Chapter 24
SILAS
Did she really think I was going to turn down her offer to examine my body?
Absolutely fucking not. I would pretty much let her do whatever she wants with my body.
If she asked nicely enough, that is. Who the fuck am I lying to?
She doesn’t even have to ask nicely, because I’m as equally attracted to her inner psycho, which I can tell she is very much battling with right now.
Part of me wanted to watch what she might do to him, knowing full well she’s capable. But the moment he tried to touch her, my body was moving on its own. She’s my temptation alone to play with.
When we reach her house, she doesn’t wait for me to get out of my car before opening her front door and leaving it slightly ajar as she goes inside, expecting me to follow.
As soon as I push the door open, I see her shoes on the floor and slip mine off.
I close the door and lock it, then follow her.
It’s kind of what I expected—simplistic, dark furnishings with a few pops of color.
There’s a slight chill in the air, and I can’t help but feel like I’m walking into a lion’s den.
I find her in the kitchen, clearing the island counter. She turns and looks at me and then nods to the kitchen counter. “Get undressed and get on it.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to hold my bemused smile.
Ever demanding and with peculiar requests, but it’s what I find most intriguing about her.
I don’t quite know what she’ll do next. It keeps me on my toes, pulling at my interest alongside the heightening infatuation to make her submit to me all over again.
There’s that quiet challenge always in her gaze that makes me only want to play.
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’m already removing my shirt as I walk closer to the counter.
The island counter is a decent size. I wonder if she actually knows how to cook or if she uses it for bodies as well.
A spike of irritation pumps into my bloodstream at the thought of her having anyone else here.
Sliding off my pants, I let them fall to the floor, then immediately turn and put myself on the counter.
She’s watching me with those emerald eyes, and I can tell she’s assessing every single move that I make.
I don’t wait for her instructions. The coldness hits my bare back as I lie down.
Still as the dead, because I know that’s how she’ll appreciate me most.
She steps closer, and then she bends down to look at me.
“Do not try to touch me,” she instructs. “I’ll be doing the examination.”
“I’m not making any promises,” I say with a grin, but she ignores me. I love the way she immediately demands control and fascination. It’s a dark lure where I lie in suspense, wondering if this will end up bloody. My cock twitches. A woman after my own heart.
Her hands are warm when they first touch my stomach. Her featherlight fingertips start at my belly button and slowly dip over each crevasse of my abs as she reaches my chest, her fingers stroking all the ridges.
I’m hard.
I can’t help myself.
Having her touch me does that; having her near me does that.
Fuck.
I really need to not fall for the crazy chick. At least that’s what I’ve heard my men say. Crazy chick. She works with dead bodies, she is quiet and not intimidated by anyone, and she’ll pull a gun on me or any one of them without a second thought.
Truth be told, I kind of like her a little crazy. It makes it exciting because I don’t know what version of her I’ll get next. She’s multifaceted, and there’s always something more to uncover.
It turns me on even more. Not just her body, but her peculiar mind.
“What is the purpose of this?” I ask her.
“I like bodies,” she says and turns to face me, seeing if I have a reaction.
“I like the look of your body,” she tells me as her hand moves from my chest, and she doesn’t stop when she reaches my stomach.
Her hand trails farther down, keeping eye contact as her fingers touch my shaft.
Then, with those desirous eyes, she finally looks away and down to where her hand is.
When she speaks next, it almost sounds distant.
“I once had a man come in. Cause of death: a woman cut off his penis,” she says with a smile, and she looks up at me, her eyes glistening.
Fucking crazy woman.
My cock jumps again.
I like it.
Her hand moves around my shaft in circles before she ventures lower to my balls.
“Why are you here, Silas?” She cups them, squeezing as she does. She sounds as if this is as simple as one of our casual business transactions. All business and in control.
“For you,” I answer.
“But why?” She tightens her grip.
“Because I want to fuck you again.”
“Hmm,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s in approval or dismissing expectation. She releases the pressure, then moves her hands down my thighs, those sharp nails of hers cutting in deeper.
“You have a lot of ink, everywhere…” She drags her fingers over the broken heart tattooed on my thigh. “Did a woman break your heart, Silas?”
Suddenly, this feels like an interrogation, one that I’ll happily be a part of. She’s the only fucking one I’d ever let tie me to a chair. As long as she’s aware of what she does to me, I’ll always return tenfold. And she can handle it.
“No, I broke many.” Her eyes find me again, not that it’s relevant to the tattoo design at all.
“You won’t break mine,” she says as if she is telling herself that. But she says it with such distance that I suspect there’s an old wound there, one she works hard to cover. Or perhaps the betrayal by her best friend has left a bitter burn.
“Are you so sure about that?” I’ve never particularly tried to seduce a woman, but I imagine normal efforts won’t work on Leonore. Fuck, I’m done if I’m thinking about ways to seduce her.
“Yes, because I would never give it to you,” she says matter-of-factly, that icy wall coming between us.
Then she steps back and pulls down her black jeans and panties, but keeps her black shirt on that rests at her upper thighs.
“Just my body. That’s all I am willing to give.
” She pulls the stool over and uses it to step up onto the counter.
“The shirt stays on.” My cock twitches. Fuck me, how can such a demanding brat be so sexy in just a black shirt, when it clings to her in all the right places?
Her hands touch the ceiling as she steps over me.
Glancing down at me, she says, “Do you want me to sit on your cock, Silas?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. I don’t mind letting her be in control now and then. I’m not better than a starved man. But I can also be a patient man when I know the reward will be greater.
“Beg for it,” she says with a smirk. My cock is straining, and I can tell she notices as she glances back, and that smile widens, that sultry gaze snapping back to me.
She removes one hand from the ceiling, then touches herself. Spreading her folds, she slides her fingers through it and starts rubbing herself, giving me a clear fucking view. I can see how wet she is. Fuck me, this woman couldn’t be more beautiful.
“Beg, now,” she demands.
“I’m not a begging man…” I tell her, and she pouts.
“That’s a shame, Silas.” She slips a finger in, and a soft moan slips from her lips.
“Fuck, Doc. Please lower yourself onto me. Now,” I growl out the last part.
“Sorry, I didn’t quite hear you begging…” She toys with me. Fuck, only she could make me do this.
“Fuck, I’m begging, I’m begging for you to have your way…”