AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He pulls my head back a little farther, eyes locked on my lips. “Good.”
My head is nearly level with his hips.
I open my mouth, wide.
His grip tightens on my hair. “That’s two, Butterfly.”
Heat shoots down my spine. And I slide my tongue out. Inviting him to do something about it.
Hans reaches up with his free hand and traces the tip of my tongue with his finger. “We don’t have time for three.”
He rubs that same fingertip against his lips, then lets go of my hair and backs away.
For the first time ever, I kind of hate him.
Shifting in my seat, I can accept that sucking his dick, right here and right now, might not be the best idea. But goddamn, tell that to my lady bits.
I’m wondering what my punishment would be if I slid my hand down my shorts and took care of myself real quick when movement catches my attention.
I lean closer to the screen. “Uh, Hans.”
“Just two more minutes.”
“No.” I point at one of the screens. “We’ve got company.”
A van pulls to a stop between our houses, parking just before my driveway. The design on the side looks like a logo for an internet company, but it’s not the one we use out here.
Hans stops behind me, one hand on the back of the chair, the other on the counter as he leans in.
The driver is visible through the windshield, and as we watch, four men exit the vehicle.
The van is the only attempt they seem to be making at a cover, because all four men have guns in their hands.
I expect the group to walk up to Hans’s house, but they break off into pairs, two heading this way and two toward my house. And in both cases, one man walks to the front door and the other circles around to the back of the house.
Hans doesn’t have a view of my backyard, but we watch the man circle Hans’s house. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he just looks around before ending up back at the front door, where his partner is already trying to break in.
I can feel my pulse picking up while excitement and stress swirl in my stomach.
Hans does that thing that has the keyboard appearing, then he taps a few buttons.
A speaker buzzes to life, and unfamiliar male voices float into the room.
“… told you the scout is dead.”
“All he needed to do was to get eyes on the fucker. How do you mess that up?”
My hand balls into a fist. How dare he call Hans a fucker.
“Because clearly”—the first man shakes his head—“Hans saw him first.”
The second man shrugs. “Okay, so Hans killed him. He’s gotta be long gone by now.”
The first man grunts and shoves his shoulder into the door. “The fuck is this thing made of?” he grumbles, then goes back to the lock.
“I’m just saying, Hans, the fucking ghost-man killer dude, isn’t going to be sitting inside waiting for an ambush.” Second Man shakes his head.
I glance up at Hans and silently admit the man is right. Hans is standing.
