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Good fucking God. I almost come in my pants, my whole body shuddering with intense satisfaction. I try to hold onto it, but I don’t think I can, and when I yank the tattoo gun back out and blood spurts from Crew’s carotid artery, splattering across my chest and mixing with the spilled ink on the floor, I can’t take it a second longer.
I explode, coming in my pants like a fucking teenager. My hips jolt with the intense release, and as Crew holds my gaze, his blood quickly soaking me, all I can do is stare back at him.
Holy fuck. I didn’t even get to stroke myself before coming. Not even a squeeze. Sometimes I like to play around first, you know, really draw it out, edge myself just a little before finally allowing myself to come, but fuck. Today, my cock had a brain of his own.
One second, I could have sworn I was still getting hard, and the next . . . shit.
I’m a grown-ass man, and I just jizzed in my fucking pants.
A pained grunt comes from Crew above me, and I force myself to focus, not wanting to miss a second of this. Life quickly fades from his eyes, and as he collapses to the ground like a heavy sack of shit, I’m left paralyzed in Big Jim’s chair, the intensity of the kill still shooting through my veins.
All I can do is breathe, replaying the moment over and over in my head, and when I finally regain the ability to move and think clearly, I feel more energized than ever before. I spring up from Big Jim’s chair, gazing down at Crew’s lifeless body, absolutely stunned.
I’ve always been a lady killer. Plain and simple. That’s what’s gotten me off, but the rush of killing Crew Ledger in the name of protecting Kyah . . . fuck. I’ve never felt so liberated or alive. And what’s more, that need to end Kyah’s life has diminished just a little bit more.
I can’t explain it. This girl is fucking with my head. But for the first time, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to finish this. Despite knowing how good it’s going to feel, I don’t know if I can handle the idea of never seeing her again, never being able to breathe her in or taste her sweetness.
Fuck. What is Kyah doing to me?
All I know is that right now, everything is shifting. There’s a slight hope building in my chest, slowly growing and telling me that if I were to sate my need to kill by taking out the assholes who mean Kyah harm, then perhaps I could keep her forever. Maybe I won’t need to end her life.
Then with that murderous need within me finally satisfied, I think about my next steps. There’s blood all over me, coated from my forehead down the front of my clothes, and walking out the front door like this without drawing attention is never going to happen.
I need to play it smart.
Then with the afternoon sun still streaming through the front window of High Voltage Ink, I go about my business, trashing the shop. Pushing everything on the counter onto the floor. Upending chairs and smashing the vials of ink.
With any luck, it’s going to look like a robbery gone bad.
My hood shields me from the cameras as I work, and I cringe knowing I got way too carried away before I sank that tattoo gun into the side of Crew’s throat. There’s a possibility my face was captured on the security cameras, and I’m going to have to check that out, but first, I need to scrub this place clean of fingerprints.
I’ve had my sleeves down over my hands the whole time, but I’m not risking it. No chance in hell.
Grabbing a few alcohol wipes, I get busy wiping over the handle of the tattoo gun and anywhere I’ve touched. Then despite knowing that one look in the camera feed will show that this was anything but a random robbery gone wrong, it’s enough to throw the cops off course and leave them scratching their heads. At least for a little while. Besides, the feds know damn well who Crew Ledger is and exactly which honey pots he’s got his fingers in. It won’t take them long to make assumptions and connect this back to his brother.
As for me, I’ll be as free as a bird to continue watching over Kyah.
And with that, I push out the back door of High Voltage Ink, keeping my head down as a wicked grin stretches across my face.
God, that felt too fucking good, and even if I got caught, that rush was more than worth it, even now being able to feel my cum spreading through my pants. I give it five shiny fucking stars. Definitely recommend.
15
KYAH
Isuckinasharp hiss of pain as my fingers poke my bruised jaw, doing what I can to try and cover up Crew’s handiwork with concealer.
I’ve been up all night just staring at my ceiling, trying to convince myself not to quit my job just so I can avoid having to see him ever again. I still can’t believe it. I don’t know whether to focus on the shock or the betrayal, but most of all, I’m trying not to think about the way he’s going to grovel the second I walk into the shop.
No matter how I look at this, it’s going to suck. Hell, I still can’t believe it happened. Crew was supposed to be the one person who’d never hurt me, and now . . . I have no idea what he’s supposed to be to me. Dead sounds right though.
Today is going to be hell. He’s kidding himself if he thinks I’m going to just roll over and forget it ever happened. I’m not usually very chatty about my personal life, but soon enough, Big Jim is going to figure out something happened between us. If he can’t get answers out of Crew by force, he's bound to see for himself when he goes over the security feed, and when that happens, all hell is going to break loose for Crew. He’s going to want to run fast. Hell, and that’s just Big Jim. I can only imagine what will happen once Viper finds out, and he will. Viper makes it his business to know this kind of shit, that’s how he’s kept his position for so long. He’s dangerous like that.
Staring at my face in my bathroom mirror, I decide it’s good enough to face the day. I’m not one to go cheap when it comes to makeup, so it should last me until I’m standing in this same spot twelve hours from now. At least, I hope. I don’t think I can handle Big Jim finding out just yet. He’ll give me that disapproving father look and demand answers, and I’m almost certain the moment he does, I’ll burst into tears.
After grabbing my phone, keys, and wallet, I spy the monster dildo hanging above my front door like a fucking mistletoe and can’t wipe the grin off my face as I grab the door handle and yank it open. I come to an abrupt stop, finding Alex hovering in his open doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of workout shorts with that deliciously toned torso on display. I swear, this guy must spend every spare minute of his life working out.
“Morning,” he purrs, that thick, rich tone filling the narrow hallway as I bite my lip and turn my back, pulling my door closed behind me.
