“Don’t you fucking dare!” He’s struggling against his bindings, the rope cutting into his skin. “Clarissa is an angel.”
“How so if she’s toying with your emotions?”
“She’s too innocent and pure to realize I’ve been—”
“Planning to kill her husband, kidnap her, and then force her into a relationship while you gain access to their millions?” Silence. Utter silence. Malcolm asked me to dig and I did, finding out more than they expected. This runs deeper than a simple infatuation. “Or does the name Jorge Wendell ring a bell?”
Kyle’s head snaps in my direction. “What does my business partner have to do with this, Javier?”
“Why don’t you explain, Douglass? Tell him what Wendell’s secretary told me for a few thousand dollars.”
“She wouldn’t.” His voice wavers.
“She did.” Carmelo steps forward then. He hands Malcolm the two files I gathered in the two hours before arriving here. “Cindy was more than willing to fax me what I needed, too.”
“No!”
“What the fuck is going on?” Kyle growls out, storming toward Douglass and fisting his hair. He pulls the dark blond strands hard, forcing the guard’s head back while staring at me. “Tell me.”
Malcolm slides the folder over; it’s open and the top page shows the forged signatures on paperwork, making it seem Mrs. Bennett is unstable and needs a guardian. That Kyle was putting Wendell in charge of everything if anything happened to him.
“The plan was to kill you via robbery gone wrong.” The disdain in my voice is noticeable. I take offense to shitty criminals playing the bullshit badass role. “With you out of the picture and then the filing of this paperwork, Clarissa would’ve been under their thumb. Wendell gets the company and other business ventures/assets, while Douglass gets your wife and a 50/50 split of the money. The sick fuck is obsessed with her, and more so, after being ignored. Isn’t that right?”
“Fuck you!”
Kyle turns his head up to the ceiling and takes in a deep breath. He holds it for ten seconds, his hands clenching twice before his right hand pulls a gun from the back of his pants.
We don’t stop him. We don’t even draw our weapons.
Instead, we watch silently as he bends and puts his mouth near Douglass’s ear. Kyle whispers something to him; it’s too low for anyone to hear, but the guard becomes enraged just long enough for Bennett to pull the trigger and his body to go limp.
A bullet in each eye and brain matter scatters behind the body on the pristine floor.
“We’ll be leaving tonight on an extended holiday,” Kyle says, not looking at us but watching every drop of blood seep from the bullet wounds, a small smile on his face. “Do you need anything from us?”
“No. You’re set.” Malcolm gives me a nod, and I text the cleanup crew to come and eradicate all traces of this meeting. “Have a good vacation, and please send my regards to Clarissa.”
“Thank you both.” With that, he walks out and we stand, heading back downstairs toward Carmelo’s car while the Bennett’s prepare for their departure.
It’s near nine at night by the time I make it home, and the front door hasn’t fully closed before my jacket is tossed aside and my tie pulled off. I’m shrugging everything off, leaving the piles for tomorrow, while heading toward my bathroom.
I’m in need of a quick shower. A release before ending my night with a little taste and tease.
The lights flick on as I enter the large, all-white bathroom with an oversized shower that extends from one wall to the opposite. Its large subway tiles in marble cover almost every inch, from wet areas to the dry with hardware in gold to compliment the stone.
Turning the handle toward the hot water, I step back and remove my boxer briefs before stepping inside. It’s been a long day; from meetings and training for Malcolm’s guards to Mariah’s haughty, cold shoulder.
One I returned. Then, I sat back and watched the fight to ignore me become the search for any reason to get closer. No matter where I turned, she was in my line of sight or near enough to touch.
Hair up in a messy bun.
Glasses perched on the end of her nose while biting a pen.
Giggling at something.
The coquettish minx made sure to punish me, but I held back. My not giving in caused her frustration and a few muttered curses thrown my way, but it’ll be worth it soon enough.
Heat fills the room, and I step beneath the waterfall showerhead. The hot water slides down my limbs and hard cock, caressing my skin and causing a shiver to rush down my spine.
I grab my bodywash and loofah on the small alcove to my right, pouring a large drop in to the sponge before rubbing it across my chest. The suds glide lower and over my pelvis before they kiss my balls.
I’m throbbing. In pain. My hand fisting over the tight skin, knuckles strained white, before pumping once. Then again. Just knowing that she’s a few floors from me...
“Fuck,” I hiss out, my strokes becoming rougher with each twist down and then up. My eyes close and I throw my head back, picturing her sultry eyes and sinful smirk before leaving for the day. Mariah was bent over her desk while looking for something, giving me the perfect view of her ass and hips while talking on the phone, ignoring my presence. “Delicious little beauty.”
Her skirt was mid-thigh and tight with no visible panty line, and instead, I got a peek of the soft skin between her thighs through the small slit with a pleat at the back. Perfect and round, and my mouth waters as I remember how the fabric moved with her, rising a little higher on her thighs until I groaned.
A little more, and I’d see the round cheeks I want to bite. Smack. Smear my come across.
Heat licks at my balls and with each pump of my hips, the pleasure increases, and more so when Mariah’s evil grin flashes behind closed lids. She’d turned around to face me then, back slightly arched and with a hand on her hip.
“Need something, Mr. Lucas?” Tone breathy, she looks at me from head to toe, pausing a bit at the thick bulge in my pants. My suit jacket’s over the back of my office chair and I’m not hiding her effect on me. Fuck that—she caused it and I want her to see.
To hunger for it.
For her plump little mouth to water.
“Do you?” I counter, my voice husky. Deeper. “Need help?”
“I have fingers for that. No help needed.”
“But sometimes a little assistance makes the task sweeter. Dirtier.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” She licks her lips and my cock jerks, a bead or two of liquid rolling down the tip. “Is using your hands something you do a lot?”
“I’m going to make you pay for that,” I grunt low, tightening my grip before swiping my thumb across the sensitive head. Christ, that feels good and I pinch the tip, the sudden jolt of pain giving me another minute or two. My hips don’t stop pumping, fucking my fist while imagining it’s her tight cunt and the slap of skin is my hips slamming into parted thighs. “Slowly break you down until my cock is all you know.”
“Do you think of me when you do?”
“Son of a bitch.” That memory of her words—the look in her eye when whispering—brings me over the edge. My palm slams against the wall, holding myself up while come shoots from the tip, dribbling down the wall and to the drain below.