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Malone’s in his element. His angelic good looks are in stark contrast to the jaded, deadly expression on his face, the film of sleaze who’s completely at home in here.
A man who’d kill, fuck a girl in front of a body because he gets off on death and violence, then come up with an excuse for murdering the guy, calling him a pervert.
None of that changes the fact that Malone dragged me right down into his own perverted depths, which I let him do way too willingly.
I swallow hard. And if I came during sex, what the hell does that make me?
Dirty.
Sick.
Twisted.
I can never be scrubbed clean of that.
“Stop thinking about what happened and fucking smile,” Malone says, wrapping a hand in my hair and pulling my head up so he can capture my shocked gaze.
Of course he knows what’s going on in my head.
The green of his eyes glitter as he looks down at my mouth. Then he kisses me hungrily. It’s a total mauling, this kiss. And I let myself get mouth fucked by him in front of everyone in here.
It’s like there’s a switch inside of me only this man has access to. When he flicks it, I light up, a blaze of need. If he asked, commanded me, I’d probably go down on my knees and blow him, right here in the open.
When he lifts his head, I swear he’s staring into my soul. He grins like he just won all the prizes at the fair. “Good girl, and if you keep it up, I’ll reward you later. And maybe I won’t let all the men in here fuck you senseless.”
My head is in freefall as he presses a drink into my hand and he makes the rounds, shooting the shit as Lacey says, usually with a sneer on his gorgeous face.
I’m about to categorize Malone as one of those men who loves the sound of their own voices when I realize something.
Two things, actually.
The first? Malone doesn’t actually talk that much. He can, and when he does, it’s liquid gold, but he chooses his moments. And he’s so good at it that I never noticed until now, because he ordered me to observe.
The second? He both fits in and doesn’t.
He looks the part, but there’s something that sets him apart. I don’t know what it is, because he’s exactly what he says he is, but I keep getting the feeling there’s more hidden behind the façade he wears in situations like this.
Malone pulls me close and bites my neck. A draft of air hits my skin when he lifts my skirt to palm my ass. Then he slips his fingers between my cheeks, and I have to swallow the moan, tamping down the mix of heat and discomfort that flood me. Heat because there’s something about him exposing me that’s a turn-on.
And there’s the sickest part. I shouldn’t be feeling hot and bothered after that.
But I do.
He kisses his way up to my ear and the boozy, leather of him coils around me. I rub a thigh up against him.
Malone laughs. “You want to be fucked, Red? See anything interesting? If you do, tell me when we leave, or you can get all up in my face and rub that fine cunt on me while you talk.”
He’s such an ass.
I’m not that much better.
The night goes on and he joins the poker table. Now that I’m used to him, watching him along with everyone else, and I can see how exceptionally good he is at drawing information from people without them noticing.
I don’t know exactly what he’s looking for, but as I gaze around the place, I see someone I recognize, and the bite of Malone’s fingers as he pulls me onto his lap tells me he noticed. But he doesn’t ask me a damn thing.
The man in the corner doesn’t know me, but I know who he is. I once dropped by the shipping offices with some cupcakes for Dad and Grant, and that man had been there, talking with my uncle in his office.
Dad had taken the Tupperware from me and ushered me out because he had a busy day. It seemed true enough. There were trucks lined up outside for the cross-dock deliveries and the other shipments heading to final destinations. Their receptionist had been snapping at someone on the phone, so I left.
