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CHAPTER ONE
HUNTER
Sarah is the flavor of the night. I don’t fuck them more than once. A decade ago, I was different. In love. Fuck that girl was everything to me until she was nothing to me. I thought Sassy would be the girl I married and had a family with. She left me for my own fucking father. She broke me that day. Now, I fuck them and toss them away like trash. I’m an asshole, but they know what they’re signing up for. I don’t lead them to think there will be more. I'm a one-and-done guy, and I’m honest about it.
Brutally-fucking-honest.
Grabbing her hair, I wind it around my fist and push her over my couch, slamming into her. I make her whimper. I fucking love that. This is the only position I fuck in. I don’t look into their eyes while I make them come. That’s too intimate. That’s when they form ideas about making me fall for them. Silly bitches.
Pushing my hips into her, I hit that spot with my piercings that always makes them lose their minds.
She’s no different. Sarah digs her nails into my couch while she screams my name. For a brief moment, I wonder if Sassy would like the barbells in my dick, before pushing her from my mind.
A few more pumps and I’m filling the condom with a groan. I pull out and go to the bathroom to dispose of the rubber.
When I come back, Sarah is sitting on my couch.
“Get dressed. Time to go.”
She gazes at me with sad brown eyes, “Don’t you want me to stay the night? You can use me all night long.”
I chuckle, “No, you can go. I got what I needed.”
The disappointment is evident in her expression, but she doesn’t argue. Blowing out a big breath, she rises from the couch and gets dressed. When I say I fuck only once, I mean it. I don’t keep them here for the night and fuck them repeatedly. It’s literally one-and-done. Sometimes they misread me and think I mean one night. I don’t. I am a man with needs. Like any other man, I like to get laid. Keeping them for the whole night confuses things. I don’t want confusion. I just want to come in a wet pussy.
After she leaves, I head to the shower. I still think about Jade or Sassy, as I called her. I wish I didn’t. You would think, after ten years, I’d be over it. I’m not. Maybe I never will be.
I’m pulling on my sweatpants and T-shirt when my phone alerts me that an intruder is attempting to enter my house through a window. I’m guessing it’s a hired man because who in their right mind attempts to break into an assassin's house?
I grab a knife and zip ties and put them into my pocket. After pulling my boots on and getting my gun, I quickly walk downstairs and out my door. I walk around to my office window, where my security system alerted me, he is trying to get in. Standing behind him I enjoy myself as I watch him struggle.
“Motherfucker,” he mutters under his breath.
“These windows are as secure as Fort Knox. You’ll never get in that way.”
He freezes, like he’s afraid to turn around.
I chuckle, “Alright, bad guy. Drop the knife, put any weapons on the ground in front of you, and drop to your knees.”
He turns to me, knife in hand, “You drop to your knees, asshole.”
I sigh, “Fuck. I wanted to go to bed early. Watch a littleESPN, maybe jerk off, and go to sleep. But if you insist.”
Kicking him in the stomach, he hits his head against my window and falls onto the grass. I bring my black boot down onto his hand still gripping the knife. He screams in pain but opens his hand, and the knife is free.
Leaning down, I grab the blade and toss it out of his reach. I pat him down and find a firearm. Emptying it, I put the ammo in my pocket, and toss it with his knife. I live far enough out in the country, so I’m not worried about anyone finding them before I return, but you can never be too safe.
He grunts when I flip him over and grab the zip ties from my pocket. I bind his wrists behind his back.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”
Another chuckle erupts from my chest, “Oh, where is the fun in that? We’re going to chat first, bad guy.”
Lifting him off the ground, I take him into my garage and down to my basement, also known as a torture chamber. It’s soundproof, so no one would hear his screams even if they were on my property. It also has hoses hanging from the ceiling and a few drains on the floor. Easy clean-up is my preference. I don’t want to spend hours scrubbing the floor or having an employee do it.
When we walk into the basement, he begs, “Please. Let me go. I didn’t get inside; I didn't do anything.”
I lay him on the table, roll him to his side and cut the zip ties before rolling him onto his back again. I cuff his arms to one end and his legs to the other end, securing them to the legs of the table.
