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I’d swallow you down. Every fucking inch. And I wouldn’t spill a drop.
That did it for me. My eyes squeezed shut as I came all over my hand. I was somewhat aware that I was making a mess, but all I could see in my head was what Sienna would look like with her lips stretched around the base of my cock as I pumped my load into her.
My body went limp, my breathing ragged. Only the signaling of an incoming message made me force my eyes open again.
Two pictures. One of her hand squeezed between her thighs, which I knew meant she’d come. The other was of her, with two of her fingers in her mouth. I groaned and my cock twitched, wanting to harden again at that sight. Instead, I took a picture of my spent cock in a pool of cum.
Then another message.
That was fun. I gotta get back to work now.
I smiled as I sent back, me too.
It was another minute before I had the energy to get off the couch and clean myself up. Fortunately, I had at least kept my cum off the furniture.
I’d just returned to sit in front of my laptop when a phone call came through. Seeing Gavin’s name on the screen brought a flash of guilt, but I reminded myself that Sienna was an adult who could do what she wanted, and then I answered the phone.
“Hey, Gavin.”
“You will not believe what just happened to me.” He sounded furious. “I got swatted.”
“Fuck.” All the good I’d felt from my exchange with Sienna disappeared under worry. “Is everyone okay?”
“No one was hurt, but the kids and Carrie are all rattled.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for them. The idea of having SWAT officers bursting into my home, thinking I was someone dangerous, was frightening on its own. I couldn’t think of how I’d react if I had a family, and that happened. “Do they know who did it?”
“No, but I don’t think it’s random,” Gavin said. “Did you hear about the lighting rig falling?”
“Yeah.” Knowing he wouldn’t want to know any of the details about that, I gave him something else. “My offices were vandalized on Thursday.”
Gavin was silent for a moment. “I think we both should start looking into this stuff.”
I agreed. I almost suggested we go to the cops with it, but I knew I couldn’t make that decision for Gavin. I’d involved the authorities in what’d happened with me, but the rest of it was his to decide about. His business, his family. If he asked my opinion, I’d give it, but I’d keep my mouth shut otherwise.
A part of me hoped it was just a run of bad luck, but the sick feeling in my gut said that this was just the beginning.
And that things were going to get worse before they got better.
Dammit.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sienna
I didn’t know why, but it always seemed like the club patrons got rowdier when a holiday loomed on the horizon, as if they were still in school and couldn’t wait for the break. Maybe it was because we were always closed on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day, leaving people feeling like they needed to expel all their pent-up energy before those three days of absence. Whatever the reason, these two days leading up to Thanksgiving would not be any better, which was why I was sprawled in bed, staring at my ceiling, even though I was well past the time I usually got up for work.
I wondered if Fury would stop by the club tonight, and that thought finally propelled me into action. Not that I was thrilled to rush to work hoping to see him; rather, I was desperate to stop obsessing over him. After our unexpected sexting session on Saturday, we’d exchanged a few messages, but they’d been limited to mundane small talk. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that; it had a relationship vibe that made me uneasy, yet I enjoyed our conversations enough not to dwell on it. I decided to roll with it, do my thing, and see where it led.
Right now, ‘my thing’ meant tackling the mountain of dirty dishes that had accumulated in my sink since Sunday. I was wrist-deep in soapy water, cursing the stubborn pan I’d used to make macaroni and cheese the day before—one I’d forgotten to soak overnight—when a loud knock echoed through my apartment, jolting me from my thoughts.
No, it wasn’t just a knock. It was a frantic pounding, the kind someone would do if they were in dire trouble and desperately needed help.
“Shit.” I grabbed a towel, drying my hands as I hurried to the door. Peeking through the peephole, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a face, but when I heard a female voice call my name, I quickly undid the locks and flung the door open.
The woman who stumbled inside was around my age, with shoulder-length ebony waves and striking coal-black eyes. At six feet tall and slender, with stunning dark skin, Lulu Parr always struck me as the type who should’ve been modeling instead of turning tricks.
Except now, she couldn’t have modeled for anything. She looked like she’d been beaten to a pulp. Her face was swollen, one eye completely shut and the other barely open. Her nose appeared broken, and I spotted a patch where a chunk of her hair had been yanked out. Her bottom lip was split, revealing at least one chipped tooth as she breathed through her mouth. Despite the chill in the air, she wore nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top, which showcased the bruises already forming on her limbs. The way she clutched her side suggested she probably had bruised and cracked ribs, if not broken ones, and possibly internal injuries.
