SOLD TO A KILLER

by Evelyn Glass

  The man craned his head around to peer at me, and a look of white-hot panic flashed across his face.

  “What do you want?” he demanded, struggling harder now. Maybe he thought we were some kind of vigilante justice group? Well, in this case, we were a little, but we weren’t going to do much more than question him and hand him over to the cops.

  “I want you to tell me what you’re doing here,” I began, squatting down so that I could look him in the eye. He appeared to be in his early twenties, with longish dark hair that curled down around his ears and pale grey eyes.

  “I wasn’t doing anything! I live in the building and I forgot my keys, that’s all it was—”

  “Oh, so we can get hold of some of the neighbors, then?” I asked, getting to my feet. “Get them to confirm that?”

  “No!” he exclaimed, panicked. “I mean—”

  “You were here peeping, weren’t you?” I snarled. “Peering through her window like some fucking pervert.”

  “No!” he protested again, but this time with less conviction. I could tell he was running out of ideas, that he hadn’t expected this and now he was terrified for his life and just wanted to get out of this situation with his skull intact. I got back down on my haunches and leaned right up towards his face, making sure he could see the anger in my eyes.

  “Then tell us what you were doing here, friend,” I suggested calmly. He stared up at me for a moment and then, apparently defeated, closed his eyes.

  “Fine,” he admitted. “I was looking through her window. But she wanted me to! She would dress up in these little robes and—”

  “Mona, call the police,” I instructed over my shoulder, uninterested in hearing whatever disgusting justification he had for his actions. She pulled out her phone and dialed, stepping out of the room to make the call. I wasn’t done with this guy, not yet. I just wanted him to be at the end of his leash so I could get everything I wanted out of him.

  “Who are you working with?” I hissed. “Who?”

  “What?” The man looked confused. “I’m not working with anyone.”

  “Does the name Ian mean anything to you?” I watched him carefully, eyeing him for even a flicker of comprehension—but nothing. Not a hint.

  “What, my brother-in-law?” he replied with a shake of the head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I paused for a moment longer, and glared him down for a second; I wanted it to be clear to this piece of shit that if he was lying to me there would be hell to pay. But he genuinely seemed nonplussed by what I was saying. I got to my feet and turned to Devil.

  “Hold him here till the police arrive,” I ordered. “And let me know when you see him in the back of the van.”

  “Will do, boss,” Devil replied almost cheerily, nodding in my direction. I went to scoop up Ella, and bumped into Mona in the hallway. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I caught her by the arms as we stumbled into one another.

  “Oh, sorry,” she murmured, and glanced up at me. That was it. I couldn’t take it any longer.

  “You want to stay over tonight?” I suggested. “At mine?”

  “I was planning to anyway.” She shrugged. “I mean—”

  “In my bed?”

  Her eyes widened. There was no mistaking what I’d said—I wanted her in my bed, and I wanted it now. She blinked up at me for a second, and then nodded slowly. I tucked my hand behind her head and kissed her, hard—it was all I could do not to press her against the wall and take her right there and then, right where we stood. But I had to get Ella home, and besides, I wanted to make the most of this. We’d waited long enough, and I was going to enjoy every second together.

  Chapter Twelve

  The drive back was almost silent, as though both of us were going over what was about to happen in our heads. I could still feel the pressure of his lips against mine, and even the memory of it was enough to send my pulse racing. As we drove, he reached over to place his hand on my leg, sliding it high so that it rested on the top of my thigh—every time his fingers moved across my skin, they left a trail of sparks behind them. Jesus, I needed this. I needed him.

  Jazz put Ella to bed again as soon as we came through the door, and I leaned up against the couch, not sure what I should do or where I should go. I clenched and unclenched my fists—was this a good idea? More importantly, did I give a shit if it wasn’t? I’d wanted Jazz from the first second I’d laid eyes on him, and I’d known for longer than I’d care to admit that he felt the same way. I didn’t want to wait anymore. I couldn’t wait anymore.

  He made his way back down the stairs slowly, until he was standing at the bottom. He looked over at me, slowly removing his jacket and slinging it over the bannister next to him. My breath came a little quicker. The way he looked at me—as if some part of him was burning and I was the only way he knew to put it out. He made his way across the room to me, taking his time, planting one foot in front of the other as though determined to revel in this moment forever. Because this moment—in this moment, we hadn’t done anything wrong. In this moment, we could still argue that we were platonic. In this moment, we could pretend that everything was the same, and that nothing had changed. But then, he reached me, and there was no pretending anymore.

  He caught my face in his hands and tilted it up towards him; he paused for a moment to look at me, taking me in as though he wanted to absorb me whole. All I could do was stare back, lips slightly parted, and fight the urge to throw myself at him. There was something so tantalizing about the wait, about the way he was making me take this one step at a time. I wasn’t usually that good at giving up control, but all I could do at that moment was stare back up at him, utterly hypnotized. He ran his thumb over the outline of my jaw and I closed my eyes. His scent was intoxicating, surrounding me completely, enveloping me in the warm, rich scent of him.

  And then, after what felt like forever, he kissed me.

  As soon as our mouths met, there was no holding back anymore. Any semblance of control we might have been holding on to vanished at once, as his hands roamed across my body and I pushed myself against him. God, he felt good—tight and strong and warm. It had been a while since I’d hooked up with anyone, and even then, I had never felt anything close to the connection I had with Jazz.

  He cupped my ass with both hands, jerking me forward so I could feel his hard-on pressing against my hip. I ground against him, my pussy already growing slick at his every touch. Our tongues met and I groaned softly; he flicked up my skirt and groped at my bare skin, his hands skimming over my cotton underwear. I momentarily cursed myself for not wearing something more alluring, but I couldn’t really give a damn—not when this was finally happening.

  Suddenly, he tucked one arm beneath my legs and scooped me up so I was cradled against his chest. His mouth never left mine, and I wrapped my arms around him, partly for support and partly because I wanted to feel him close to me. He turned and began to carry me up the stairs, towards his bedroom, and my pulse picked up speed.

  He kicked the door open and carried me over the threshold—it was like some kind of fucked-up wedding night, and I loved it. I could feel his hot breath on my ear, feel the warmth and the wetness of his mouth so close to my skin, and it was all I could do not to lean up to him and beg him to take me right that second.

  He laid me down on the bed—but instead of climbing on it with me, he slid between my legs, kneeling on the floor and spreading my thighs in one deft motion. I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling, my chest heaving, as he slowly inched my skirt up over my hips and hooked his fingers around my panties. His fingertips grazed my bare skin as he did so, sending another trail of sparks down my hips and towards my pussy.

  He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my panties, hard enough that I could feel the warmth of his mouth through the fabric; I gasped, and he let out a small laugh.

  “You smell so good,” he murmured, and continued pulling my panties down, inch by painful
inch. My head was spinning, my body reacting to every movement, and I wondered how much more of this I was meant to take without going completely crazy.

  Then, finally, he had me how he wanted me; he paused for a moment, and I looked down to find him staring intently at my pussy. I couldn’t explain why, but it was one of the most singularly sexy things I’d ever seen—no one had ever paid me that much attention down there before, and to know how happy he was just looking at it… It was certainly an encouraging sign; I would say that much. And then, finally, he moved forward, and slid a finger inside of me.

  I gasped, my hips arching off the bed in one swift motion—I would have cried out had it not been for the worry of waking Ella up. He moved his finger into me in a corkscrew motion, taking his time, moving with a luxurious slowness—and watching my face with every movement. He stared intently up at me, reading my reaction, going faster or slower based on the look on my face and the speed of my breath. He leaned forward an inch or two, so I could feel his breath on my aching pussy—but he didn’t touch me with his mouth. The anticipation was killing me, my toes curling tight, every muscle in my body tensing up as he continued to finger me mercilessly.

  This had been so long coming that everything felt more intense than it would have otherwise—or hell, maybe he was just that good. But soon enough, I felt an orgasm building between my legs, my pussy clenching around his fingers—but he still hadn’t gone down on me. I looked down, and met his gaze—he was hovering between my legs, mouth painfully close to my cunt, but refusing to do anything more than look. And then, he spoke.

  “Are you close?” he asked, and I nodded before I could so much as gasp a word out.

  “Yes!”

  And with that, he leaned forward, and sealed his lips around my clit, sucking hard and flicking his tongue against my sensitive tip. I had to bite my lip hard to keep from screaming in pleasure as the orgasm finally hit me, sweeping across my entire body in one fluid motion—starting at my pussy and radiating out with a warmth across every muscle in my body. I gasped loudly, and watched as he slowly lifted his mouth from me. He smiled and licked his lips, the mere look on his face enough to send another shudder of attraction across my skin.

  “I really need to fuck you right now,” he murmured, clambering on top of me at last and kissing me hard.

  “We’ll need to be naked for that,” I pointed out, and before I knew it, our clothes were sitting in a small, crumpled heap on the floor a few feet away, and Jazz had pulled a condom out from the drawer next to his bed. He quickly ripped it open and sheathed himself, and lay down beside me. He reached out and placed a hand on my hip, running it down my side and looking at me seriously.

  “Do you want this?” he asked in a murmur, his words hanging in the air between us. I knew I should have said no, should have pushed him away—that this would fuck up the good thing we had going between us. But I didn’t care. My head was clouded with lust, and the only thing I could think about at that second was how thick his cock looked and how satiating it would feel inside me.

  “Fuck, yes.” I nodded, and without further ado, he tucked his hands underneath my arms and pulled me on top of him. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, holding it steady, and slowly lowered myself onto his full length.

  We both held still for a second once he was inside me—his full length left me feeling like I needed a second to adjust, and he seemed happy just to savor the moment and enjoy my pussy spreading to take him. And then, I began to move.

  “Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered through gritted teeth as I arched my hips back and forth. He had teased me for what felt like an age—now it was my turn to get my revenge. He sank his fingers into my hips and tried to guide me up and down faster, but I was determined to take my time and watch him squirm. A smile curled onto his lips as he realized what I was doing, and he let his hands roam elsewhere—they eventually came to a stop on my tits, where he pinched and pulled at my nipples until they swelled with arousal. I placed my hands against his chest and moved my hips in small, shallow circles, enjoying the look on his face, enjoying making him wait.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he remarked through gritted teeth, watching as my body moved up and down over the top of his.

  “And you aren’t?” I pointed out. He grinned and thrust up into me in one hard motion—he was obviously tired of waiting. The feeling of him suddenly buried so deep and so hard inside of me was a shock, but a good one. I held still for a second, and then pushed myself upright so I could take every inch of him inside of me. He groaned softly, and I leaned down to gently tug on his lip with my teeth before returning to my position astride him.

  “Okay, can I fuck you now?” he asked, running his fingers lightly across my back. I nodded, grinding down against him, suddenly addicted to the way he felt when he was deep inside of me.

  He needed no more encouragement than that, and swiftly wrapped his arm around my waist and flipped me on to my back, burying himself inside me in one hard thrust. He pulled my hips up and fucked me hard, kneeling to give himself the leverage he needed.

  “Play with yourself,” he ordered, and, almost without thinking, I allowed my hand to stray between my legs, and began drawing circles around my clit. Fuck, I could already feel another orgasm building—it was all about the way he was looking at me, the darkness and determination in his eyes. He glanced down at my hand, busy between my thighs, and let out another moan.

  “Can I come inside you?” he murmured—and before I knew it, another orgasm had torn through me, this one more intense than the last. The sound of his voice, the growl at the back of his throat, matched by the filth of his request had been enough. I arched up off the bed again, my mouth dropping open in a silent cry of pleasure. My pussy clenched tight around his cock, and he thrust deep into me one last time.

  I wanted to hold myself like that forever—that moment after we both came, it felt for a moment as though the breath had been knocked from me. His eyes were screwed tight shut, but as he opened them, I could see that he was coming back to reality—his gaze drifted up my naked body, as though he still couldn’t quite believe that he got to see it. I slowly lifted myself off of him, and lay down on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, and absentmindedly pressed his nose into my hair. Neither of us said a word, and it took me a second to pluck up the courage to be the first one to talk.

  “So…” I let the word hang between us, but at the same time, I didn’t want to have to think about the consequences of what we’d just done. Real life could wait.

  “Can we leave that till tomorrow?” Jazz suggested, and I nestled myself into his chest. He pulled the covers over me, and I found my eyes drifting shut. After everything that had happened over the last twelve hours, I wanted nothing more than to sleep, and to figure out where we would go—in all senses—when I woke up.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I woke up the next morning to the first watery rays of sunshine leaking through the window opposite the bed. My eyes flickered open, and the first thing I noticed was the weight of Mona lying against my chest.

  Oh, shit.

  I looked down, and saw that she was still asleep on top of me; her hair was a messy, dark halo around her head, smudges of last night’s make-up still on her face. I leaned down to put my face into her hair, enjoying the smell of her, enjoying the last few seconds before she came to and I had to face up to what we had done.

  I glanced over at the clock, and saw that Ella would be up soon. It was a Saturday, but she usually rolled out of bed before eight, ready to spend the day bouncing off the walls. I gently pulled Ella off of me, and sat up straight. She shifted back and forth on the pillow a couple of times, and then turned her head to face me. I looked down at her as her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched as she pulled herself upright beside me.

  “What time does Ella usually get up on a Saturday?” she asked, and it was clear that both of us were avoiding the big question—what the hell did we do now?

&n
bsp; “Now, more or less.” I shrugged. “You want to get some coffee before she gets up?”

  “Yeah, sounds like a plan.” She swung her legs out of bed and yawned. Despite the fact my mind was bouncing back and forth over whether what we had done was right or not, I couldn’t help letting my eyes drift down her naked body. The curve of her spine, the way it led down into her hips, her ass…the image of her on top of me flashed through my brain, and I felt myself growing hard beneath the covers. No, not now. I needed to keep my head straight.

  She reached for her clothes and dressed herself, and I did the same. We kept our backs to each other, as though pretending that we could backtrack and make things platonic. But we couldn’t retract what had happened between us. Did I want to?

  We made our way downstairs, and I tried to convince myself that this was just like any other morning. I made the coffee, and she leaned up against the counter, but instead of the easy banter we usually shared, an awkward silence hung between us. Until, of course, we both tried to speak at the same time.