Torque

by Skye Callahan

  I pressed her clit between my fingers and her back arched. Every pant grew louder as she tightened around my cock, thrusting and taking me deeper. She threw back her head and her pussy convulsed around me. She jerked and spasmed dropping her forehead to my shoulder as her quivering stimulated my throbbing cock. I grabbed her hips, lifting her slightly and forcing her to ride me harder as she moaned with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

  The burning pulse radiated from the base of my back, engulfed my balls, and shot down my cock as she milked me of my cum. When I let her go, she collapsed forward, resting against my chest and shoulder. A heaving, exhausted mess.

  Chapter 10

  I couldn’t move. I wasn’t even certain I could see and I didn’t dare open my eyes to find out. The orgasm had come so hard the whole room went black and stars exploded behind my eyes.

  I hated him even more.

  The hatred burned through my veins on the wave of the orgasm. My racing pulse surging it through every part of my body.

  My insides felt like they’d been liquefied—that was optimistic.

  How dare he?!

  But what had he done really? Forced the most amazing nearly bone-shattering orgasm of my life on me. What the hell kind of offense was that?

  The worst?

  I didn’t want it.

  I didn’t want him.

  The sick, twisted, bastard who knew my body better than me. Women killed for orgasms like that, right? For flings with dangerous men who only want to drive them to ecstasy.

  And then I understood. I understood and all at the same time I was more confused. He didn’t want the women who killed for orgasms like that—the women who didn’t care whose hand that pleasure came from as long as they got their rocks off.

  He wanted me.

  He wanted me to love it and hate it all in the same breath.

  And most of all, he wanted to ensure that I hated him.

  Well, he’d done it.

  Torture. Pure, fucking torture.

  As I laid against his chest, he didn’t move or attempt to move me. The only movement I felt was from the intake and exhale of breath. The air against my neck.

  His cock was still inside of me.

  Yet, I didn’t want to move.

  I didn’t want to go back to reality. The reality of me and him. The job we had to do. The car we had to steal.

  Merc’s car. What the hell kind of special car did he have? It wasn’t about the car. It wasn’t about me. No. It was all about proving who could fuck with the other man rougher, dirtier. Who got the last laugh. The biggest blow. The worst revenge.

  Deeper and deeper I fell with a man who would no doubt wreck my mind as he wrecked my body. Colt played me.

  Worse than Devlin.

  Better than Devlin.

  Finally, he pushed me up, and I stood, rushing to cover myself as I turned away to right my clothing. This was the part I least wanted to face. Pulling down my skirt, I reached to retrieve my thong from the floor, but he snatched it away.

  “Was it really so bad?” he taunted.

  “You got what you wanted.” Why did he have to rub it in?

  “So did you.”

  I spun and faced him. “Why does Devlin want me to push you?”

  He scowled, stalking away with my underwear and slipping it in his pocket. “He wants me to start using again.”

  Using. That explained Tank’s appearance the night before. “The package?”

  “Didn’t open it, but I assume it’s enough heroin to keep me going for a while.”

  “Why?” The word slipped out, but I wasn’t sure I really had to ask. It was all about fucking each other over—of course.

  “Why do you think?” he asked, turning on his heel and pacing back toward me. “Why do I have to explain every move in this game? You know exactly why.”

  I did. But that didn’t mean I wanted to face it. Somehow, I really just wanted him to simplify it for me. To make it all make sense. “It’ll keep you out of his way. Make sure you’re no longer a threat. What would he do to me then?”

  He stared down at me, but didn’t answer.

  “When did you stop using?”

  Air rumbled through his throat, like a sound I imagined coming from a rabid animal. “My past means nothing to you.”

  As long as I was being pulled into his life, it meant everything. It meant a way to gauge his reactions. It meant a way to predict how things might turn out as I played their idiotic game. It gave me a better shot than chance and hope alone. “How are we going to make him think I’m doing what he wants?”

  He leaned into my face. “You’re doing a damn good job of it.”

  I was the first to back down and look away.

  “We have a car to steal,” he said, picking up the bags he’d carried in.

  I followed him out the back door but we didn’t return to his car. Instead, he led me down the dark alley to a shadowed garage and jerked open the rusty door.

  “Honda Civic,” he said. “One of a million. Every street. Every parking lot. The most stolen car in America and the one no one would ever expect to catch me in.”

  “Except tonight?” I said quietly. His demeanor had shifted slightly. Boosting cars was his element—exactly where he wanted to be, even if he believed tonight’s car was unstealable.

  He smirked and cocked his head. “And any other time I don’t want spotted.”

  “How many cars and houses do you own?” I figured my chances of getting an answer were slim to none, but of all the questions running through my head, that seemed like the safest to voice. I pulled out the key he’d given me earlier and unlocked the car.

  “Depends on your definition of ‘own’.”

  I rolled my eyes. It was dark, so I gave into the childish temptation. There was no use in fighting and I needed some kind of outlet I could control. I adjusted the driver’s seat and settled in. “Is this a stolen car?”

  “Nah. It was a junker.” Colt pulled out a gun from the inside of his jacket. Ejected the clip, looked at it and shoved it back in. “Don’t tell Jace,” once again, he continued talking like there wasn’t anything the least bit odd about this situation, “but it’s in his name. I figured it was more suited to his image.”

  “Lovely,” I muttered, starting the car and backing out of the narrow garage.

  “Head down Port Street to the southeast side of town.” Colt pulled back the slide on the gun to load a bullet, then tucked it back in his jacket.

  I had grown up around guns, but nothing could make this situation less unnerving. “Do I get to know any of the plan beforehand?”

  “Don’t get caught.”

  Why did I bother? “That’s easy for you to say. Is the place guarded? Alarmed—”

  He jerked up my skirt and pinched my clit until my eyes watered, and I let off the gas. “None of that is your problem. You sit in the car and tell me if you see anything—house lights, suspicious people, cops.”

  I bit my tongue against snapping about him being the most suspicious person I was likely to see. I pressed my knees together, but I was still sensitive—sore, and yet oddly aroused—making every pressure or movement another threat to my wavering sanity.

  I parked where Colt instructed. Two houses up from his target. We were in the less populated portion of town where people traded street lamps and sidewalks for much larger yards. Some of the houses had their own tall lights hanging over the driveways, but for the most part, we had the cover of night on our side.

  “Give me your phone,” Colt said, holding out his hand. I plopped it in his hand and he fiddled around with it.

  “How’d you get my passcode?” I asked when he flipped right through it and unlocked the phone.

  He winked and handed it back, then pulled out his own phone and put in a set of headphones. After looking around, he pushed his door open and, without a word, fished his bags out of the back seat and vanished.

  My phone buzzed, and I squeezed my eyes closed before checki
ng the screen.

  Two Scotches.

  Maybe he had a sense of humor in there somewhere. I tapped accept.

  “Put your phone on speaker and tuck it in the visor,” he instructed before I had a chance to say hello.

  I did as he said, fidgeting in my seat as I tried to keep an eye on everything around me.

  I heard popping and scraping coming across the speaker, then utter silence. I glanced in the rearview mirror once, then again, staring down the approaching. As it passed a tall light a couple hundred feet back, I noticed the lights on the roof.

  “There’s a cop car coming up the road.”

  No response.

  I squeezed the steering wheel and I sank into my seat. Watching as the car passed and continued down the street to the next stop sign. All I could hear was the beating of my heart until Colt’s voice filled the car.

  “And?”

  “He’s gone,” I breathed. “Went through the intersection.”

  “Never again will I complain about working with Buck,” he muttered.

  “You dragged me into this.” Again.

  “And you’ll owe me a big ‘thank you’ later, darlin’.”

  He was doing this to get me away from Devlin, sure, but it was really about fulfilling his own twisted drive to fuck with Devlin. Thank him? For what?

  Their relationship, I would never understand.

  “Selfish asshole,” I mumbled back.

  “Damn straight.” Something thudded. “I’m in the car, all I have to do is pop the garage door. Anyone around?”

  “N—“ I started to speak, but a familiar sight caught my attention in the rear view. “Cop’s back. Moving slower this time.”

  “Then, get his attention,” Colt grunted. “Run a stop sign. Squeal the tires. Do something to make sure he’s occupied long enough for me to get out of here.”

  “What?” I almost jumped out of my seat. I glanced up, the cruiser had just passed under the same light I’d spotted him under the first time. . “Colt, you have—“

  “Now, Aubrey.”

  I started the car, jerked it into drive, and attempted to peel out onto the road like an idiot who wasn’t paying attention to anything.

  It was a lame attempt.

  The cop was still a few car lengths back when I slammed on the breaks for the next stop sign. I checked the intersection to make sure it was clear, then slammed on the gas.

  The rear view mirror lit up, and I felt the tears burning to start.

  I’d never had a ticket in my life. My hands shook. My heart thumped. But I rolled the window down.

  “License and registration.” He said, shining his flashlight into my eyes. I saw spots as I patted my pocket and slide my ID out. Then, I reached for the glove compartment. What if Colt kept a gun there, too? “Um. It’s um. My boyfriend’s car. I don’t know where—“

  “You aware of what you did?” Like Colt, his expression and tone didn’t reveal a drop of emotion.

  “Yeah, sorry. I—We had a fight and I—“ I couldn’t stop stuttering. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just want to get home.”

  He shined the flashlight into the back of the car and looked around. “I’m going to run your license and tags. If it’s clean you can go with a warning.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes, leaning my head back and hoping to the highest of hopes that the tags were clean—and that he wouldn’t find my arrest. One of Devlin’s many attempts at retribution.

  I glanced up to the mirror again, watching a red car pull out of a driveway and head in the opposite direction. I was going to thank him all right. Jackass.

  The cop tapped on my door, and I jumped lifting my head from the headrest.

  He handed me back my license and a slip of paper. “You’re free to go, but no more reckless driving. Work things out or leave the asshole, but don’t get someone killed or get yourself locked up in the process.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I tried to smile, but I was too shaky. I was even less cut out to be a car thief—or a car thief’s assistant—than I was to be a stripper.

  He nodded and stepped away, so I jerked down my phone and redialed Colt.

  “Meet me on the corner of twenty-sixth and oak,” he said, and the call disconnected.

  Thanks, asshole, I’m fine. I considered biding my time during the next six months by learning a new language. At least then I might have some new words to express my disdain and anger. I pulled away from the curb, gingerly this time, and headed to our meeting point.

  I expected Colt to be there when I pulled up, but there was nothing except an empty municipal parking lot flanked by tall abandoned looking buildings. I shut off the engine and triple checked to make sure the doors were locked.

  My fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

  Where the hell was he?

  My leg bounced while my gaze darted around to each mirror and window.

  What if he’d been caught?

  Arrested?

  Killed?

  What if he was on the run?

  I stared at my phone.

  Ten minutes passed.

  I wondered if I should call him.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Damn it, Colt.

  Twenty minutes.

  Chapter 11

  At more than fifty years old, the Ferrari still drove like a dream. I drove it to my meeting point with Wilson. We changed it every month, and usually, he had one of his cronies show up to meet me and pick up the goods. This time, he was there himself with a large trailer waiting.

  I drove the car up the ramp and into the trailer. He always had the transport trailers wired to cut off any GPS transmissions. Once I was inside, I cut off the engine and set the parking break. Now it was all up to Wilson.

  I still had a suspicious feeling about all of this though—someone could just as easily double cross me in this case and throw me to the wolf to get a step up. I kept my gloves and beanie on, making sure not to leave a single thing in or around the car that could be traced back to me.

  Wilson stood in the middle of the ramp staring in at the unique car with an appraising grin.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning since you can never be caught dead driving the damn thing,” I said.

  “Don’t worry,” was the only response he’d give me.

  But I had to worry. This wasn’t a typical job at all.

  “This girl,” Wilson said, walking slowly down the ramp. “She must be something.”

  “She’s a distraction,” I said. Aubrey was none of his business and I didn’t want to cater to his curiosities in that area any more than necessary.

  He made a sound in his throat, and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Sometimes those will get you killed.”

  “And sometimes they keep me from killing. I intend to have some fun.”

  “Fun. That’s how things started with Katrin, was it not?”

  Bastard. I grumbled. He knew nothing about Katrin, or how we got started. “Are we good to go or not?”

  Wilson’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Already made the call to Devlin this afternoon. I was confident that you’d come through and I thought it would be less suspicious if the arrangements were already made before your heist. I’ll meet with him tomorrow and discuss where we might go.”

  Hell was likely the only destination they’d both agree on. There was still a lot up in the air before this plan could be called a success. But I nodded, adjusting my duffle over my shoulder and preparing for my walk across town to meet Aubrey.

  “What are you planning?” Wilson asked before I could step away. “Are you still looking to avenge Katrin?”

  Again. I had no way of telling him or anyone else what this was really about. Indulging my curiosities. Ensuring Devlin got what he deserved. It was about far more than Wilson could ever understand. “It’s none of my business what you do with the car. It’s none of your business what I do with the girl or my brother.”

&n
bsp; Wilson sealed the car inside the trailer and locked it. “Oh, but if I’m getting into bed with your brother, it is. I want to know where and when the shit will be flying.”

  I scoffed. “Looks like we’re both going to have to trust each other.”

  “You, maybe.” Wilson sneered. “But anyone would be a fool to trust Devlin. Likewise, do you really trust this girl? How long have you known her? She was one of Devlin’s cunts, as I recall. What makes you think he doesn’t already have his claws sunk in deep enough to control everything she’s doing…? What, by the way, is she doing now?”

  Grunting, I clenched my hand around the strap to my duffle. I wanted to slam it upside his paranoid and cocky head. “It was your idea to have her help tonight. She’s waiting for me a few blocks away.”

  “I’m merely pointing out that Devlin plays the perfect long game…. And the opportunity—”

  “I have it under control,” I said. I was dangerously close to losing my cool and it seemed like everyone around me was playing a game of musical chairs just to see who’d be the one to push me over. Wilson was so paranoid he killed most women within months of bedding them. If they looked at him weird after taking a line of coke or a romp in the sack, he figured they were out to steal his fortune. I scowled and kept walking. Aubrey was mine.

  But…. That’s exactly what Devlin would want me to think. Did she really trust me enough to be honest about everything he asked of her? Why would she?

  What if there was more to her deal?

  Wilson paused with his hand on the back door to his sleek black Mercedes. “Much as I’d love to see you bring Dev down a few notches. I’m taking whichever side I need to expand my business.”

  “I’d expect nothing less. But,” I paused, returning his glower. “I’ll do the same to protect my interests.”

  He nodded and slid into the car. As I started to walk away again, the tinted window rolled down slightly. “Have fun with your new Katrin," he called out with a smirk.

  Maybe I’d add him to my hit list along with Devlin. After this, he’d do me no good anyway.