the next girl, but I wanted him to think I was trying to impress him a little.
He excused himself to use the restroom, so I tracked him as he left, pretending to be oblivious to guard number one slipping a little something extra into my drink before garnishing it with a cherry.
Yeah, because cherries are known for their pairing with whiskey. I’m not sure what school for criminals this asshole went to, but I’m guessing he flunked out of it.
Placing my drink on the tray next to the other glass and the bottle of top-shelf whiskey, he walked it over to our table and placed it down without a word.
Lifting the bottle off the tray, he put it on the table as I rushed to help him.
“Oh, here, let me.” I lifted both glasses and with a quick sleight of hand, I snagged the cherry and switched the glasses.
I placed the cherry between my lips and bit down.
“Hmm… juicy.”
He didn’t say anything, but his eyes stared at my mouth for a few seconds before he shook himself out of it.
He took in the glasses and the cherry in my mouth, adding two and two together and getting the wrong answer, as I knew he would.
My target reappeared from the restroom, drawing the attention of both goons as I leaned back with my glass in hand.
I pressed the rim to my lips and drank the whole thing down as Marty tilted his head to the drugging goon in question.
He nodded, and a smile spread across his face.
I reminded myself that stabbing this motherfucker in the eye with my stiletto was going to be messy, and these were new shoes. But for two minutes, I was tempted to just say fuck it.
I mean, I was already offering him everything on a silver platter, and yet he felt the need to have me drugged too? What’s the deal? Unless, of course, he was planning something a little more than a quick dirty fuck.
It’s going to be a very disappointing night all around for poor Mr. Smith.
“Another?” He gestured to my glass as he stepped up to the table.
“No, I better not. I’m a bit of a lightweight.” I giggled and twirled my hair.
“I tell you what. I don’t usually do this, but there is something about you, a connection between us. I have a lot of money, which means a lot of women try to weasel their way into my life just to use me.”
He frowned sadly, or I think that’s what he did. He could just have been constipated. It’s hard to tell.
“But you seem like a genuine, nice girl. How about we move to one of the private suites, so we can…talk some more?”
His eyes roved over my body as he picked up his tainted glass of whiskey and took a swig.
I didn’t think talk meant what he thought it did, but I jumped up with exuberance, which would have my friend Reese scowling at me.
She hates anything peppy, or happy sunshine people. Or, well, people, really.
“I’d love to, but I have to warn you.” I walked toward him and pressed my lips to his ear. “I’m a little tipsy, and well, I need…” I trailed off, acting coy as I let my fingers drift across his chest and down his stomach.
“Oh, I know what you need, little girl.” He snagged my hand and tugged me through a set of double doors that led to one of the very exclusive and very discrete back rooms.
His guards came with us, which isn’t unusual. I could take them all out if need be, but if everything played out as it should, then it wouldn’t be necessary.
Marty pulled me to the left and sat on a long chaise lounge as the guards moved to the other side of the room, where they pretended not to watch the show their soon-to-be-former employer was putting on.
It didn’t faze me having people watch me. In this case, it would only work in my favor.
He looked up at me and took a healthy glug of his drink before his eyes turn hard.
