Chapter 23
SABLE
"That was so good." I rubbed my stomach, full from the meal.
Everything was cooked so perfectly. Not heavy on the spices, but subtle and delicate instead. Just what I needed.
Once I stepped away from Bob's apartment, reality started to crash in on me a little bit. The implications of what we'd done. Anything too heavy or too spicy would have spoiled in my belly and made me sick.
"Forest always knows the best places to eat," Leif said.
Forrest shrugged and glanced down at the screen of the phone in his hand. "Clean-up crew has been in and out." He tucked the phone away.
I exhaled in relief. For the last hour or so, I'd worried someone would find Bob before they did. Whether his death could be traced back to us or not was a different story, but that risk made me anxious as hell.
The men? They didn't seem so concerned. I got the feeling they had this down to a fine art by now. They knew what to do, and how not to get caught.
"I'm going to go to the restroom," I said, placing my hands on the table and pushing the chair back so I could stand.
All three of them glanced around, before Forrest nodded. Not that I needed his permission, but whatever they were looking for, I might have missed. If they decided it was safe, then it was.
I hoped.
Leaving them to finish their beers, I headed to the back of the restaurant and into the corridor that led to the washrooms. The space was narrow. The walls and floor well-worn, if clean.
The washroom was just as small, leaving barely enough space to turn around. Fortunately, it was unoccupied.
I quickly did what I needed to do and washed my hands.
Stepping back out, I ran right into Woody's firm chest. He grabbed my arms and pulled me further down the corridor, before pressing me against the wall. I was so startled, I forgot to even let out a squeak of surprise.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.
"Drying my hands?" I suggested, shaking droplets off in the direction of his face.
He shook his head and bared his teeth.
"I'm not talking about that and you fucking know it."
"What are you talking about then?" I asked reasonably. At least it seemed reasonable to me.
"I'm talking about you coming with us tonight." He sounded like he was right at the end of his patience. A sentiment I could appreciate. He was pushing me right to the end of mine.
"Everyone needs to eat," I said, pretending I didn't understand what he was referring to.
"You know what I fucking mean," he growled in my ear.
His breath against my lobe made me shiver. If I wasn't already turned on by watching Leif kill Bob, I was by Woody's body pressed against me, holding me hard against the painted brick wall.
"I was there to do the same thing you were there to do," I said, trying to keep my voice even, when my knees wanted to buckle under me. If he wasn't holding me up, I might have ended up a puddle on the floor.
"Why?" he demanded.
"For the same reason you want to do it, I suppose." I managed a small shrug. "Believe it or not, there are some assholes in the world." I raised my eyebrows at him.
"There's worse people out there than me," he agreed. He didn't look like he believed it either.
I smirked. "I don't know if I'd go that far." Was that his erection pressing against my side? "The bar is pretty low, I admit."
"There you go running that mouth off again," he said. He wound my hair around his fist. "I can think of better uses for that mouth."
"Can you now?" I asked, daring to look him right in the eyes.
The smile he gave me was feral. He reminded me of a wild animal, contemplating the best way to eat his prey.
"Yeah, I can," he whispered. "Your pretty little smart mouth would look good around my cock."
I shivered. My pulse raced, filling my body with white hot heat.
"You want to taste it, don't you?" he whispered. "You want me to fuck your mouth. Admit it." He tightened his grip on my hair.
I might end up a puddle on the floor yet.
"Why would I want to do that?" I asked. "Remember the fun you had lighting that fire earlier today?"
"How could I forget?" he said, his voice rough. "I heard you scream. You sounded like you were coming. I bet you’d sound like that if I fucked that tight little pussy of yours. You want that too, don't you? You want me to make you scream."
Yes.
"You've already made me scream enough," I told him. "Believe it or not, not everyone gets off on almost being murdered."
"Not everyone," he agreed, "but you do, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"This might surprise you, but it doesn’t have anything to do with you," I said, trying to hit him in the ego. As I suspected, it didn't even leave a dent.
"Bullshit," he said. "You’re here for Forrest and Leif, but you're here for me as well. You want me as much as you want them."
"If that's true, it only proves I'm broken," I said.
"The best of us are," he smirked. "Broken and beautiful." In a whisper he added, "Drop-dead lethal."
"Is that what you think you are?" I asked. "Drop-dead gorgeous and deadly." He wasn't wrong.
"Sounds accurate to me." He pressed his erection harder into me. "You haven't denied you want this. Go on, deny it."
I averted my gaze. "I can't," I admitted. "It's a physical response to the whole day. I still hate you."
"I hate you too," he said before slamming his mouth down onto mine. He kissed me like he was hungry, starving, as if he'd never tasted anything like me.
I could have pulled away, but I found myself kissing him back, grinding my hips against his cock, enjoying the way he became harder and harder. Reveling in the way he groaned, his stubble pressed against my cheek.
"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come in my jeans," he said, barely moving his lips from mine to speak.
I scoffed. "Maybe you should have more control." I pressed my hand down between us and rubbed the heel over his erection.
"Fuck," he moaned.
He undid the front of his jeans and pushed them down, freeing his erection, letting me wrap my fingers around his length.
For the second time in an hour or so, I felt powerful. His pleasure was in my hand. Literally. I could have pushed him away from me and walked off.
I didn't.
Smirking to remind him how much I hated him, I sank to my knees. His cock at eye height, I stroked him slowly. One hand on his balls, the other teasing. Running my fingers along the vein on the underside of his cock.
I glanced up to see him glaring at me, like he also wanted to pull away and stalk off down the corridor. Instead, he wrapped my hair around his fist again and held me in place. Held me tighter when I licked my way around his head, tasting his pre-cum. Every action slow and deliberate.
I wanted him to come completely apart for me. I wanted him to lose control.
Right when I thought he was going to come in my hand, I opened my mouth and swallowed as much of him as I could fit inside my mouth. All the way down to the back of my throat.
"Fuck," he whispered, "I knew your mouth was good for something."
I raised an eyebrow at him, but started to suck. Still keeping my movements slow and careful. I was in control now. Not him. I was the one who'd decide when and how he came. He was just along for the ride.
I stopped sucking when he started to roll his hips, thrusting himself into my mouth. I didn't continue until he grunted and stood still.
I made a satisfied sound in the back of my throat and resumed sucking while I stroked his balls. My fingers caressed the soft skin, resisting the temptation to dig my nails in and hurt him.
We both knew I could damage him if I wanted to. That made me feel more powerful still. More in control.
I sucked a little faster. Pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
I looked up at him and inclined my head. Nodding slightly, giving him permission to give in to his release.
He bared his teeth at me, but he didn't complain. He knew if he did, I'd stop.
With a grunt, he came, spilling his release into my mouth, filling my throat with pearly saltiness. His mouth twitched like he wanted to tell me to swallow, but for once, he didn't say a word.
He watched while I drew my head back from him, and swallowed down every drop.
"Fucking hell, woman," he whispered, pulling me back to my feet by my hair.
I rose quickly, not wanting him to pull it out by its roots, thank you very much.
"Something to say?" I asked, cocking my head at him. He could have slammed my head against the wall or strangled me.
He didn't.
"Not a fucking thing," he said. He let my hair go and pushed himself away from me, quickly tucking his cock back into his pants.
"You’re a prick," I said to his back.
He raised both hands to either side of him, flipped me off and kept walking.
I rolled my eyes and headed back into the restroom to fix my hair. It looked like a tangled mess, half of it pulled out of my ponytail, the other half barely hanging on.
I smiled to myself. That felt good. I suspected he didn't often have people reminding him he wasn't the only one in charge. From now on, that was going to be me.
My former stepson was going to learn who was boss around here.