Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
BELLATRIX
“Fuck,” he hissed, clenching his stomach muscles and pulling away until the tip of his cock was resting on my tongue, the little piece of jewelry on top clinking against the roof of my mouth whenever he flexed it.
Guess he found the time to get a new one when he wasn’t too busy catching bullets and popping back up like some creature out of a Romero movie.
Fucker just needed to learn to stay fucking dead.
I tried to turn my face, and he grabbed on to my chin and forced himself down my throat again, his free hand still clamped on to my nose.
I closed my eyes to keep them from watering, the taste of salt and soap and metal replacing the fruity flavor of my sugar-free chewing gum.
Which I’d either lost or swallowed when I’d been flipped onto my back.
Let’s hope it was that first one. ?Cause I was gonna get an earful if that shit got smushed into the floor. The only thing Vee hated more than trying to scrub bloodstains out of carpet was trying to peel off a piece of chewing gum.
I sucked in a breath, slowly letting it escape around the width of him when he slammed forward.
Balls to chin. Twice more. He was trying to make it last. Coming wasn’t the goal; it was just one of the benefits of him proving he was the one in control.
That he could show up at any moment and do what he wanted.
Each time he pulled back, I took another breath and held it.
Let the air out too fast and your brain started to panic.
And panic had you switching into survival mode instead of relying on everything you’d learned.
Had you thinking you were dying, and thinking you were dying was the first step to letting someone kill you.
Desperate people did stupid shit and there was nothing that had you more desperate than the fear of dying.
This wasn’t about death, though. If you really wanted someone dead, you whipped out a gun.
You didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
And you didn’t wave your dick around like a victory flag.
It was something men were constantly trying to hold over us.
Or, in this case, above me. The fact they carried a bit of extra weight in their pants.
What the fucker didn’t realize was that, that little piece of extra meat left you vulnerable.
His bruised neck exposed and his ass clenched tighter than a New England clam shell.
Shove a stray finger up there and I had no doubt he’d be squealing.
That was my usual go-to. A little shit under my nails was worth all the high-pitched sounds they made, watching them flop around on the floor like a fish.
It was a good lesson on why foreplay shouldn’t be optional.
I would have done that here if I weren’t so sure the fucker would get off on it as much as he got off on me choking him.
That was why I had Gabby sitting in the wings with a blow dart and enough sedative to take out someone twice his size.
She waited until he was at the point of coming, where men always made a face that resembled a rabbit getting its leg caught in a snare.
Eyes wide, nostrils flared, cloth mask fluttering with the sharp intake of breath, head thrown back before hitting the fucker square in the neck.
His hand immediately shot up to grab it. Then he grinned and toppled to the side. His erect dick popping out of my mouth and plopping against his thigh.
I wiped the drool off my chin and jumped to my feet, kicking at his leg with the tip of a shoe.
I knew it was only a matter of time before the fucker showed up here. I just expected him to be a little less bull in a china shop and a little more trained assassin about it.
“Three,” he whispered before going deathly still. He wasn’t dead this time either, though. At least I didn’t think so. Gabby was the only one who could tell us for sure. Like I said, drugs and poisons were her specialty, not mine.
Vee stepped out from around a corner, her arms crossed and the front of her shoe tapping against the carpet. She didn’t need to do that to tell us she was getting impatient. Her face did that for her.
I could also feel her side-eyeing me. She glanced from Gabby, back in my direction. “I’m assuming there’s a good reason you two took so long to knock him out?”
Gabby shrugged. “They’ve been fucking for weeks. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
I shot Gabby a nasty glare that probably matched the one Vee was shooting me right now and opened my mouth to argue or lie.
Vee waved a hand to stop me, probably because she knew I was gonna argue or lie and she wasn’t in the mood to hear either. “I don’t wanna know.” She jutted her chin towards the floor. “Just get him up.”
I grabbed one arm, mumbling under my breath as Gabby grabbed the other. Then we slowly dragged him out of the hallway into the closest empty office.
A few minutes later, we had him propped up on a rolling chair, his arms secured behind his back and his legs duct-taped together at the ankle.
“How long before he wakes up?” Vee asked.
Gabby shrugged. “Depends on his tolerance. Propofol is short-acting, should only last about ten to fifteen minutes unless readministered.”
“And if we need to readminister?” Vee cocked a curious brow, and Gabby pulled a syringe out of her pocket, flicking it a few times with a red-tipped nail.
“Just give me the word.”
“Not yet,” Vee hummed, her shoe tapping again without her seeming to realize it. “I wanna hear what he has to say first.”