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“Fuck, Stella, you can’t squeeze my cock like that,” he says through gritted teeth.
Completely lost in the feeling of him inside me, I mindlessly ask, “Why not?”
“Because it makes me want to tear this condom off and fuck you bare until your tight little cunt milks every last drop from me.”
“Oh, shit.” It’s at this exact moment that the tension coiling inside me snaps and liquid heat floods my system as my pussy pulses.
“Fucking hell,” Lochlan sputters. His hands squeeze my hips painfully tight as he holds me in place, coming hard. He takes a beat to catch his breath before pulling out with a softer curse. “Goddamn, Stella Mae.”
I push up onto my elbows, and he gently trails a palm down my spine. “Stay here.” He steps out of his jeans and, with a soft swat on my ass, walks to a row of cabinets in nothing but his boxers. My heart thumps heavy and sated in my chest, and I’m surprised there’s no immediate rush of regret.
He pulls out a gym bag and takes a small terry cloth towel. He throws it over his shoulder as he steps to a trash basket and removes his condom. He tucks himself into his boxers as he strides lazily back over to me.
His chest and face are splotched with red. His eyes seem weighty and tired but relaxed. He turns me around and lifts me back onto the desk. In comfortable silence, he holds my legs open and wipes between my thighs. His movements are tender and unhurried.
When he’s done, he tosses the towel back over his shoulder and looks up at me. The blue of his eyes looks extra vibrant in contrast to his rosy cheeks. He gives me a lazy smile, and I tilt my head in obvious assessment of him. He lifts his brow in question.
“Have you ever considered growing a mustache?”
1. Play “Devil in a Dress” by Rhea Raj
Chapter 1
Don’t Mess with Our Women
Lochlan
5 months later
The cold cement walls surround me.1 The only light is a single weak bulb hanging from the ceiling. My boots hit the ground. Each step fills the narrow, dark hallway with an ominous beat. The light sways slightly on a rusty chain, despite there being no wind down here, under layers of earth and concrete. Like a ghost playing with a pendulum.
The closer I get, the clearer the hunched figure shrouded in darkness becomes. My hand grips the slide on my Glock and racks it, the distinctive sound of clicking metal a preamble for what’s to come.
“Good afternoon, Antoine,” I say, stepping up to the man chained to a chair alone in this basement. I give his cheek a friendly tap with my gun, and he winces as if bracing for me to shoot him any second. “Oh no, no, no,” I tut. “It won’t be as easy as a bullet to the head.” I crouch down to look him in the eyes, keeping the loose smile on my face. “Now where would the fun in that be?”
He shudders, sweat dripping down his temple as he hangs his head and pleads, “Please. I promise I’ll get the money. I promise.”
“Ah.” I bounce back up and start pacing as if a brilliant idea just came to me. “Here’s the thing, Antoine. We are far past simple repayment. I don’t care about your debt. I want you indebted to us. Where you went wrong was thinking you could lay your hands on our women without consent or repercussions. You didn’t really think you could assault that dancer and threaten her to stay quiet, did you? That she wouldn’t come directly to us?” My tone is incredulous as I move behind him. His shoulders shake with unease as I step out of his sight.
Making someone tremble in your wake is a powerful feeling, but at this point, I expect it.
Out in the world, I’m all jokes and smiles, the charming jester. But down here, I’m judge, jury, and executioner, making grown men piss themselves.
I grab two chains hanging from the ceiling and attach each one to Antoine’s wrist shackles. I unfasten them from the chair then kick it out from under him. He stumbles back. I press a button right before he falls on his ass and the chains tighten, pulling his arms above his head.
Suspended from the ceiling, he groans as his shoulders tug painfully, holding all his weight as his feet lift off the ground. I roll a cart in front of him, the rusty old thing loud in the silence.
“Oh god, please,” he blubbers as his eyes scan the row of scalpels and knives on the top shelf, a large cooler on the bottom.
“Here’s the deal.” I trace my finger over one of the sharp blades. “You have an outstanding debt, and if I simply kill you for your transgressions, we will be left unpaid—”
“I’ll pay! I swear, I’ll pay!” he tries again, squealing like a pig.
“No, you won’t. I’ve seen your accounts and tsk, tsk, Antoine, you really ought to take better care of your finances.” I pick up a long and skinny knife and point it at him. “But don’t worry, we have other ways of collecting payments—”
He wails as I bury the blade into his stomach. The color drains from his face as his eyes widen like giant white orbs.
I start carving into his flesh, tearing open his shirt where the knife cuts it. I exhale, blowing my hair off my face, and use the back of my hand to wipe a splatter of blood dripping down my cheek. “I’m going to remove your kidneys and liver—you’ll probably have bled dry by then—but hey, at least your debt will be paid.”
