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Fuck. Stel couldn’t be in here when I was in the shower. How in the hell was I supposed to control myself when all I wanted to do was tug her into the shower with me and tear off every stitch of clothing she had on.
A groan broke free before I could help it. I thought for sure it would send her running out the door. But no, not her. There wasn’t a meek bone in Stel’s body, and she’d set her sights on me. Resisting her was making me fucking crazy, not to mention hard all the damn time.
Maybe if she thought I was jacking off, she’d leave me to it. Hell, I was already hard knowing she was in the bathroom with me, and in my experience, a Stel induced hard-on didn’t just disappear with thoughts of little old ladies and fuzzy bunnies.
I gripped the base of my dick, wishing it was her petite hand wrapped around me, and slid my hand along my length to the tip.
“Fuck.”
Her beautiful honey-colored eyes widened as she sucked in a breath, her chest expanding. God those tits. What I wouldn’t give to see them without the black tank top. To bury my face in them and inhale a whiff of vanilla mixed with the paint from the car she’d been working on earlier.
My hand lost its rhythm for a second as I pictured using my teeth to tease her nipples into tight peaks before I sucked the hard buds into my mouth. Another strangled groan left my lips as she shifted to the side and slid her hand into the front of the baggy jeans she wore.
This girl was going to be the death of me. Literally. Mad Dog was going to gut me for wanting to defile his baby girl. But I couldn’t help it. When I closed my eyes at night, I saw her on her hands and knees before me, her round ass begging for my handprint, and her pussy dripping for my cock.
She let out a breathy little moan that was almost my undoing, but I wanted to watch her come. I needed for her to come while we breathed the same air, to know she thought of me while she did it, because that was as close as I would ever get to fucking her. To having her the way I wanted.
The waistband of her jeans slid down with the motion of her hand, revealing the thin red strap clinging to her hipbone. Fuck me. She was wearing a red thong. My favorite. The fact she didn’t even know it was my favorite made it all the sweeter.
Her long, silky wave of blond hair brushed her arm as she tilted her head back. Her pale pink lips parted on a gasp as she came. I thought her rage was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I was wrong. Stella in the throes of an orgasmwas like Beethoven’s symphony or Michelangelo’s art, sheer unadulterated perfection.
Then I let go, painting the gray checkered shower curtain a milky white. Only I didn’t shout her name the way I’d wanted to. No, I had a dream to kill. She could never know about my obsession. I needed to be a dick in order to keep her at arm’s length. So, I shouted a name we both hated, but for different reasons. Mona.
Looking at her face as she froze, her hand still in the front of her jeans, killed me. But I made myself do it. Made myself take her pain as well as my own.
She didn’t scream or charge the curtain. It would have been better if she had. Maybe if she’d punched me a few times for good measure, I’d be able to breathe.
No. Instead, she removed her hand from her jeans and looked down at it in disgust. That was a stab in the heart, not that I didn’t deserve it. Then she slowly backed away without making a sound. Another piece of my heart shattered, but it didn’t matter. It had only ever beat for her, anyway.
My eyelids fluttered open, a soft buzzing sound coming from beside my head. Fuck. How long had I been out for?
I looked over at the illuminated screen on my burner phone and saw I had a message. Sitting up, I ran a hand over my face and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. This was the first time in a long time that I’d woken up halfway sober.
For Stel, I was going to have to go cold turkey. She needed the old me, and not some broken down train wreck.
My phone beeped again, and I lit my cigarette, a slight tremor in my hand as I reached for it.
Hunter: Time to collect the package.
CHAPTER 10
STELLA
It had been a few days since my captor made good on his promise and left me alone with Jules’s dead body. Somehow, the horror of my situation seemed less daunting if I pretended that he was a rambunctious spirit like inBeetlejuice. Not sure what it said about my mental state that I spoke to a corpse, but that was a problem for future Stella. This Stella only cared about holding in her screams.
“Are you okay over there,” a girl whispered.
Her voice had a creepy echo to it that reverberated off the walls to my right. This was the first time anyone had spoken to me since my captor left. At least, I assumed she was talking to me since Jules wasn’t long on conversation these days.
“I’m just peachy, but Jules could stand a breath mint,” I snarked back from my spot atop the mattress from hell. Guess I wasn’t much for chit chat these days either.
“Jolene,” another girl hissed from farther away. “What are you doing? Shut up. She already got her boyfriend killed. Do you really want to be next?”
“Calm your tits,” I muttered, trying to shift into a more comfortable position while still keeping my parts covered with my hands. “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“What was he doing in there with you then if he wasn’t your boyfriend?”
For a second, I debated about how much I should reveal in case anyone was listening. Then I remembered it didn’t really matter what I said. They already knew Antonio was my boyfriend, Jules was dead, and unless I got to talk to these assholes again, none of us were getting out of here.
