Joey shakes his head again at my answer. “This is different, and you know it.”
I turn to face him. He doesn’t usually argue with me, but I can tell he wants to right now. His face is a light shade of red because he’s pissed.
“You want to fuck her too?” I ask, smiling. “Good luck to you. Not even I could get it in.” He doesn’t need to know that I did and I pulled out, but it was her who ended it.
“No, don’t try to change the subject.”
I hold my hand up at him, and he shuts up the minute I do.
“When are they coming?” I ask.
“Tomorrow. And then the following day, their wives.”
“I fucking hate these days.”
“It was your idea,” Joey points out, being the smartass he has become over the years.
I rub my hand down my jaw, noting the slight stubble that’s starting to grow back. I need to shave.
“Are you going to invite her?”
I don’t answer, instead, I walk into my room to find her asleep, curled into a ball.
I’ve had to kill women before and I didn’t think twice about it. I was raised to be a killer—to be as ruthless as humanly possible. I could walk down a street, pull my gun out and shoot you in the head, then sleep soundly that night.
Your death does not matter to me.
You do not matter to me.
The only thing that matters to me is my life.
And my job.
Neither would work without the other.
I left before she woke, and when I come back in later that afternoon to shower and change, she’s sitting on the bed, a plate of fruit in front of her, engrossed in her phone. My hand reaches for her leg, and I give it a tug. Eyes that are so vibrantly green stare back at me.
“Come wash my back.”
Without waiting for an answer, I walk to the bathroom. I don’t have to look back to know she’s following me because I know she will. Stripping off my clothes, I step into the shower and feel her come in after me. When I turn, I find her fully clothed under the water as it rains down on both of us. The perks of having a large fucking shower.
“You should wear your heels tonight,” I tell her, reaching for the soap and handing it to her.
“They’re rented, I have to send them back tomorrow.” Sailor moves in closer and stands behind me. Her soft hands caress my back as she works the soap over my skin. Her hands are slow, precise, as if she wants to make sure she cleans me thoroughly. “What do you do during the day?”
“This is my holiday house. I come out here once every month or so to catch up on work and relax.”
“I wasn’t always like this, you know. If you’d met me before, you wouldn’t even recognize me.” A glance over my shoulder reveals a soft smile on her face.
“I still would have fucked you.”
She chuckles at my words while her hand slides down until it’s resting at the top of my ass where she pauses before she moves it lower. As she does, she drops the soap and it’s just her hands touching me, lingering on my skin.
I lick my teeth before I turn around and grab her ass, lifting her up and slamming her back into the wall. Sailor’s chest arches against me, whimpering when I lean in and kiss my way up to her neck. She lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist while reaching between us, pulling her soaked skirt up and moving her panties to the side. Running her hand through my hair, she pulls me closer to bite at my neck, clamping her teeth together with such force that she might draw blood. I feel her fingers trail down my chest before they grab my hard cock, inserting it right where she wants me with a gasp of relief.
She’s needy.
I like that.
Needy bitch for my cock.
I wonder if she wanted her husband’s cock as much as she wants mine because the way her pussy is milking my cock right now, I doubt it very much.
Needy little bitch.
Licking my lips, I pull her head back roughly by her wet hair so I can look at her. The hunger I see in her eyes is palpable as her hips grind away on my cock with no inhibitions. Her gaze doesn’t stray as choked moans slip past her lips onto mine. She wants to kiss me—I can feel it—but usually my fucks don’t kiss me, they kiss my cock and that’s it.
And I need to remember that’s what she is.
Just a fuck.
But I’m too slow to stop her.
That’s a lie.
I want to let her kiss me.
Because I know what her pussy tastes like, and if her lips taste just as divine, I’ll gladly take all that she’s offering.
My hands grip her tight ass as she moves up and down, riding my cock like a good girl against the wall. Then she sticks her tongue out and licks around my own before she presses her tempting lips to mine, demanding I kiss her back.
And I do, because why the fuck not?
She’s a nice little reprieve from my life right now. A distraction from what is to come. And what is already here at my doorstep.
“Little slut,” I say to her as she breaks the kiss, coming on my cock with a screaming moan. She likes dirty words. Maybe I should keep her as my little whore. To fuck whenever I want. But as I look into her eyes, her forehead coming to lean on mine, I know I can’t keep her.
She was never mine to have in the first place.
Tonight isn’t meant to include women. That won’t work, though, when I have one living here. By her choice or not. She would stay in her room if I told her to, of that I have no doubt, but what’s the point of having a toy if you can’t show her off?
Roberto wolf whistles, and I know she’s entered the room. I don’t even have to turn around to know it because I smell her the minute she stands close to me. I make no move to touch her because that’s not what we are.
Glancing down, those heels I love are on her feet.
Rented.
I didn’t even know that was a thing.
With the amount of money I gave her husband, she shouldn’t need rented shoes.
Just goes to prove what a dick he actually is.
“Am I the only woman here?” I can feel her breath tickle the back of my neck as she asks me.
“Yes. You might want to show a bit more of your tits if you want to stay.” I look between her tits to see her cleavage is indeed showing, but more would be better. Her eyes drop down as well, and she mumbles to me, “I think what I have on is fine.”
“Suit yourself.”
A bell is sounded, and everyone heads to the dining room. I place my hand on her lower back and start pushing her in that direction. We’ll drink, we’ll eat, then we’ll drink some more. I’m only allowing her to stay for the eating portion of the evening. After that, she will be told to go back to her room. “Best behavior.”
She doesn’t reply, just continues looking straight ahead, not acknowledging me.
“Or I’ll fucking spank you.”
Her lip twitches, and before I can even think about addressing it, Lucas is there in front of us, stopping her while I keep walking to the table.
Lucas.
Yep, Lucas is interesting. A part of the family as is every single person here. But Lucas is a little different, twisted, even more than usual, you might say.
We used to call him The Joker when we were kids, because of the way The Joker always did that lick of his lips with his fucked-up mouth. That’s what Lucas does.