Devil's Bargain

by Natasha Knight

  She gives me a strange look and I wonder if she’s trying for a grin but then I feel her hands at my stomach, pulling my shirt out, fumbling with the belt of my pants.

  “What are you doing, Melissa?”

  “Making sure you get what you paid for.” She slurs the words.

  “Is it that bad?” I ask. “This secret?”

  Her hands stop their work and she looks deep into my eyes, searching them, then resumes, shifting her gaze downward as she succeeds in undoing the belt, the pants.

  “You really want the waiter who’s about two floors away to see you on your knees sucking my dick when he gets here?”

  Her eyes fly up to mine.

  “Didn’t think so,” I say, redoing the fly of my pants, my belt.

  On cue, the elevator doors slide open and a waiter pushes a tray inside.

  “Sir,” he says, pretending not to see a drunk Melissa stumble her way to the couch.

  “Thank you,” I tell him and hand him a fifty-dollar-bill. “Don’t worry about cleaning it up tonight.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he says and a moment later, he’s gone.

  I go to the coffee machine and make her a mug of black coffee. When it’s ready, I hand it to her.

  She takes it and I watch her drink a sip. When I set the plated club sandwich with fries on the coffee table in front of her, she picks at the fries.

  I stand, arms folded across my chest, and watch her until she finishes the coffee and eats half the fries and a quarter of the sandwich.

  “Happy?” she asks.

  “Not yet.”

  She sighs, eats a few more fries.

  I open the bottle of water and hand it to her.

  She takes it, drains it.

  I sit beside her. “Now talk.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Did you know that man?”

  She shakes her head, gives a sad little smile. “No.”

  She’s not lying. I can tell.

  I think about this and something tells me to ask that question a little differently. “Does he know you?”

  “He thought he did, but he was mistaken.” Now she’s lying. When she lies, she’s too smooth and quick to answer.

  “You were scared, Melissa. I saw it.”

  “Not of him,” she says and stands up. She’s barefoot. That’s good. I think she’d topple if she weren’t.

  She reaches behind her, unzips the dress, pushes the straps off her arms and wriggles out of it, letting it drop to the floor. My gaze falls to her full, naked breasts. She’s not wearing a bra.

  Hooking her thumbs into the band of her panties, she leans forward to push them off and steps out of them. She straightens and I look her over because she’s fucking beautiful, even if she is doing anything and everything to distract me.

  I shove the coffee table away with my foot and, without a word, I point to the spot in front of me.

  She swallows, gets that flush she gets when she’s aroused and nervous at once, then kneels.

  “Open your legs wider.”

  She does and she’s kneeling up and I’m hard just looking at her like this, at her pretty, naked body, at the slit of her sex.

  I undo my belt, open my pants. I take myself out.

  “You want to distract me?” I ask her, touching the already wet tip of my cock to her lips. “You can distract me, but I never forget, Melissa. Never.”

  I grip her by the hair, force her face backward to kiss her mouth before laying her back on the carpet. I kneel over her, my thighs on either side of her.

  “You sobering up?” I ask when she realizes she’s not going to be sucking my cock so much as getting her face fucked.

  “What—”

  “You don’t want to talk? That’s fine. I’ll fuck that pretty face of yours.”

  She makes a sound, pushes back, but her arms are trapped.

  “You can tell me. I’m not your enemy. I won’t hurt you. Don’t you know that?” I ask, sliding my hand back and rubbing her clit, eyes on her as she licks her lips. “Good. Like that. Just relax,” I say, rubbing the swelling nub.

  She opens her mouth and I push into her, slow at first, letting her tongue lick me, lubricate me while I rub her clit, finger her pussy. I draw my hand away and kneel up.

  “I’ll take care of you after,” I say, gripping the end of the coffee table with one hand, angling myself to fuck her face. Finding my rhythm, slow at first, shallow, then deeper and deeper.

  I watch her take me. Watch her choke and gasp for breath, feeling her hands on my thighs, nails digging into skin, and I’m getting harder and thicker and when I feel the back of her throat, I cup her head and tilt it and fuck her hard, just a few thrusts inside her hot, wet little mouth. When I come, I hold her to me, buried deep, and I come down her tight little throat, my cock throbbing, pulsing with its release. Her muscles work to keep up, to swallow, urging the orgasm on, intensifying it until I’ve emptied.

  When I’m finished, I release her.

  She rolls onto her side, coughing.

  I grip her hair again, make her look at me. “Swallow it. All of it,” I tell her. “When you do, I’ll make you come.”

  Once she’s swallowed, I kiss her hard, tasting myself on her tongue, tasting her and stealing her breath.

  Then I turn her onto her stomach and move between her legs. I spread her ass wide and I eat her, all of her, her dripping cunt, her tight little asshole, rolling her onto her back again to take her swollen little clit into my mouth. I suck so hard, she’s coming in no time, her gasps almost screams, her hands in my hair, those nails digging into my scalp as she calls out my name, her pussy wet, dripping, her taste the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.

  17

  Melissa

  Hawk will not let this go. And he’s going to find out. One way or another, he will find out.

  The man at that party, all those people watching us. They will be curious. They will ask around. Hell, all they need to do is ask that man.

  How many people saw those videos? How many others will recognize me?

  And what will I do when Hawk finds out? How will I stand the way he’ll look at me?

  I shake my head. I have to think about my options now because Sean Boyd isn’t the only threat.

  When we reach the shop, the driver pulls up along the curb and I get out. He climbs out too, but he doesn’t follow me inside. Every time he’s brought me, he just waits outside for me.

  I guess Hawk’s still not sure if I’ll run or not and right now, I can’t say that I won’t.

  There’s one thing I do need to do today, either way. I need to be prepared in case I need to leave in a hurry, and I need two things before I can do that.

  Deirdre is ringing someone up when I get inside. Her glance is worried when she sees me and she quickly makes change. A few moments later, the customer is gone and we’re alone.

  “How are you doing, Deirdre? The pink-eye all cleared up?”

  “Yep. But I’m sure that little germ magnet will bring something else home next week,” she says, and even now, I can hear how much she loves her granddaughter. It’s heartwarming, the way she talks about her.

  “Listen hun, something strange happened when I got here to open up shop.”

  I feel myself grow cold. “What?”

  “Some man was waiting outside. Said he’s an old friend of yours and asked when you’d be here. Seemed a little odd since you hadn’t mentioned any friends being in town so I told him I wasn’t sure when you were coming in.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Didn’t say. He had dark hair, tall…”

  She trails off and I stop listening. Because it can only be one man.

  “Did he say what he wanted?” I interrupt.

  “Just that he was dropping by to say hello. Left before I’d even unlocked the door. It just felt strange that you hadn’t mentioned anyone.”

  I nod, start to walk away, stop. “He didn’t say who he was?”

>   She shakes her head.

  I need to think. I need to figure out what to do.

  “Are you taking care of yourself, hun?”

  I nod.

  “Sure is a nice car you came in.” She gestures outside.

  “My car is messed up. Turns out duct tape doesn’t hold it together after all,” I say anxiously. “I need to run an errand, Deirdre.”

  “You sure you’re okay, Melissa?”

  I nod too quickly.

  She studies me. “You’re not in some sort of trouble?”

  I shake my head.

  “You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

  I nod again. I need to get out of here. I’m on the verge of tears.

  “Go on and take care of your errand. I’ll be here.”

  “Thank you, Deirdre.”

  “You’re welcome, dear.”

  Glancing once at Brian outside who is scrolling through something on his phone, I walk through to the back of the shop and out into the alley behind. Two of the workers from the sandwich shop with whom we share the alley are outside smoking. When they see me, the one leans in to whisper to the other.

  I recognize the one doing the whispering. She was there the day of the credit card debacle but I don’t care about that right now. I just look away and hurry through the alley and out to the other street where I see the bus coming. I just make it—charging across the street to cars honking their horns.

  The driver gives me a shake of her head as I get on and take a seat.

  In fifteen minutes, we’re at my stop. It’s another five on foot from here and soon, I’m turning the corner to my street.

  Throughout the bus ride, I think I should just have asked Brian to bring me here. He would have and if Hawk questioned it, I’d tell him I needed a pair of shoes or a book or something. But it’s too late for that now and if I’m quick, he won’t find out anyway.

  Besides, lying to Hawk is hard. I feel like he knows every time I do it and for some reason, I don’t like lying to him.

  I give a shake of my head. What I’m doing, it’s not any of his business. It’s not as if it’s a part of our agreement. And he doesn’t need to know about my private life. My past. He wouldn’t want to.

  I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice the stranger on my porch until I turn onto the walkway and stop short. But then I remember what Hawk said about fixing the lock when I see his van and realize he’s a locksmith. He’s working on the door. Hawk said he’d have that done, I don’t know if I didn’t expect him to or what, but he’s actually having it done.

  I walk up the drive to the front door. “Hello,” I say to the man, sounding much calmer than I feel, holding up my keys so he knows it’s my house. “You must be the man Hawk sent.”

  He nods, stands and wipes his hands on his pants. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “You are?”

  “Melissa Chase.” The house is under Chase, not my real name. “I live here.”

  He nods, shakes hands with me. “Hawk didn’t mention you’d be here.”

  “Oh, I just forgot something. Will my old key work?”

  “No, those locks were no good. I’ll take the new keys to Hawk as soon as I’m finished here. Just a few more minutes.”

  “Oh, I’ll take the keys. It’s my house. Can you let me in while you wrap up?”

  “Ms. Chase you said?” He digs out his phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I work for Hawk, ma’am.”

  “It’s my house.”

  He starts to dial a number.

  “Wait, are you calling him?”

  He puts the phone to his ear, and I can hear it ringing.

  “Wait. Stop.” But a moment later, I hear Hawk’s voice as he answers.

  “Hawk, I’m almost done here but Ms. Chase is here wanting her key and…”

  He trails off and I know why from the way he looks at me.

  “Yes, sir. All right.”

  “I need to get inside,” I try, the man still nodding at whatever Hawk is saying. I have to get the things I need because what if I can’t come back here again?

  He finally hangs up the phone and unlocks the door. “Ma’am.” He gestures for me to go in. “Hawk is on his way to pick you up. He says you’re to wait here.”

  I swallow. “Hawk’s coming?” Crap.

  He nods, doesn’t quite meet my gaze.

  “Okay,” I say, walking inside because there’s nothing else I can do. I was hoping to slip back into the shop unnoticed, no one the wiser.

  The door closes behind me and I hear the new lock turn and when I try it, I can’t open the door. I’m locked in my own house.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man says. He must hear me struggling with it. “Hawk will be here in a few minutes.”

  “This is…you can’t lock me in my own house!”

  He doesn’t answer though and from the window, I watch him pack up his things. From that same window, not five minutes later, I watch a black SUV, so out of place here, turn onto the street. Hawk climbs out of it.

  A sedan pulls up behind it and Axel gets out, leaning against the driver’s side door. He lights up a cigarette.

  The locksmith walks up to Hawk, hands him the keys—my keys.

  When Hawk looks up at the window and meets my gaze, I drop the curtain and step away, my heart racing because I can see from here that he’s pissed.

  I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. Inside the closet, I shove the empty shoe boxes aside and find the one I’m looking for.

  From inside it, I take out an old pair of sneakers and underneath the tissue paper, find the thumb drive and my passport. I shove both into my purse just as the front door opens and I know the instant Hawk’s inside because the air shifts, almost like it gets thinner, and it’s hard to breathe.

  He doesn’t say a word as he climbs the steps. I shove the boxes back haphazardly and stand, shoving the closet door closed just as he fills the bedroom doorway, all huge and annoyed looking.

  I find myself stepping backward before he even takes a single step inside because I remember well our conversation from the first night. I have a feeling I’m about to find out what the consequences are for breaking one of his rules.

  18

  Hawk

  “You’re wearing out my patience.”

  I step into the bedroom, note how the closet door is open, two shoe boxes having fallen over stopping it from shutting.

  She matches each of my steps in the opposite direction, keeping distance between us. She’s flushed and out of breath and looks guilty as sin.

  “Brian just lost his job.”

  “I snuck out the back. It wasn’t his fault.”

  I walk toward the closet and she backs away to the foot of the bed. I open the door, look down at the toppled boxes.

  “Actions have consequences. As does incompetence.” I shove at a box. “What were you doing?”

  “I needed something,” she starts, her voice different, forced.

  I turn to look at her. “What did you need?” She looks guilty as sin.

  Her eyes search mine momentarily before she shifts her gaze to a point beyond my shoulder.

  “A book.”

  “You keep your books in the closet?”

  She wrings her hands.

  I step to her.

  She backs up again. “While I was here, I thought I’d get my yoga clothes.”

  “Did I give you the impression I’m a complete idiot?”

  Her back is to the wall by the time I reach her. She stares up at me, wide-eyed but mute.

  “I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth because I know when you’re lying and you’re lying now, Melissa. I’ll tell you what. I’ll even go first and lay my cards on the table.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I know something bad happened to you at the Boyd house. I mean I know it was Sean Boyd and maybe his father too, although that part I’m not sure about. I know you went to see
Liza at the clinic before you agreed to my proposition and I think it’s all related. I think the man from the party last night, I think he’s somehow related, but I can’t put my finger on how. Not yet anyway.”

  I watch her pale as I talk, watch the color drain slowly and completely from her face.

  “So, I need you to tell me. I need you to tell me if I’m hot or cold and just what the hell is going on.”

  “Just sex,” she says, eyes desperate for me to accept that. “We said—”

  “I change my mind.”

  “You can’t—”

  “And I’ll be honest because one of us should be, it’s not wholly because whatever you’ve got going on is interfering with my time. I’ll help you, Melissa. I have the means to. But you have to trust me.”

  Her eyes fill up with tears turning the pretty golden-brown into the palest, softest sand of a pristine beach.

  She shifts her gaze downward. I think she’s considering her options, but when she looks up at me again, she’s closed off.

  “Please leave it alone.”

  “You’re in trouble.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not.”

  I feel my anger growing. My anger at her stubbornness. At her unwillingness to trust me, even if on some level, I understand her hesitation.

  “I will help you,” I hear myself say and wonder why it’s so important to me. Wonder why I give a fuck.

  But I do.

  Another shake of her head is her only response, though, and I make myself count to ten before I speak.

  “All right. This is how you want to play it?”

  She just stands there watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do, I guess.

  “You broke a rule, Melissa. I told you, there will be consequences.”

  “What consequences?”

  I reach for my belt, undo it.

  She licks her lips.

  “Not that kind of consequences, sweetheart,” I say, and watch her eyes widen as I tug it from the loops and double it over in my hand, keeping the buckle in my palm.

  With a flick of my wrist, I slap it against my thigh, feeling the sting of it.

  The sound makes her jump.