Now, I’m on the hunt. I take a deep breath as I head back inside to scan the room. My eyes dart over the heads of guys I can identify despite the masks. Most are hanging around the usual chicks. They all wear the same black dresses with the long slit up the leg. Some wear leather boots. I suspect because that’s what they think guys like me want. Others wear heels so awkwardly high they can’t even walk. My brothers lead those girls out right away. They’re the easy catches—girls so desperate that they’d look like a fool in front of us then actually be comfortable.
But in the growing crowd, over the haze of one of the lit-up dumpsters being set on fire just outside, I spot a ruby red mask. Blood red, like death. It’s tied to the face of a girl with equally red lips. The dark straps tie around the back of jet-black hair that falls down a bare back, floating over an ass that has just the right amount of curve hugged by a pale red dress. It’s one of those pinup style numbers that clings to her tits and then traces around her hips. She twirls for a friend, doing that girl thing that would normally make me want to gag. But when she does it… it’s different. It’s her openmouthed laugh that redeems her.
My feet move me closer to her on instinct. I pass a bar set up just around the dance floor, stealing two shots off it. I couldn't give a shit about who these belong to. They’re mine now. I lift them over my head, over two girls kissing one another as a few guys eagerly watch with their beer bottles plastered to their lips. The music gets louder as I make my way back inside. The dance floor that was nearly empty minutes ago now has people packed into it like sardines. I nearly lose her, but that ruby red mask and flowing hair make it impossible for her to blend in.
Her friends clear when they see me, but she hardly notices. Her head bobs up and down to the rock song, and her hips sway to the beat. This is it. This is the hunt I wanted. My prey is so close that I can reach out and take her, but I know better. Too much and she’ll jump away. Too little and she’ll know she has the best of me already. There has got to be a middle ground here.
I reach my arm around her thin, lean body so that her back is still towards me. My hips fall into her so that she has to grind right into me. It’s a perfect fit. She’s tiny but tall, and she fits like a puzzle piece into my chest. She looks up at me with two gray eyes burning with surprise and something else… maybe confusion. But if she’s upset or scared, she doesn’t give it away. She pauses for a second and then takes the drink. I clink mine against hers and then raise it to my lips. She doesn’t take her eyes off of me as we both tip it back, swallow hard, and lick our lips.
I take the glass from her and throw them at the nearest sucker I can find. Her empty hand finds mine, and she nods as if she knows the part. She places my hand on her waist so that it falls towards the front. Her thin, bony hips begin to softly roll backward and then up again, forcing me to follow her. Her other arm lifts up into the air and then hooks around my neck. I’m not a dancer, but for her, hell if I won’t try.
“What’s your name?” I growl at her through gritted teeth.
“I thought that’s what the mask was for,” she replies as she stops dancing and finally turns towards me. Her hand presses into my chest and then runs up and down my sternum. “I’ll tell you if you want to know.”
“I don’t care,” I reply, honestly. She could be Satan, but in that dress, it doesn’t matter.
“Good.” She smirks and then pulls herself closer so that both arms grab hold of my neck, and I am able to take control. Her red lips twist into a knowing smile, her teeth showing near the end. I can’t stand her like this, like she knows what it is that I want. She has no idea.
With the song ending, I grab hold of her hand and pull her out towards the back exit. I grab a bottle along the way, something heavy and dark. I don’t care what it is.
The fire exit is full of people in all kinds of undress. A hand travels up a skirt. A man sucks the tit of some girl he probably just met. A woman moans in the shadows. I don’t stop to watch or take notes. I want her away from all this. If I’m going to enjoy her, it’s going to be out of everyone’s sight.
Out back, towards the parking lot, is a shed. You can barely see it in the dark, but I’ve been there before. When I was new to the club, I lived out of it—doing repairs and maintenance work for the club president. It wasn’t luxury, far from it, but it was a roof over my head and somewhere to go to get out of the way of the others. When I outgrew it, no one else moved in. It sits empty, except for tonight.
I swing the old door open, and it slaps against the wooden sides in the wind. I step in first, finding a light switch hanging over the old mattress that rests on a platform I built years ago. There is still the musty old blanket I left behind, draped over a thin pillow.
I don’t blame the girl in the mask for pausing. The place isn’t all that appealing, and me brooding over the little home can’t make it look that appetizing either. But I’m not going to take no for an answer.
“Get inside,” I command her. “I’m not waiting for you.”
She takes a deep breath so that I can see her chest rise and then shakily fall in its place. She looks around and then back at the party, maybe towards where her friends are, but then lifts her chin and walks in. I pull the rope that swings the door shut behind her, and then it’s just us standing chest to chest in the tiny, confined space. I don’t break the space before I reach back towards the bottle. It opens with a crisp release of air, like a sigh of relief.
I take the first gulp. More whiskey. I could neck the entire bottle, but I save the next drink for her. She doesn’t hesitate; she grabs it out of my hand and presses those fine lips around the opening. She gulps it down for a long three seconds. Those gray eyes shut, and her round, heart-shaped chin dips back.
My mouth waters watching her. I can’t take it anymore. I yank the bottle off her, letting the contents spill out of her mouth and the top. I place it on the bedside table and, without giving her a second to recover, pull her into my arms. My lips find hers fast and furiously. I can taste the fresh whiskey in her mouth. My tongue laps at the small pool and travels back to me as her mouth pushes back against mine. I can feel her body softening up, giving into me.
Our lips still linked together, I spin her on her toes, so she’s forced back toward the bed. I fall into it first, and she tumbles down on top of me. She manages to reach over towards the booze and peels away for another drink.
When she’s finished, she holds the liquor in her mouth and comes back to me for another kiss. I suck in what doesn’t dribble down my cheeks and neck.
The rest is a haze. It always is.
I know that I flip her over, and she struggles for the first few minutes as I pin her down with her two wrists trapped in my palm. My mouth and free hand work from her lips, down to her long, lean neck, to the space between her huge breasts that nearly fall out of the low-cut dress. I make short work of freeing them.
I let her go for only a second, so that the dress sleeves can fall down her slender, pale arms and off her body. She gasps as I go straight back to her nipples, my mouth sucking them in and then nibbling.
The smell of her… Fuck, what I wouldn’t do to bottle that shit up. As I massage her tits, my hands rolling around her mounds, pressing my face in between them, that scent of her rises up and fills my nostrils. This chick was into the domination thing. I could tell that most girls hated it, even when they tried to convince me otherwise, but she wanted me like this. She wanted me in total control.
I reach over towards the thin blanket, not much more than a sheet really, and place it under and then over her wrists. The closest thing I can tie her to is an old workman’s desk, but it does the trick. She says nothing, only blinks a few times under that plastic and suede red mask that nearly matches the color of her cheeks.
Her dress hikes up around her waist, revealing her sculpted, white, milky legs. She works out. I can tell by the way her muscles flex against the skin. I wonder if she knows how fucking sexy she is or if she works out thi
nking she could look better. But nothing could be better than her legs curled up to her hips, her heels still on and not going anywhere.
I pull her knees back down so that I can examine her panties—red lace. She likes to match. I grin, giving away just how much I enjoy watching her squirm.
The smell of her is intoxicating. The liquor is worse. Everything hits me at once as my head finds the space between her legs. With my teeth, I peel the panties down so that they roll off of her lifted hips and towards her knees, then down to her feet. She wiggles out of them as my own hands touch my tightening pants. I reach back and take another swig of the booze and then another. I don’t need liquid courage for this, but hell if it helps.
As she struggles to see me, I lift the hem of her dress even higher so that her belly button is exposed. It’s the perfect size for a little sip of the liquid to rest in. She giggles and purrs as I pour the whiskey on her body. It drips down towards her clean-shaven pussy and around her thin, curved hips. I lift up her arm, warning her to stay still, and with my tongue, lap at the gold that rests in the indent of her stomach. My mouth follows the trickles of spillage... moving down, down, down... till I feel the warmth of her slit on my chin and then mouth. I should have known she would taste this good.
She exhales in one big huff, and I’m lost. My cock can’t take the sight of her like this anymore. I need her like nothing else in this world.
I move up and onto her, sliding myself between her legs. She spreads eagerly for me, and I rest my chest gently on hers, with just enough weight that I know she can hold me. Her lips trail along my neck and around my ears. I can feel her heartbeats getting faster and faster... Then my cock enters her like a shot
And once I’m in, I’m in. There’s no playing around here, no time to waste.
The moments pass by quickly with each rock of my thick cock into her soft pussy. I grind and drill into her like a man on a fucking mission. My head spins with the feeling of her, the sight of her. The girl’s mask makes me need to know her more. Without knowing who she is, I can take her without a second thought. We’re just two people stuck at this moment in time—me in control and her along for the ride.
Her moans grow as I pick up speed. Her arms lift up against the blanket ties so that her elbows point up like spikes. Without missing a beat, I extend a hand out to where she’s tied to the desk and release the knot. With her wrists still bound, I yank her up forcibly. She cries out in pain, and damn I can’t lie if I don’t like her screaming like that. Her upper body flies towards me, and I dip under the part between her arms with my head peeking out in between. Our faces are inches from one another, so close that I can feel her breaths getting lost in her throat.
“Hang on,” I mutter. And I mean it.
I wrap her body in my arms and lift her up, her pussy still attached to my dick. Taking two steps, I push her over towards a workbench; the perfect height for her to rest on. I duck back under her arms and then spin her around and down so that she’s bent over the dusty, rusted out bench. Her head turns so that I can see the mask ties have nearly come undone. A small, pinched nose juts out from under the striking red material.
The curve of her back pulls down towards me as I re-enter her. Pound after pound, I deliver her my cock. I crash into her like an unavoidable car wreck. No one or thing could stop me. The only thing I’m focused on is the way her pink nails curl and how she struggles to keep up with me, as if she could. Her light, thin voice has become husky and raw with each cry and curse.
It happens before I know it. Her first, of course. She straightens up, resisting me holding her down. Her head falls against my shoulder, and I clasp my fingers around her neck so that I can watch her eyes shut in ecstasy. Her lips move, but nothing comes out but a faint whimper. I’m moments behind her, still holding onto her with my thumb against her chin.
I scream out—I’ve never done that before, and it surprises me to hear my own voice. But I call out to the faceless, masked woman as I spill my cum inside of her. It’s too late to move out of her, so I enjoy the moment—the sight of her gasping and searching for air.
There’s nothing like filling a girl up with hot, dripping cum. But with her, there’s something even better, more urgent about it. I should be cursing myself, but instead, I’m watching her with imploring eyes, hoping she feels it too. This meeting in the dark, our few words shared, it was supposed to happen like this. There’s nothing else to be said, nothing left to do. We both know the score and the procedure.
And even when she walks away, back towards the pulsating music and her friends, she turns back to me, the mask still out of place, and smiles a knowing grin.
Then, she’s gone.
Chapter One Rivet
Ugh. If I could just fucking die right now, that would be great. Seriously. Kill me. It’s like someone is standing over me, nailing me in the head and back with an ice pick.
My stomach turns again, and everything spills out of me.
Again. For the fifth time this week.
“Shh, sweetie.” April coos like the good den mom she is. “It’ll be okay. Just let it out. It’ll be over with soon.” I cough and spit, and despite her reassurance, I wonder if my insides are ever going back to normal.
“It’s probably food poisoning. I heard that Mick got it the other day from some bad seafood we were serving. Did you have any of the shrimp dish Little Red made up? I wouldn’t have touched that crap with a ten-foot pole. The shrimp looked—”
Just the mention of shrimp sends my stomach straight to my throat. I hold on tight to the edge of the toilet and let it rip again. April immediately stops talking, quickly going back to holding my hair and patting my back while humming some song I don’t recognize.
When it’s over, at least when I think it has to be over, she walks back inside the bar and comes out with a damp kitchen towel. She gently trails it over my face as she whispers, “I don’t want to mess up your makeup, sweetie.”
“It’s okay. I already look like a mess. No makeup’s gonna hide it.”
“Oh shush. You look beautiful. No other girl here could hold a candle to you. All the guys are freaking jealous of Viper for landing you.” My lip curls up at the thought, and not into a happy smile. For April and the rest of my friends, having a guy like Viper, the VP of the Carnivores, as your boyfriend is like scoring the winning lottery ticket. Having a claim meant you were untouchable. No other girl could give you shit, and no other guy could pull you to the side and make you go down on him just because you were club property.
But, truly, I couldn’t give a shit about him after the fight we had last night. He came in drunk as a fucking skunk and acted like one too. The smell of him was enough to have me laid up on the couch all night. And the bastard couldn’t even apologize for it. That was him though—all talk and no action with zero consideration of what I may want or need. The girls might think I’m lucky that someone took a claim on me, but as the time’s been passing, it feels more like someone’s put cuffs on me.
“You want me to call him?” April asks, breaking me out of my black thoughts of killing him when I see him after work. “If you can’t make it through the shift, you should really go home. I’m sure Orlando won’t mind, and I’ll cover for you if there’s trouble.”
“No. It’s fine.” I try to push her off as I slowly rise to stand. I take a long drink of the water bottle she left by my side. The cool water is so soothing against my sore throat.
“Fine? Girl, you’re sick, and you’ve been sick almost all this week. I don’t know why you just don’t take a sick day and be done with it. You haven’t taken a day off since you started here, and you cover all the other girls when they need it. Go take a break for once.”
She’s right. I can’t remember a time when I haven’t worked a shift at the Angels and Demons Bar. I’ve needed the money—it’s helped me get back on my feet since I dropped out of my sophomore year of college and landed back in Pasadena. Once I got home, I knew I couldn’t go back to my
dad and his trailer park. There was too much pain there; too much suffering and fresh scars that still ached when I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I found myself in this bar, begging for a job, hoping to get in with one of the clubs.
It took me a year of working my ass off to get the approval of Orlando, the Carnivores president, to be a full, female member. The whole time, I slept in an old apartment with a few of the girls. The only place to rest my head was a pile of musty blankets on the floor of the living room. Escaping to the bar to work was my only refuge, and even now that I live with Viper, I haven’t wanted to miss a shift in fear that I’ll have to go back.
Still, I refuse to give in.
“I’m not sick; I’m fine,” I mutter. In fairness, it’s the truth, and besides, I’m a terrible liar even if I wanted to fake it. I’ve known for about three weeks now that it’s not the seafood or the weather. It isn’t me getting nervous over Viper’s controlling ways either. The little white tests with the pink and purple plus signs told me otherwise.
I’m pregnant.
HITMAN’S SURPRISE BABY Page 34
