by Emilia Finn
“Mmm.” Peeling my hair back and bending my neck, he slides his warm tongue along my skin, down to my shoulder, and with my hair fisted in his hand, he works around to the hollow of my throat.
My brain is fried. My circuits, dead.
My vagina needs to be touched.
I don’t know this man. I know only what’s in my reports – my reports on a criminal. I have stitches in my side, stitches he put there, and I’m basically naked.
Fuck my life.
“Swear to God, let’s just fuck, Blondie. I won’t hurt your stitches, I promise.” I groan when he gently tugs my skin between his teeth. He slides a broad hand around and cups my breast. Heavy. Full. Sensitive. “You want it. I want it.” Daringly, he slides his hand over my hip, over my thigh, and taps my clit before my brain catches up.
“Ah!”
With skilled fingers, he slides them under the fabric and along my wet slit.
“Fuck.” He bites my earlobe. “You want me so fuckin’ much.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He slides two fingers in without waiting for me to object. “Yes. You want me almost as much as I want you. Fuck, Jess. I could come already.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He slides his tongue along my neck. Pumping two thick fingers inside me, he forces me to stretch and try not to jump out of my skin when his pinky finger slides down to my ass.
Dear lord.
Thank you.
I’m done.
“You’ll scream in three minutes flat.” He pulls my face around until our lips feather close. Sliding his tongue over my bottom lip, I scrunch my eyes shut as his taste invades my senses. His scent. His overwhelming presence. “Then we can both go back to work. Maybe catch a nap around mid-morning.”
“Nap.” My throat is dry. I can’t breathe. “Work.”
Work!
Snapping my eyes open, I look down to the tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach. The large hand that stretches my panties and plays me like a guitar. “No!” Jolting forward, I tear his hand away and slam against the wall. “Oh my God. No! Don’t touch me!”
Frowning, then smirking, he holds two fingers up like a gun, points them to the sky, and slides his tongue to the tip. “Come back and let me finish. You know you wanna.”
“No! I don’t. Jesus, Kane. I don’t know you. You’re a fucking criminal. The chief is trying to get you assholes out of this town. It’s my job to watch you, to build a case against you, not to fuck you. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“The matter with me?” He looks down his muscled body. To his still standing dick. To the wet patch soaking through the silk. “I still haven’t come. That’s what’s the matter with me. You try to fuck me in my sleep, and you parade around in cute little panties. You let me taste you. Touch you. Then you leave me hanging.”
“I didn’t let you touch me! You did it without my permission.”
“And you licked my chest and fucked my leg without my permission. I thought that’s what we’re doing. Figured you were into the non-consensual shit.”
“You’re an asshole!”
He shrugs and glances toward my handbag. “Speaking of… I’d like to fuck your asshole, too. We can try that first, if it’s your thing. I get the feeling it is. Can’t say your asshole doesn’t appeal to me. Though I don’t believe you that you’ve given it to someone else. It was tighter than my little finger.”
“Oh my God!”
“You can call me God while I fuck your asshole. I don’t mind.”
“Stop!” Mortified, thrumming with need, angry at myself for stopping him before I came, I slide along the wall and skirt the edge of his bed. He watches me the way a lion might watch his prey as I search the room. “Where are my clothes? I didn’t tell you to undress me!”
Leaning over the edge of the bed, he picks up my two-hundred-dollar skirt and tosses the wrinkled fabric at my chest. “Believe it or not, I was actually trying to help you. You seem to think you’re the victim here, but I saved you from smashing your head on the concrete last night. I brought you home. Asked permission to help you. I could’ve just put you in a cab and told him to take you to the hospital. Let your family find you all sliced up. But no, I stitched you up. Slept on the edge of my bed and didn’t touch you. You were the one who grew six-hundred hands and started groping. You were the one who licked first. You were the one who didn’t say no when I finally touched.”
Shaken more than I should be, I step into my skirt and hide my grimace at my tender ankle. “I did say no.”
He scoffs. “No, Kane.” He puts on a breathy, feminine voice and mocks me. “No, Kane. Ooooh, Kane. Touch me, but let me play hard to get.” He shakes his head. “That ain’t no. That’s let me pretend to be innocent, but fuck me like you fuck all your whores. I always wanted to be fucked like that, but I’m too shy to ask, and my corporate boyfriend’s cock never seems to stand for more than two seconds.”
“You’re a pig!” I step into my heels and snatch up my blood-soaked shirt. My hands shake with remembrance, with the fear I felt when Lance was on me; with the panic that skittered through my blood when his knife glanced off my neck. “The men I fuck know how to do it. And they know how to get permission, first. There’s a reason they have jobs and can walk into a police station without fear of being arrested.”
“If you say so,” he scoffs. “You don’t know what fucking is until I sink my cock into you. You’ll realize you’re still a virgin, Blondie. Their peanuts don’t count. Then when you go back to your ‘permission seeking desk wanker’, you’ll try to get a little wild. You’ll try to fuck on a desk, because that’s as wild as shit gets for little girls like you. But you’ll think of me.” Standing like a grizzly bear in the wild, he unfolds his body and forces me to look up and swallow at the power in his stance. “You’ll think of me, and you’ll wish your prudish pride didn’t stop me five minutes ago.” Stopping in front of me and sliding his fingers into his mouth, he pulls them out with a pop, then slams his lips against mine until I taste myself on his tongue. He pulls back and adds, “You can say no, you can deny and pretend you don’t want me, but now we both have your pussy on our tongues. Your words lie, but your body can’t.” Stepping to a small set of drawers, he slides the top one open and reveals meticulously folded shirts. Taking the top from the pile on the left, he tosses the fabric at my face. “Your blouse is trashed. Wear this. Next time you’re on a date with a homo in a suit, ask him to wear this when he’s fucking you.”
I swear, steam must be billowing from my ears as I tug the cottony soft fabric over my head. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re going home to finger yourself.” He waits until our eyes meet. “It’s okay. I’m gonna whack off as soon as you leave, too. You’ve had me hard since I found the ass toy in your bag last night.”
“The ass–” Gaping mouth, heart thrumming, my gaze flips between the man who has me angry and turned on, and my bag. “What?”
“Don’t worry. I texted your boss. About work, not the toy. You’re all set to take today off. Go home, fuck yourself. I put my number in your phone…” He flashes an animalistic grin. “Send me pics. I’ll pay for pictures of your fingers in your pussy.” He steps closer. Stopping barely half a foot in front of me, he brazenly leans in and distracts me with his tongue on my neck, and when my last remaining scraps of dignity escape me on a moan, his fingers walk along my side and pinch my erect nipple. “I will pay you to let me tongue fuck your pussy. Lay down, take your skirt off. I’ll make you happy, then I’ll take you home.”
“I’m not a whore! Jesus. I won’t be paid, and I won’t fuck you just because you crook your finger and tell me to.”
“I’ll crook my finger inside your asshole. Would you like that?”
Yes.
“No!”
“Oh, Kane.” Breathy whispers, he moans in my ear. “Oh, Kane. Fuck me like you mean it. I was raised to be a lady, but I wanna be fucked like a whore.” He takes my shaking hand, fo
rces it down between us, and wraps it around his silk covered dick. He tugs me forward until our hips clash and my arm is squished between our bodies. “All this talking, Jess. I could’ve been balls deep by now.”
“No. Fuck!” I jump back and slam my toe against the foot of the bed. “Jesus. Stop.” Spinning away from him, I snatch up my handbag and dig inside for my car keys. Stopping, almost spewing on sight, I pull out a butt plug between my thumb and finger. “This isn’t mine! Why would you put that in there?”
Laughing when I toss it away like it has cooties, he follows its trajectory, then brings his eyes back to mine. “I didn’t put it there. But I found it. Turned me the fuck on, Jessica Ann.”
“Stop!” On the verge of tears, I throw one last glance around the room to find anything else that might be mine.
Soon, not so far in the future, there will be searches done on this apartment. Police forensics will be in here snooping into every tiny nook and cranny – I’d rather my business cards weren’t lying around when they do that.
“I’m going. Don’t come back to my workplace again, unless it’s with a full statement of guilt.”
“Guilt…?” Transforming into the innocent man we both know he isn’t, he tilts his head to the side. “What am I guilty of?”
“Organized crime! You’re Abel Hayes’ enforcer.” When his eyes flash, I wonder if I’ve said too much. If he might just kill me now. “You hurt people. You trade drugs. Guns. God knows what else. Anything not allowed in this country, you help bring in. You’re a bad person!” Storming toward the door – though my storm is more of a buck-eyed limp and a gentle breeze – I noisily kick pots and pans to the side and swing the door wide.
I screech and rebel away from the hairy man standing on the other side with a yellow smile.
Instantly, Kane’s protective arm wraps around my stomach and swings me around. With a roaring curse, he sets me back on my feet and rushes toward our visitor. “Get the fuck away from my door, Murphey!” Moving through the doorway like a freight train, he pins the older man against the wall and lifts him to the tips of his toes. “You come to my door again, I’ll end your fuckin’ life. You snoop around my place, you try to get in; I’ll. End. You.”
When Murphey’s eyes remain focused on me, Kane’s hold tightens. “You go near her, you follow her away from here, you so much as speak to her in the street, death won’t be what you should fear most.” Lowering him to the balls of his feet, Kane’s naked back and shoulder muscles dangerously bunch as he tosses the man ten feet down the hall.
He lands with a heavy thud and painfully scissored legs. Scrambling to his feet nimbler than I would have given him credit for, without a word, he bolts to the end of the hall and skitters down the staircase.
“Jesus… Kane.” Shaking, cold, chattering teeth, and the onset of a brand-new bout of shock, I step forward on jelly legs and try to process the shit-tastic series of events that continue to play out in front of me. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” I point down the hall to the space the homeless man escaped. “He scared me, but he wasn’t breaking any laws.”
“He has no reason to be at my door, Blondie. None.” Spinning around, he turns back into that bear from earlier and doesn’t stop until his toes touch mine. Even with me in heels and him with bare feet, I still have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “I don’t want to buy cookies, and I sure as fuck don’t want to sell you. Therefore, he has no reason to be here. If you see him in the street, ever, you call me. I’m not joking.”
“But…” My thumping heart, the furious slog of blood through my veins, leaves me dizzy. “You… I…” will not pass out. I will not spew. I will not let down my guard. “You’re the person I should be afraid of! Not an old man with a lack of dental hygiene.”
“No.” Reaching out and tucking my bed-messy hair behind my ear, he ducks low to meet my eyes. “I’m not a good man, Blondie. I hurt people. I do illegal things. But I won’t hurt you.” Letting his hand drop, he reaches out to take mine. “Are you gonna pass out again?”
“No.” I’m too stubborn to do that shit again.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Um…” I can’t even count the hours. “Dinner… night before last. Before I met you.”
“Fuck me. “ He shakes his head with disgust. “It’s like you’re intent on hurting yourself. Come inside away from the rodents. Let me get dressed. I’ll take you through the drive-thru, then back to get your car.”
“Oh my God! My car! Jules will see my car at the office.”
“Relax. I texted and told her you were sick and calling out.”
“Right.” I glare like he’s missing half a dozen brain cells. “But why’s my car there? It should be at home, not at the office.”
“Well–”
“I could say I was too unwell to drive…”
He nods dismissively. “Okay.”
“No. No one would believe that.” I work reasonable excuses through my sluggish brain. “I could say I was having engine trouble.”
“Alright.”
“No, because then they’d ask why I didn’t call Ang.”
“Who’s Ang?”
“Oh! I know. I’ll say I slept at Scotch’s apartment. It’s empty, and just one block from the office. I’ll say I walked and slept at his place.”
“Who’s Scotch?”
“It’s cool. All fixed; they’ll believe the Scotch one.” Stepping back into his apartment, I ignore the scowl shadowing his dark eyes, and when he closes the door and brushes past me, I expect him to pull jeans on. I expect haste and a little modesty.
What I get are his boxer shorts dropping to the floor near my feet and the Grim Reaper staring from the ink on his back and his rippling muscles as he moves.
Muscles and ink as far as the eye can see.
It’s all.
I.
Can.
See.
The Grim Reaper stares, promising retribution for a crime I’m not sure I committed. Wringing my hands together and pretending I’m not losing my shit and completely fucking terrified, I watch his sly glance over his shoulder, the smug grin twitching his lips. He stops six feet away and turns side on until I focus on his erection.
And his strong hand wrapped around it.
“Oh…” Good lord, just put me out of my misery.
When my eyes refuse to move away from his hand, when my lips pop open and my tongue darts out to moisten them, when he makes his point – that I’m a prude with regrets – he stops at that same set of drawers from ten minutes ago, opens the third, and pulls out a fresh pair of jeans.
Penis bobbing, muscles rippling, he snags a fresh pair of boxers from the second and begins pulling them on. “Sorry, Blondie. You don’t mind, do you? I have to change boxers. Mine were a little… moist. I woke up to a pretty girl in heat.”
He’s trying to torment you. He’s looking for a reaction. Don’t give him a reaction!
Snapping the waistband of his boxers into place with a playful wink, he goes to work on the jeans, but his eyes don’t leave mine for a single second.
Bastard.
Bastard.
Bastard!
“Are you hungry?”
“No. I just want to go home.”
“I’ll drop you off up the street from the office. You can walk down to get your car and pretend you stayed wherever you stayed. I’ll follow you home to make sure your low blood pressure doesn’t kill you.”
“I don’t need you to follow me anywhere. I’m capable. I’m fine.”
Shrugging, he secures the button on his jeans and moves to the couch to collect his belt. Snapping it between his hands, pathetically, my body reacts in a way that shames me. “Fine. Your choice. Don’t come to this side of town again. This is twice we’ve met, and both times I’ve had to stop you from killing yourself.”
Enraged, I swing my arms like an idiot. “I didn’t come over here! You brought me. You basically kidnapped me!”
&nbs
p; “And now I’m releasing you. Don’t come back. Don’t go to Infernos again. My world isn’t like yours. You’re too soft to know the shit I know.”
“I’ll be back.” Like a promise, perhaps a warning, I pop my hands on my hips and pretend I’m not wearing his shirt. Crap! I’m wearing his shirt. Spinning, I find my suit coat on the floor between the bed and the wall. “I’ll be back, because I have a case to build.” I clumsily work my arms into the coat. “This is your warning, Bishop. My female boss and I will take Abel Hayes down. If you’re caught up in the mess… well, you’ve been warned not to play with those boys anymore. You’re sexy. Seriously, you are. Go dance for women for a living. You’d make a fortune, then you could move out of this crappy apartment and live on my side of town.”
Shrugging his shirt on, he stalks closer. “Don’t come back, Jess. I’m not always at Infernos. I might be out… working. There are a million Lances, and I won’t always be there to protect you.”
“Lance.” So much for anger. That name alone turns me back into a helpless idiot in an alleyway. “He… I…”
“He won’t be a problem for you anymore. He’s gone.”
“Gone?” I try not to read the tattoos peeking above the neckline of Kane’s shirt, but it’s too tempting. Too taboo. ‘What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die.’ “Gone where?”
“He’s dead.”
“He…” Blood roars in my head. Spots fill my vision until my legs turn weak and Kane jumps forward to catch me. I’m not an incompetent weakling. I’m not usually a damsel. But I just can’t keep up with this rollercoaster ride. “He’s dead? Like, actually deceased?”
He nods.
No words, because that would be an admission of guilt.
Just a nod.
“Was it… did he die of natural causes? Hit by a bus? Allergic to bees and got caught up in a killer swarm?”
Seriously, he stares into my eyes and shakes his head.
“Did Hayes do it?”
He shakes his head a second time.
“You? It was you?”
Lifting a brow, he releases my arms and forces me to stand on my own two feet. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Blondie. If it’ll hurt you, then I don’t wanna answer. If it’ll help you sleep better at night, then sure; I did it. He was going to kill you. He killed others this month. You were just one of a number. I rid the world of a monster; I’m not sorry.”