Chapter 9
NINE
LIAM
It’s only early evening when Maggie and I get to my condo, but I have to get changed before we go out. There’s a new club we want to check out, and it’ll definitely be more to my liking than the grunge bullshit of the last place I can’t even remember the name of.
I remember the name of the guy I’d killed, though.
Reid.
And as it turns out, not only did I fuck up in how sloppy I’d been, but I’d fucked up in my choice of targets.
How was I supposed to know he was related to a senator?
Still, there’s no sense in stressing about it. There’s next to nothing linking us together, and I’d cleaned up the best I could. There had been his finger inside of me, but beyond that, I’m pretty confident that I’ve done all I can.
Maybe I should’ve dipped his finger in bleach.
Hindsight, etc.
Maggie snaps her fingers in my face, and I jump.
“What the fuck was that for?” I demand.
“You weren’t paying attention,” she says, without an ounce of shame.
I grumble. “Busy thinking about how much dick I’m going to take tonight.” Since the murder apparently hadn’t been sensational enough to get Ryker’s attention, and I’m tired of being celibate. “Just don’t try to set me up with anyone. Your taste is shit.” I toss my keys onto the counter.
“My taste isn’t shit,” she says. “You’re just picky lately. What gives?”
I shrug. “Maybe I found standards. Anyway, I got some of that good vodka that you like so much. Help yourself. I need to change.”
I leave her at the kitchen counter and head into my room.
I flip on the lights with a small sigh, disgruntled and annoyed. Why hasn’t Ryker contacted me again? What do I have to do to get his attention?
It takes me a split second to register that someone’s sitting on my bed, and I almost scream.
Like I’ve summoned him into existence with my thoughts, I realize it’s Ryker.
He puts his finger up to his lip and smiles.
Fuck, he looks so good. His brown hair is disheveled. The top two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, revealing a hint of his chest hair. The jeans could be tighter, but I can still see a significant bulge.
His dark brown eyes are promising something I desperately want.
Because despite that smile, there’s the threat of violence there, and it makes me melt.
I start toward him in a slow saunter, only to remember that Maggie is in the other fucking room.
Shit.
I need to get rid of her.
I huff out an annoyed sound, holding my finger up in a “one minute” gesture, then turn back around to head into the living room.
Maggie is holding the bottle of vodka, examining it.
“Change of plans,” I tell her. “I already found someone who’s down for a good fuck.” I hold up my phone. “So shoo. You can get laid on your own.”
Maggie laughs and shakes her head. “No way. If I have to wait in line alone, I’m going to die of boredom. Or get accosted by some gross straight guy. Tell your fuckbuddy to meet us there.”
“Nooo,” I whine. “I don’t wanna. Call someone else to meet you there. You know you won’t have to wait in line for longer than like, five minutes, max. Just scroll on your phone, and magically, time will pass.”
Maggie ignores me and pours vodka into one of the shot glasses. “Sweetie, shut up and drink with me. Pre-drink with me.” She passes the glass to me, then fills up the other one. “Anyway, I need you there to play wingman. Rebecca said she’s going, and I need you to seduce her boyfriend away.”
“Ugh, you know I don’t do straight guys anymore. They get so weird,” I tell her. I drain the glass, making a face at the burn. It’s good vodka, but even so. “But nope. I told him to be here soon. I’ll walk you to the elevator, but you’re on your own tonight, babes.”
“What the hell?” Maggie scowls at me. “Don’t do straights anymore? Since when? I saw you and Jeremy last week. He’s straight. If his socials are to be believed, anyway. No gay dude would repost that many lady tits.”
Unless he’s hiding something, but I don’t want to encourage her by saying so.
“Since last week,” I say. “Jeremy was so bad, he convinced me to forgo all straight men. Besides, I’m growing as a person. All that therapy and everything.”
“Liam!” Maggie finishes her drink and sets the glass down on the kitchen counter, then she steps in closer and wraps her arms around my neck. “You can’t ditch me, Liam. Remember when I covered for you at your mom’s fundraiser last week? You owe me.”
“I owe you, yes,” I agree with her. “But not tonight. Tonight, a very large penis attached to an attractive man will be awaiting me, and with any luck, he’s going to pound me into next week.” I squeeze her back. “Come on, Mags. We’ll go together tomorrow.”
“Rebecca won’t be there tomorrow,” Maggie says with a pout. “She’s going to get laid too, and the dick will hypnotize her into thinking she’s straight, again.”
Probably because she is straight, and unlike many straight guys I encounter, she’s not willing to be flexible for an easy orgasm.
“She’ll be there the next time we go,” I say. “Now, come on.” I wriggle free of her arms and take a step back, offering my hand. “It’s time for you to shoo. Yes, yes, I owe you double now.”
Maggie lets out a long huff before grabbing the bottle of vodka. “I’m taking this as compensation,” she declares. “This better be the fucking hugest dick you’re ditching me for. At least Godzilla-sized.”
“If it’s Godzilla-sized, you’ll never hear from me again, because I will be dead,” I tell her, deadpan. “But hey, at least I’d go out with a bang. Go forth and get thyself laid.” I pull her in the direction of the door. I should walk her down, at the very least.
Nausea hits my stomach. What if Ryker leaves while I take Maggie down?
I can’t risk it. It’s been months since I’ve seen Ryker.
“I’ve got a ride waiting for us downstairs already,” Maggie says as we walk to the elevator. “Seriously, you can still come with me.”
“Maybe I’ll meet up with you later, if I’m not still going at it with the big dick,” I tell her. “I’ll text you.”
Maggie rolls her eyes at me, but she gets into the elevator and hits the button for the lobby. She flips me off as the doors close.
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
That could’ve gone worse.
I go back to my apartment, anticipation and a little bit of apprehension driving me. He’d been pissed last time about the toilet paper, and I’d done it again.
But how else was I supposed to get his attention?
I return to my bedroom, half-expecting to find it empty and that I’d imagined the whole thing.
Ryker is sitting casually against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t even look up when I enter the room.
“Oh, now you show up,” I complain. “I had plans tonight.”
Those plans had gone out the window the second I’d seen him, but he doesn’t have to know how desperate I am.
Scratch that. He already knows, and he’s fucking with me.
Well, two can play that game.
“I heard.” Ryker keeps browsing his phone. “Godzilla-sized cock. I don’t think I can live up to that.”
“Guess I should find someone else then,” I tell him. “I have high standards, I’ll have you know.”
Ryker shrugs and puts his phone away. He meets my eyes and says, “Like straight boy Jeremy?”
I shrug. “Okay, mistakes might’ve been made. But therapy!” I insist. “All the therapy has taught me not to settle, and I definitely shouldn’t settle now.” I saunter over to him. “Unless you think you can make it worth my time.”
Ryker sighs and gets off the bed. He crowds against me, and my heart hammers faster.
Before I can react, he wraps his hand around my neck and squeezes.
I moan, my dick throbbing as he constricts my breathing.
Maybe I shouldn’t get off on the same thing I do to others — I definitely don’t expect my victims to get turned on by it — but my body doesn’t seem to understand the irony.
Something to talk about with my nonexistent therapist, I guess.
“You wanted my attention,” Ryker growls. “You were a stupid fucking idiot for the attention. A senator’s relative, and another fucking calling card.”
He taps the inside of my calf, and I widen my stance for him despite how lightheaded I feel.
Ryker reaches down with his other hand and squeezes my cock. “You really only think with your dick.”
I let out a helpless, needy sound. Is he going to choke me out? Would I wake up to him being gone, or to him pounding me senseless like I so desperately want?
Well.
I don’t want to miss even a little of it, but the idea of him fucking me while I’m unconscious is hot, too.
I reach up, touching one of his hands, but I don’t try to claw at it or pull it away. Bliss floods me as the air stops reaching my lungs, and I’d waver on my feet if he didn’t have such a good grasp on my throat.
Ryker brings his lips closer to mine, his breath filling my mouth but not reaching my lungs.
“Fucking brat,” Ryker mutters before shoving me onto the bed.
He releases my neck, and I automatically inhale, gasping loudly for precious oxygen.
It’s almost a pity.
I’m almost disappointed.
“Gonna punish me, then?” I dare him, breathless and hoping he grabs me again.
I’d give anything for him to shove me onto the bed and fuck me senseless.
“Strip,” Ryker orders gruffly. “Don’t give me a show. Just get naked.”
I can’t tell if he’s turned on or pissed off, but I don’t care. I quickly strip down, tossing my clothes to the floor in a heap. My cock is already erect, my entire body flushed from the heat of being around him.
Fuck, why had he waited so long? Why had I waited so long to kill again, if this is what I’ve been missing?
I glance at his crotch, but the jeans give me nothing. Is he half-hard, at least? Are his balls getting tight with arousal?
“You did a collaboration with that godawful podcast,” Ryker says. “Did you send them the photos? Were you that much of an idiot?”
I shake my head. “No. They had to have been leaked from somewhere else.”
I don’t tell him that I did take photos, for all that I hadn’t sent them to anyone.