Chapter 17 Ronan #2
He muttered something under his breath, then said, louder, “You don’t get to say no. You’re here, and I have money and a dick that needs serviced.”
I pushed off the wall and moved, slipping into the space beside him. “Hey,” I greeted.
He turned, irritation already written across his face, and clearly ready to snap. But then he saw me, paused, and looked confused.
I was smaller, bundled up for the weather, without a hint of malice on my face.
“What?” he grunted.
I tilted my head slightly, letting my gaze drag over him in a way that conveyed I was interested.
“You seem tense,” I said, voice soft enough that it didn’t carry far. “Thought maybe I could help with that.”
He frowned, like he was trying to figure out if he’d heard me right. “I’m not gay,” he said flatly.
I smiled. “That’s okay,” I said easily, stepping just a little closer. Close enough that he had to actually look at me instead of past me. “But a mouth’s a mouth, isn’t it?”
I let my gaze drop intentionally, then licked my lips before looking back up at him from under my lashes.
Behind him, the woman went still, as if she knew I wasn’t who I was portraying myself to be. But even so, she kept her mouth shut and continued watching the interaction.
I leaned into the greasy man’s side, and quietly asked, “Fifteen okay for a blowie?”
His eyes flicked over me again, slower this time. The irritation from before hadn’t fully left, but it had changed shape.
“You any good?” he asked.
“I’ll let you fuck my throat.”
He huffed, pushing himself away from the table. “Fine,” he muttered. “Whatever. A mouth’s a mouth.”
I stepped back, giving him space like I wasn’t leading him exactly where I wanted him. “After you,” I purred.
He snorted, already turning toward the door.
The wind was already picking up, snow flurries hitting my face as I walked outside.
My soon-to-be victim jerked his head for me to follow and started around the side of the building like this was routine for him.
It probably was. I couldn’t imagine anyone willingly being with him without the promise of money.
I trailed after him, letting a small distance sit between us, just enough that he didn’t feel crowded.
The narrow alley behind the bar was dark and shielded from the weak streetlights. A dumpster sat crooked against the wall, overflowing and giving off that sour, rotting smell that mixed unpleasantly with the cold air.
He stopped there, turning to face me, already working at his belt like he couldn’t be bothered to wait another second.
“Alright,” he grunted, jerking his chin. “C’mon.”
I stepped closer, my hand opening expectantly. “Payment first.”
His expression twisted, irritation flaring back up. “Yeah, no,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “You get paid after, whore.”
I tilted my head, letting a small pout touch my mouth. “That’s not how it works.”
“That’s how it works tonight,” he snapped. “You think I’m stupid? I give you cash, you run off.”
I let out a small sigh like I was conceding. “Fine,” I murmured. “But you better not short me.”
He snorted. “Just get on with it.”
I was close enough to smell him properly now, and god I was starting to wish I had something covering my nose. There was no way this man had showered recently.
My hands came up lightly on his sides like I was steadying myself before dropping to my knees.
He relaxed, head tipping back and eyes already half-lidded with anticipation.
Idiot.
I lowered myself just enough to sell it.
Then, my hand moved.
The blade slid free from my sleeve cleanly, quick and practiced, hidden until the very last second.
His confusion barely had time to register before I drove it forward.
His body jerked hard, a choked sound catching in his throat, hands coming down too late—grabbing, scrambling, trying to understand what had just happened.
I leaned in, close to his ear, my grip steady as I held him there.
“Should’ve paid first,” I murmured.
His weight hit me unevenly, heavy and clumsy as his strength gave out faster than we both expected. I eased him down instead of letting him drop, controlling the movement so it stayed quiet, so it stayed contained to this little pocket of darkness behind the bar.
The alley went quiet again, like nothing had happened.
I straightened, adjusting my coat like I’d just finished something mundane instead of what I had, took a quick glance around, then turned and stepped back out of the alley, slipping into the night like I’d never been there at all.
There had been a camera in the alley, but I doubted it was on or working.
If it was, all it would see and hear would be a john getting robbed by a sex worker.
My hair and the majority of my face had been covered.
When his body was inevitably discovered, no one would blink an eye.
Robberies gone too far were relatively common in this town.
I also had confidence that no one from inside the bar would mention anything about me to police.
That was, if the police even cared enough to investigate.