Chapter 28
Donavan
I lose count of how many times I dart my eyes to the rearview mirror on my way back to the house.
Dumping a body isn’t a new thing for me, but doing it on American soil is different.
In Mexico and South America, there’s always a chance to persuade the cops or even witnesses to keep their mouths shut and turn a blind eye.
Here, in America, everyone has this sense of right and wrong that’s so fucked and skewed that the chances of a witness not reporting a body are slim.
If anything, they’d do it just so they could later point out how much of a hero they are on social media because God knows it didn’t happen if you don’t speak about it.
No one is following me, but I still circle town twice, taking different routes to make sure.
I should probably go home. Nash and Ayla know where Alani is, and she has her phone if she needs to call someone, but I just can’t fucking stay away.
The front door is still locked with the deadbolt, so I know she’s either inside or left through the back door which is unlikely. I don’t find her in the main bedroom or en suite, but the scent of bleach carries me down the hall to the other room.
I’m not prepared for what I see—Alani on her fucking knees, scrubbing at the floor. It’s a kind gesture, but my own OCD tendencies won’t keep me from doing it a second time.
That’s not what has my attention.
She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, her ass up in the air, the slightest hint of puffy fucking pink lips between her legs. My cock thickens. My mouth waters.
“You could help,” she says, but I find it impossible to move or pull my eyes from her naked ass.
I move my gaze further up, the shirt hanging low and making her tits visible. Jesus, she’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve seen.
She’s looking over her shoulder at me, and despite her not having a look of need in her eyes, I’m still turned on.
I growl when I see her hair hanging dangerously close to the floor, the threat of contamination to it extremely likely.
Her legs widen a little further.
Her chuckle makes me snap my eyes back to her face.
I can tell by the gleam in her eyes that she thinks she’s controlling me in some sort of way. Maybe she is, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like or accept it.
I’m cognizant enough of my choices to know she has some form of power over me. I’ve gone to her how many times?
I’ve been the one to seek her out. She has no means of contacting me. She could possibly try to go through Angel or his wife Lauren, but I haven’t had messages delivered. I’ve been the active one in making contact, not her.
I spend a moment longer just staring at my obsession, knowing that taking it any further than I have already will only lead to her demise.
Still, I can’t seem to walk away from her.
I’ve tried. Over and over I’ve walked away, and I can’t recall a single extended moment where she wasn’t on my mind, where I wasn’t thinking of fucking her or worried she’d put herself in danger.
What I thought would fade and disappear has only gotten stronger as the months have passed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snap, knowing the question encompasses so many things.
Alani drops the pink-stained sponge into the bucket of water before turning to face me and sitting back on her calves.
Her position is dangerous, subservient, and the sight of it hits me in the gut.
It doesn’t seem intentional. I don’t get the feeling that she’s doing it to turn me on, but that doesn’t stop it from happening.
A puff of air leaves her lips, and I realize she looks fucking tired. She was quick to fall asleep on the floor while I showered, but it doesn’t look like she tried to lie back down after she finished her own.
She blows a lock of hair from her eyes. When it doesn’t move enough, she swipes at it, tucking it behind her ear. She leaves a crimson mark on her cheek, and the sight of it staining her skin makes me sick to my stomach.
I take two steps closer to her, but she holds her hand up in front of her, stopping me in my tracks.
“No,” she says. “I know what you want, but it has to wait until this shit is cleaned up.”
Ignoring her, I move closer, but the second I get in close enough to touch her, she slaps a bleach water-soaked sponge into my hands with a look in her eyes that tells me she means fucking business.
With the point of her finger across the room, she says, “You start on the wall over there. How in the hell did you get blood that goddamned far away?”
“I got a little carried away before you woke up,” I answer, unconcerned that she asked a question and I immediately chose to respond. “You don’t seem upset.”
“That a piece of shit is dead? I’m not, but the cleanup is less than desirable.”
“I normally don’t have to clean up,” I say and watch her face while delivering the news.
She tilts her head to the side, analyzing my words rather than being disgusted by them.
“Usually I’m in their house and I don’t even bother to move the body, but I can’t really do that here in the States.”
She points again. “Clean while you talk.”
I chew the inside of my lip to keep from smiling at her, but then she rises from her kneeling position and that sweet ass goes right back into the air.
We work for well over an hour, emptying the bucket of water several more times until we’re done. I know this room wouldn’t pass any forensic tests, but to the naked eye, it appears clean.
“Now,” she says, dropping her sponge into the water for the last time. “Now, you can go all caveman on me if you want to.”
I walk closer, dropping my own sponge into the water. With each step, I attempt to get better control of myself, if anything as a challenge because I’m not exactly comfortable with the way she’s able to control parts of me.
I fail, miserably.
She squeals when I lift her up under her arms, her legs immediately going around my waist. Her lips are close enough to kiss, but she doesn’t press the issue like she tried that first night.
Jesus, have I really never kissed this girl?
Just the thought of it makes my heart kick up behind my ribs.
I’m not supposed to get lost at the sight of her lips.
They aren’t supposed to affect me the way they do.
I catch myself smiling when she does, my lips mimicking hers, but I get a handle on it as quickly as possible. I realize when she tries to fake a scowl that I didn’t hide it quick enough.
“I caught you,” she taunts, not letting it go like I hoped she would. “Are you afraid it will make you seem human?”
I don’t answer her. It’s hard enough not to stop and hang her nearly upside down on the back of the couch because I can feel the slick heat of her pussy right against my erection.
The urge to get her clean is stronger. I loved seeing her with the knife in her hand last night, but the sight of his blood on her makes me livid. I prevented him from hurting her, and I don’t want his blood tainting her skin. She deserves better.
I pause at the bedside table, pulling my phone and wallet from my pockets.
Instead of pulling my clothes off, I walk us straight into the shower, relishing in the squeal that erupts from her lips at the first splash of cold water.
Our clothes are ruined and will have to be burned like the set I was wearing last night.
She keeps her legs wrapped around my waist but allows me to pull the soaked t-shirt over her head.
My mouth wraps around her nipple the second it’s available.
She moans, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I should put an end to it. I shouldn’t allow her to have free rein at touching my body.
Hell, by this point, she should know I don’t want it, but I find myself leaning into her touch rather than pulling away from it.
I pull her hips from my body, giving her wandering hands room to work open the button on my jeans.
The rasp of the zipper echoes in the small shower, and for the briefest of moments while I’m struggling to push my wet jeans far enough down my legs to free my cock, I regret not getting undressed before stepping in here with her.
Her mouth hangs open when I press inside of her, her head angled down, her forehead resting on my pectoral as she watches my hips move, my cock sliding in and out of her.
It’s fucking bliss, utter perfection. It may not be fair to the women that came before her, but I’ve never felt anything better.
I grip one breast in my hand, holding it up before feeding it into my mouth. She likes it when I suck but likes it even more when I nip and bite at her skin.
“God,” she moans. “Love getting fucked by you.”
“You’ve got a greedy cunt,” I manage, the threat of getting fully lost in her a very real possibility.
“You know just how to take care of it,” she says just as her eyes float closed.
I press her back to the wall, placing my hands directly under her ass, and fuck into her.
Over and over, I stab into her and pull back out to the head.
Each glide of her down my cock is better than the one before it.
If infinite stamina were a thing, I could fuck this woman nonstop.
I’d starve if I had to choose between the two.
“Gonna come,” she moans, her teeth digging into my muscle.
I fuck her through her orgasm, having enough wherewithal to hold off my own until hers is over. Then I pull free and splash ropes of cum on her stomach. I watch as my cock jerks again at the sight of it sliding back down between her legs.