Page 70 of Trigger Happy Ending

She sways towards us and drags her hand along the curve on the back of the lounge. Her hand lingers too long for my liking on Alex’s shoulder, and his eyes linger way too fucking long on her as she comes around to stand in front of us all.

Alex lights up when he sees her. The cunt doesn’t even try to hide it. A sharp pang cuts through me as Alex leans forward and offers her the silver straw. She doesn’t hesitate as she bends over. She bends over the table, the curve of her ass falling perfectly into Alex’s line of sight (which pisses me off) and pretends to take the line in one sweep. Anyone else would buy it. But I’m watching closely, and I catch her trick. She doesn’t inhale the cocaine at all. She pushes it back with her fingernail. Clever girl.

Alex’s hand finds the curve of her ass, and he squeezes it, causing her to squeal and laugh.

I tell myself it’s part of the job. Part of the cover. She’s here to entertain, to tease, to be nothing more, to play a role. I repeat it in my head over and over again. But it doesn’t settle the beast awakening inside though. I don’t like his hands on her.

“Take a seat, Angel,” Carson says, patting the velvet between us.

Raine sinks down beside me, crossing her legs so the dress rides even higher. Goddamn, it’s a diabolical outfit. Skintight, blood-red latex. This type of shit should be banned. In fact, I’m burning this outfit when we get back to the apartment. I will shove it in a trash bin and fucking light it on fire.

Her thigh brushes mine as she settles into the lounge, that sweet, buttery vanilla scent hitting me before I can brace for it.

It’s sweet enough to rot my fucking teeth.

“Angel, meet my associates,” Carson says lazily. “You already know Senator Wilson. This is Alex … and Lukas. Who you may also recognize.”

Her eyes make a slow circuit to the Senator, Alex, and finally me. Her tongue flicks out to wet her bottom lip. The lips I’ve been dreaming about ever since she laid them on me.

“Pleasure,” she purrs. Only to me.

Alex shifts forward and seems to want to say something but is interrupted with the arrival of the same flame-haired woman from earlier.

“Hi, boys. I’m Cherry.”

Ah. So this is the woman Raine has been spending her free time with. She’s also wearing an outfit designed to render men unconscious, a black lace slip dress. Doesn’t do anything for me, though. The red latex devil to my left has all of my attention.

Carson gestures for Cherry to sit between Alex and the Senator. A third woman enters, also wearing lingerie, her dark skin shimmering under the soft lights.

“And this is Imogen,” Carson introduces as he leans forward to sniff a line. “Ladies, show the boys why this place is the best.”

At his instruction, the music surges, swallowing the room in throbbing bass, and Angel moves before I can even brace myself. One second she’s beside Carson, the next she’s straddling me, knees on either side of my thighs, latex creaking.

I’m not prepared for what this does to me. My cock hardens instantly.

Her fingers slide into my hair, nails grazing my scalp, and I swear my skin tries to crawl toward her touch. The booming bass seeps through the velvet seat, syncing with the slow roll of her hips. Her leg presses firmer against mine, and I know—I fucking know—she feels what that does to me.

She turns her head slightly, close enough that her blonde wig brushes my shoulder. “Relax, baby,” she whispers.

My brain short-circuits. I curl my hands into fists and keep them by my sides, trying to be respectful. But I’m crawling out of my goddamn skin.

Her body moves like smoke, fluid, like she’s in water, every grind pressing herself against the hard length in my jeans. She takes my wrists in her grip and plants them on her thighs. Her emerald eyes burn into mine.

“Touch me, Lukas,” she whispers, deliberately using the alias.

She guides my hands up towards her inner thighs, thumbs brushing the lacy edge of her panties. Her breath catches, the first crack in her game of trickery. Our eyes lock, and everything fades away. Nothing matters, not even the mission. All of it evaporates as her fingers slide up her body, tracing her curves, riding me like she’s the devil’s favorite. I blink and remind myself over and over that this isn’t real; it’s all a charade, an orchestrated game of deception.

But my body doesn’t give a fuck what’s real and what isn’t. It wants her.

I want her.

I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

Her thighs grip tighter as she grinds slower, firmer. She looks down at me with those big, beautiful eyes. She’s a masterpiece in motion. My deadly psycho bitch from hell.

I drag my hands up her sides, over her ribs, until my thumbs graze the underswell of her breasts wrapped in red latex. She leans into my touch, wanting the feeling. Her lips graze my ear as I drift my hands back to her tight ass. “I can feel every … inch … of you.”

She grinds down harder, and I’m seconds from grabbing her by the waist and fucking her right here in front of these assholes.