15. CHAPTER 15
KIARA
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
It’s got to be well after one in the morning by now, and he’s been playing old episodes of Game of Thrones for the past five hours, hearing the Starks declare that winter is coming. But shit, at least something is coming around here, because God knows I’m not.
In total, I think I’ve been in here for at least seven hours.
SEVEN FUCKING HOURS? And that’s after having to watch as the most gloriously hung man on the planet worked his cock like a fucking magician.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been witness to more than my fair share of men jerking off, some welcome, others not so much, but nothing could ever compare to what I just saw.
It was rapturous, breathtaking beyond belief.
The way he worked his fists up and down that thick cock, and shit, from the angle I was taking it in . . . Fuck me. I got it all, and if I weren’t so gobsmacked by the sight, I would have raced in there at the very last moment just to capture a face shot.
Is that too much? Yeah, it’s too much. But I’ve said it now, and there’s no take-backs. I might as well own it.
I, Kiara St. James, have been frothing at the mouth in this cardboard box for seven straight hours, desperately wishing that one day, I might be so lucky to receive nothing less than a cum shot right to the face by none other than Raiden Kane.
Okay. It’s official. I’m a whore for this man. A greedy, desperate whore with absolutely no shame, but I’ll die before I ever let him know it.
Hearing his soft, repetitive breaths, I decide he’s finally been asleep long enough for me to sneak out of this cramped box. I don’t waste a single moment, pressing my hands up against the folded tabs and slowly pushing them open.
With freedom only a breath away, I get to my feet and carefully climb out of the box before dropping straight to the ground to crawl my ass out of here.
Only as my knees hit the floor, I see a full take-out container resting on the ground directly beside the box with a handwritten note scrawled on top.
In case you got hungry working up a sweat while watching me jerk off.
Bet you got wet all up in your tight little box.
Well shit.
He knew I was there the whole damn time. I bet he came out of the shower and figured it out straight away, that big asshole.
Frustration burns bright as it pulses through my veins, feeling as though no matter what I do, I’m always falling five steps behind this guy. It’s as though he can anticipate every move I make. And if he truly were some kind of mastermind assassin, I suppose that wouldn’t be so hard to believe.
Letting out a huff, I get to my feet. There’s no point trying to hide now, and as I turn to take him in, fast asleep on his bed, I can’t help but consider just how easy it would be to strangle him.
I could just take his pillow and press it against his face.
It would be simple. Clean. I wouldn’t even get blood on my outfit, and then all of my major problems would be dealt with.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” he mumbles, his tone thick with sleep and making my eyes widen with fear, that same racing panic returning tenfold. “Either climb in here and let me fuck you until we’re both utterly spent, or take your tight ass to bed.”
My hands ball into fists, my jaw clenched as the overwhelming need to throw myself at him and lose any sense of control threatens to consume me, but I manage to hold on to some semblance of control, grab the take-out container from the floor, and march across his bedroom, opening the window as wide and as loudly as I can before stomping out onto the fire escape and leaving the window open behind me.
Asshole. Asshole. Asshole.
How does he manage to get me this worked up every single time? He barely even has to breathe, and I turn into a raging mess. I’m supposed to be a highly trained weapon, yet around Raiden Kane, I’m a boy-crazy girl desperate for his attention.
Fuck me.
What am I going to do? Hell, there is nothing I can do. Actually, I take that back. There is one particular thing I can do. It’s not a long-term fix, but it’ll sure help me feel better tonight.
And with that resolve, I climb back through my bedroom window, take my ass through to the kitchen, dive through the massive purple gift box, and take hold of not only the most powerful vibrator it has, but the huge dragon dildo as well.
Then with everything I need, I take myself to bed, hoping like fuck this is enough to help me scratch the itch that Raiden Kane and his massive, veiny cock have left behind.
And this time, when he hears me through the wall, I hope he suffers the same way I have, knowing that no matter what, he can’t touch this. Not anymore.
My phone chimes from somewhere in my apartment, and my eyes spring open to a brand-new morning. Judging by the dull light shining through my window, it’s early. Really fucking early. I grab my pillow and pull it down over my face before a loud groan tears from the back of my throat.
It’s too early to be awake.
I’m definitely not a morning person, but I’m also not somebody who is capable of going back to sleep after being woken. It’s a real issue that I’ve been trying to work through for the better part of twenty-four years.
My phone chimes again, reminding me that I haven’t checked my notifications, and after letting out another rumbling groan, I throw my blanket back and laugh to myself as the new vibrator— that got one hell of a workout last night—gets caught in the blankets and flies across the room, crashing into the wall right about where Raiden’s head would be on the opposite side.
I can practically hear him jumping out of bed, which only has my smirk stretching wider as I plant my feet on the floor and stand up. If I have to be awake, then I suppose he can be awake too.
Feeling all too proud of myself, I make my way out to my kitchen, searching high and low for wherever I stashed my phone before I decided to spend my night in a box.
After twenty minutes of heavy searching, I finally find it squished between the cushions of my couch, right where I was sitting during my formal investigation of the ghost otherwise known as Raiden Kane.
After unlocking my phone, I find a new text from Louis, and I let out a heavy sigh. Did this fucker really get me out of bed just to send me some bullshit threat? I was hoping it was a new contract.
Blowing out my cheeks, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I open the text before immediately rolling my eyes.
Louis: I know who you are, Kiara St. James. I will find you.
“Ugh. Moron.”
I laugh to myself. He might know my name, might know that I have a travel blog, but he’s got no damn clue who I am or what he’ll be messing with if he attempts to come for me.
But I hope he does. At least that way I can take him out on my own terms. It’ll be a shame, though.
I’d love to get paid for ridding the world of such a vile man.
Glancing at the time, I realize it’s only a little after five in the morning, and I groan again before flopping straight down onto my couch.
What the hell am I supposed to do with myself at five in the morning?
I could always break out the Lycra and put on another 80s morning aerobics class. I’m sure Raiden would love that.
Orrrrrrr . . . I could do some proper training.
Damn it. I hate when real life comes along with a big pin to pop the delusional little bubble I’ve been living in.
Training is imperative in my line of work.
I must always be prepared and ready for anything that could come along, whether that be a shoot-out or a physical fight. I need to be a master at every craft.
Fuck my life.
I peel myself back off the couch and head into my bedroom, finding a pair of bike shorts with a matching crop before tracking down my running shoes and getting my ass ready for my morning.
With the Barcelona contract complete, I now have nothing but time to work on my training until my next contract comes along.
I’m thinking after my run, I’ll stop in the park for a quick yoga or Pilates session.
By the time I’m finished there, I’ll be dying for breakfast, then I can head down to my private martial arts studio I had built into my warehouse.
I’ll probably wrap the day up at the shooting range for fun.
I’ve always been a great shot, but no matter how precise I am with my skills, I’m a firm believer that there’s always room for improvement.
Grabbing my AirPods, phone, and keys, I make my way to the front door. Unbolting the locks in a hurry, I curl my fingers around the handle and yank the door open, only to crash right into Raiden’s stupid chest.
“What the—”
I let out a huff as he stands in my doorway, leaning against the frame as though he couldn’t possibly have anything better to do at this time of the morning, a wide, knowing smirk stretched across his lips.
It’s too early for this shit.
I stand a step back, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring up at the bane of my existence. “What do you want?”
“I’ve just come to check on you, Firecracker,” he says as innocently as ever. “Heard some banging around and figured I’d make sure you were okay. You know, doing the neighborly thing.”
My gaze narrows. “The only thing you know how to check on is your dick. Though with your head so far up your own ass, it’s a miracle you can even find it. After all, you’re the reason instructions come with pictures.”
“Fuck, baby. You know I love it when you talk to me with that feisty little mouth,” he says, his gaze roaming over my body, taking in the way my tits are squished into my workout crop. “Tell me, how was your night? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Hmm. Strange. Because I certainly heard you,” I say. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but at one point I could have sworn I heard you screaming my name.”