Dealing in Death: A Death and the Devil Extended Novella

by L. J. Hayward

  I stopped, watching her from my periphery. Her stance hadn’t changed, but she was looking at me directly now. A pale brow quirked up enquiringly.

  Snorting, I continued toward the stairwell. “I’ve quit.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  Keeping the instinctual reaction to eliminate the threat to a minimum, I turned and faced her, expression locked down. I’d left the Desert Eagles in Jack’s gun safe at the apartment but carried three knives and years of hand to hand combat experience.

  Dejana didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t have lasted as long as she had in this business without learning to face danger without hesitation. The merest hint of vulnerability was like a drop of blood in shark-filled waters.

  “I need protection.” Her voice was back to the one she’d used in her office. All business. “Insurance to do what I do.” She indicated the dead body at her high heels. “Clearly.”

  I agreed with a single nod. “Good luck with filling the position.”

  “I know why you want your money moved as you do. I’ve been expecting your visit for some time now. It would be a shame if I failed to do this for you because I was dead.”

  “I’m sure you can find someone else just as capable. I’ve quit. Completely.”

  Dejana gently nudged the body with the back of one foot. “And yet you rushed over here the moment you noted something wrong. Hardly the actions of someone who doesn’t have an interest in the game anymore.”

  “In the game, no. In my own safety, yes. This doesn’t appear to be move against me.”

  “Fine. Best of luck finding someone else to move your money for you. If it is even still in your accounts when you find them.”

  “I don’t need the money that badly.”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I believe you do need help escaping those who think they own you.”

  I locked down the sudden worry. “I’ve already done that.”

  “Are you certain? When two hands shake, both must let go.”

  Behind the sunglasses lenses, my eyes narrowed. This was the sort of manipulation and machination I’d hoped to leave behind forever. It didn’t, however, stop her from being correct. I’d done everything I could to leave the Cabal, but that didn’t mean they’d let me go.

  “Can you do this?” I asked quietly.

  The hint of a smile was smug. “I don’t promise what I can’t deliver, Saint.”

  Dejana’s reputation was solid. It was the main reason I came to her.

  Without another word I returned to the body and picked up the H&K rifle.

  “You were my last appointment for today,” Dejana said coolly. “I won’t need you until tomorrow.” From a pocket, she produced a card and a pen. Writing briefly, she said, “Meet me at this address at ten a.m. I’ll have a phone for you that only I have the number for. Bring the rifle.”

  I took the card, memorised the address and handed it back, as she had done in the office earlier.

  “I’ll have the first of your transfers completed by the day after tomorrow, one of the smaller ones, to give you some walking around money,” she said as she turned to leave.

  “Knock off the extra ten percent from your fee.”

  Dejana glanced back at me, that eyebrow raised again. “Three percent.”

  “Seven.”

  She laughed and kept walking. “Five. See you tomorrow, Saint.”

  As I got back to Victoria and stowed the rifle under the passenger seat, I marvelled at how short my peaceful life as a retired assassin had been.

  Jack would kill me if he found out.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon at a gun range on the outskirts of the city, testing the rifle. It performed superbly, having been very well cared for. Afterwards, I left the weapon in my storage shed, returned to the hotel room, which I had until the end of the week, and showered to remove all traces of my evening activities. Then I sat on the bed to tie my shoes and just did not get up.

  I’d given in far too easily to Dejana’s demand. Zero hadn’t exactly said the Cabal had agreed to my terms, but he hadn’t said they objected, either. I was free already.

  Unless I wasn’t.

  I couldn’t risk it for Jack’s sake. For my sake. I’d wanted this for a very long time, before I’d met Jack even, and this was the best possible way for it to happen. My only recourse was to continue with this ill venture and hope it didn’t cause trouble with Jack.

  By the time I’d worked through the dilemma, it was quite late. Grateful I hadn’t given Jack a definite time, I returned to Leichhardt and found him already in bed. I suppose some of the worry showed because he watched me warily as I undressed.

  “You can use the wardrobe,” Jack said. “And we can reorganise the tallboy to fit your undies in.”

  “You wouldn’t mind if I did?”

  “Of course not. I thought this was what we were doing. What we talked about. You being here for more than a flying visit. Staying here.”

  Right then I realised this was the first time either of us had mentioned it since reuniting last night. Some of the tension in my chest eased just hearing it aloud. “I suppose I wasn’t sure if that was still what you wanted.”

  “Jesus, Ethan. Just toss your clothes in the laundry basket and get your stupid arse in bed.”

  Which I did. We play wrestled for a while, seemingly leading toward sex, then Jack’s mood turned pensive, so we talked about our days, which included Jack moaning about his assignment. I sympathised but couldn’t help but wonder what other couples chatted about at night. Surely not the trials of going undercover. Jack sounded so morose about it that I aimed to distract him in as pleasant a way as I could, trailing my fingers in suggestive patterns over his chest.

  “Christ,” he moaned mid-sentence and pulled me on top. “Quit teasing and just get on with whatever you want to do.”

  “As you wish, Jack.”

  Jack faux-grumbled as I retraced the trail marked by my fingers with lips and tongue. His erection from earlier came back remarkably fast, giving me something to rub against. His crankiness faded almost as fast as his cock rose, his hands sliding up and down my back, strong fingers digging into my arse and grinding me on him harder when I dared to pull back.

  I made sure every inch of his broad, muscular torso knew just how much I’d missed it. Jack ran his hands up my back, the heat of his touch curling my spine. He held me there, poised above him, and kissed my exposed throat, slowly making his way downwards. As he went, he pushed me back, following until he was sitting up and I was in his lap. I arched against the circle of his arms and Jack groaned before sucking one of my nipples into his hot mouth. Gasping, I pushed into the sensation, one hand on his head, the other bracing myself on his thigh.

  “God,” Jack mumbled against my skin, “I love this. You on my lap. Moaning like that.”

  “Hmm. I would never have guessed.” Which got my arse spanked.

  “Behave,” he growled over my startled gasp.

  Cheek stinging with a pleasant warmth, I asked, “Or?”

  “Or this stops now.” He tried to look stern, but it was ruined when his lips twitched a second before he gave me another swat.

  Surprisingly enjoying the sensation, I wriggled my hips exaggeratedly. “But I thought you liked lap dances.”

  “You little shit.”

  Jack surged up, intending to tip us over so I was on the bottom. Laughing, I twisted, trying to get free before he pinned me. Somewhere in the manoeuvre my foot got caught under Jack’s arm. He tipped too far in the wrong direction and over we went.

  When everything stopped moving, we were on the floor beside the bed, me on my back, Jack half on top of me.

  After a moment to take stock of the situation, I muttered, “Perhaps we need a bigger bed.”

  Jack snorted and propped himself up on one elbow so he could leer outrageously. “I don’t know. We have all this floor space.” He gestured grandly, then rubbed his still hard cock against my thigh. “We’re not
going to fall any further. Let’s make the most of it.”

  “But, Jack.” The words turned into a moan as he shifted completely on top and resumed his plan of attack on my nipples. My legs automatically parted and wrapped around his hips. Cocks slipping and sliding together, I thought perhaps he had a valid point.

  Then Jack thrust his hips just right, my back arched, scraping my shoulder blades against the hard surface, and the back of my skull connected a bit too sharply with the floorboards.

  “Shit.” Jack sat back on his heels and hauled me up, pulling my head to his chest. “You okay?” He ran his fingers through my hair, gently seeking any damage.

  The mild pain faded with the tender touch. I leaned into his chest, wallowing in the sensation.

  “Ethan? Does it hurt anywhere?”

  “Hmm? Oh. No, I’m fine.”

  After a moment, Jack chuckled and pushed my face off his chest. “Okay, stop drooling on me. Let’s take this back to the bed. Third time’s the charm?”

  We stood but before getting into bed, Jack checked my back and arse, rather thoroughly, for injuries.

  “Still perfect.” His hands lingered on my hips and he moved up behind me, hard cock aligning flawlessly with my crack.

  About to correct his “perfect” comment, I got distracted, both by him grinding against me and the recliner in the corner. An image formed in my head and I drew Jack to the chair.

  “What are you . . .” His question trailed off as I turned him and pushed him into the recliner. “Ethan?”

  Without a word, I arranged him to my preferences, arse on the edge of the seat, legs spread but not too wide, arms up and hands holding on to the headrest. Throughout, Jack watched me with curious lust, his cock hard and leaning on his taut abdomen, tip glistening with pre-come.

  “Ethan?” he tried again when I stepped back to admire my work.

  “Jack,” I returned, restraining the urge to give up my silly idea and just fall on him.

  It never failed to amaze me that Jack’s body could affect me so viscerally. From that first moment in the shed in the Great Sandy Desert, seeing his long, lean frame still attempt a slouch while tied to a chair had captured my eye. And when the subterfuge was over—for him at least—and he’d let the military man show, all straight lines and hard angles, I was no less caught and had been ever since. I still dreamed about the devil costume he’d worn for one of his jobs.

  “Is this going to be a don’t touch, don’t talk type fuck?” Jack’s arms flexed as he tested his grip on the recliner, as if settling in for a long time.

  “No.” I started moving, just a little sway, and touched my hips and thighs with fingertips, skimming my skin in swirls and loops.

  Jack swallowed and his gaze locked onto my hands like a targeting system. “Then what is it?”

  Unable to stop the smirk, I said, “Something I think you’ll enjoy,” before turning and backing onto his lap, still rolling my hips to a silent rhythm.

  After a stunned moment, Jack whispered, “Oh fuck.” The soft old leather squeaked under the pressure of his hold and his groin jerked up a small fraction. Then, breathless with lust and perhaps a touch of amusement, he said, “You’re giving me a lap dance?”

  I rubbed my arse along the line of his cock. “Since the last one was cut short, I thought you might—ow!”

  The ringing of the light but smarting smack to my rear was drowned out by my laughter.

  Jack’s murmured, “Crazy bastard,” was warm with affection, though, and the slide of his hand up my spine, slow and deliberate until his fingers teased the nape of my neck, was pure heat and desire.

  “Half right, Jack.” I tipped my head back, inviting his touch to go further and his fingers curled through my hair, tugging but not painful. I let him pull until my spine was sharply curved, my arse still rocking on his lap.

  “Jesus,” he hissed. “So fucking beautiful.”

  Jack’s other hand landed on my hip, not commanding, just connecting, feeling the motion through splayed fingers that traced over the top of my flexing thigh, rolling hip bone and under the curve of my arse cheek. I groaned, sounding wanton and desperate. I was wanton and desperate.

  Every touch was like the spark of a livewire. I was shaking as I continued to move on him. A cynical part of me, all but smothered by raging lust, said I must look ridiculous, sliding around naked on another man’s lap. Yet I didn’t care because Jack was touching me like he would never stop and making sounds that shivered in my skin and set my nerves to humming. For him, I would do anything.

  “Turn around.”

  I was sure he meant it to be an order, but it came out pleading and broken. There was no hesitation in me, however. I turned and Jack pulled me back onto his lap, straddling him on my knees. He pulled me in until our cocks were pressed together between us. One hand spread across my upper back, his thumb teasing my hairline. The other went low, curving around my arse, the tips of his fingers sliding over and over my sensitive entrance. I didn’t think I was dancing anymore, but I was certainly moving. Forwards to rut against his cock, backwards into his fingers, and Jack was keeping a beat with his words, “Fuck. Yeah. God. Perfect. Christ. Ethan. There,” uttered between kisses and nips and licks to my neck, chest, arms.

  I felt whole and real and alive.

  I felt safe. Secure enough to let it all go and just exist.

  “Ethan?”

  The concern in the word brought me back to the moment. Everything was still in motion. Jack slowly and irrevocably taking me apart with his touch and putting me back together with his voice, but now he was looking at me, head titled back slightly, lips parted as he panted, dark brows pinched together in worry.

  “You sort of went away, in here.” Jack tapped my forehead gently.

  “Quite the opposite,” I murmured.

  Jack’s smile was downright devilish. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Very good.” I traced a finger over his eyebrows, then down around the outer curve of his eye socket, across his cheek and along the side of his nose. The stubble around his mouth made my fingertip tingle, the softness of his lips soothing it away gently. Jack met my fingertip with the point of his tongue, making me gasp, then again, louder, when he caught my finger and sucked.

  His gaze held mine, staring unrelentingly into me as his lips and tongue did wonderfully awful things to my finger. Each stroke of his tongue sent an equivalent shiver down my cock. When he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, my hips jerked in sympathy. He licked and nibbled and sucked faster and I panted along with his rhythm, my free hand inching ever closer to my aching cock.

  Jack caught my hand and put it behind my back, holding it there. He frowned sternly, then went back to his torture. I whimpered plaintively but it failed to move him to mercy. It was barely a minute longer before I was wriggling on his lap, seeking more friction against his belly, more pressure from his cock next to mine. Another minute endured, then I broke.

  “Jack. Jack, please. Suck my cock. Please.”

  All suction ceased and slowly, Jack slid his mouth off my finger. “Say that again.”

  I knew what he wanted to hear but played dumb, though the heat rushing up my neck and cheeks surely gave me away. “Say what?” The words were barely audible.

  “What you want me to do.” A hint of smirk curved his lips upwards.

  My hair was sure to burst into flames at any moment. “You heard me.”

  “Yeah. I’d like to hear it again though.” Jack nuzzled into my chest. “Because unlike last time you spoke dirty to me, I think you mean it this time. I don’t care about that, though. Just need to hear you say those words again, right now.” Big, beautiful dark eyes cast a soulful look my way. “Please.”

  For a man who could be rather unforgiving, Jack absolved me of so many sins I could sometimes forget I wasn’t good enough for him.

  “Jack,” I said slowly and clearly, “suck my cock.”

  Any
sense of accomplishment I may have felt vanished in a flurry of Jack repositioning me until I was kneeling on the armrests of the chair, my groin right at his face level, aching cock pointed rather obscenely at where it wanted to be.

  “Yeah.” Jack licked his lips and stretched his jaw. “Yeah, perfect.”

  Then he closed his mouth over the end of my cock.

  Hands braced on the back of the chair, I closed my eyes and let Jack work his magic. All the sensations he’d fed into my finger were amplified ten-fold and I was embarrassingly close to coming very swiftly. Jack seemingly knew this, however, and slowed until I wasn’t panting and trembling so much I was in danger of falling from my perch. Then he slid his mouth all the way down until his nose was in my pubic hair and the head of my cock was pushed into the back of his throat.

  “Jack,” I whispered.

  Then he swallowed. Again. And again.

  I floundered, half out of my mind with the jolts of pleasure racing through me, half with panic that Jack would choke. He didn’t, thankfully, and pulled his mouth off slowly, licking up my shaft the entire way.

  “Jack.” It came out shaky and broken.

  He must have heard the concern in my voice because he nuzzled into my groin, kissing and humming against my fevered skin. “It’s all good. Love doing that.”

  It sounded sincere and I knew—absolutely knew—Jack wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to, and yet I couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to. Or if he really didn’t mind that I couldn’t return the favour.

  Head tilted back, chin resting on my hip, Jack smiled up at me. His lips were wet and eyes bright with excitement. “Can I keep going? Want you to come in my mouth.”

  I shouldn’t agree. This was too much when it was all one sided . . . and yet, selfishly, I nodded.

  Jack grinned stupidly, laid a trail of kisses and nips across both hips, then sucked my balls into his mouth and wiped any and all thoughts from my head. Damp fingers slid between my arse cheeks, stroking over my entrance in time with the delicious pulling on my cock as he went back to sucking it. His name tumbled from my mouth on gasps with silly frequency, but even biting my lips didn’t stop the need to praise him, so I touched him. His head, shoulders, cheeks, flexing biceps, any part of him I could reach, to let him know it was him, just him, only him, who could ever do this to me.