Chapter 1
1
H e was cute. Young, but cute. He was sitting with a group of other men across the room from my perch at the bar, all of them wearing expensive bespoke suits. All were fit and handsome.
Businessmen.
Rich businessman downing drinks and probably debating the current state of economics or politics, anything to avoid going home to their wives and children. I’d killed more than a few assholes like them, prototypes of what was wrong with the world. However, the cutie who’d just sent me a drink wasn’t wearing a wedding band. So, maybe...
When he locked eyes with me, I lifted my lemon drop and gave him a smile while mouthing, “Thank you.” He, of course, took that as a sign to leave his companions and navigate his way across The Royale’s plush lounge to me, sliding onto the barstool next to mine.
“Evan Weeks,” he said, proffering me his hand.
I took it, relishing his firm grip. “Dana Stimson,” I replied. Yeah, I was considering giving him some pussy, but I definitely wasn’t giving this man my real name.
Fuck that.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Stimson. Are you enjoying your drink?”
He had green eyes. I didn’t notice that earlier. Green eyes, curly hair, and khaki skin. Biracial, maybe?
“I am. Thank you again,” I replied.
“You’re welcome, beautiful. When I saw you sitting here looking like you’re looking? I just had to get your attention somehow. You’re gorgeous. Red looks good on you.”
I mean, he wasn’t lying. So, I smiled and said, “I appreciate your admiration. My parents did a great job on me, didn’t they?”
He laughed. “They did!”
I gave him a genuine smile. He seemed nice. I’d eat him alive if he wasn’t careful.
“Yeah, so…what are your plans for the rest of the night?” he asked.
Before I could provide an answer, my phone buzzed with a text alert. Glancing at it sitting on the bar, I had to fight not to roll my eyes when I saw who the message was from. Of course, I ignored it.
“I have no plans, unless you intend to make some for me… and you ,” I replied.
Evan lifted a brow, an amused grin adorning his handsome face. “Oh, straight to the point, huh?”
I shrugged. “I’m too old for unnecessary detours.”
“Too old? I don’t believe that.”
“Okay, let’s just say I’m old enough.”
My phone buzzed again, this time with a call from the texter.
Ignored.
Again .
Evan leaned in close to me, his musky cologne filling my nose. “Old enough to let me get us a room upstairs for the night?”
“Exactly,” I affirmed.
I left the bar with Evan, was standing in the Royale’s lobby waiting for him to get our room when I felt a heavy presence I was all too familiar with.
My first thought?
Fuck.
“Why you tryna get that motherfucker killed?” The voice came from behind me—deep, gruff, inducing a chaotic mixture of dread and desire inside me.
When I didn’t turn around or verbalize a response, he added, “Because I will shoot that nigga dead, right here and right now. Him and any witnesses. Try me if you want to, King.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hissed over my shoulder. “You’re having me followed again ?”
“I absolutely had you followed since your ass doesn’t know how to come home.”
“That’s not my home, and by the way, fuck you!” I gritted.
“That’s what your ass is supposed to be doing right now.” Placing his hands on my shoulders, he leaned in close to my ear. “Or are you reneging on our deal?”
I tried to spin around to face him, but he tightened his grip on my shoulders. Still, I said, “I fucking hate you.”
“I know, baby. I know. Now, let’s go. I need some of that hateful pussy.”
“Uh, Dana? Everything okay?” Evan said, approaching me with a key card in hand. Lifting it, he advised, “I got the room.”
The asshole behind me reached around my body, snatching the key card from Evan. “You got us a room? Thanks,” Mr. Asshole said, his voice dripping with snark.
“What the fuck—" Evan was cut off by a big hand connecting with his chest. The owner of said hand, a huge man I knew as Moody, warned, “You don’t want this, not with him,” as he opened his old ass Bulls starter jacket—a wardrobe staple for him—revealing a holstered Glock.
Evan wore a look that was somewhere between confusion and anger as his eyes dropped to meet mine.
I could admit that this was fucked up and that I realized the probability of this happening was astronomical, so I felt bad for Evan. I really did; hence, I offered him a sincere, “Sorry.”
Then a hand grasped mine and I was led to an elevator while asking, “Damn, are you going to at least reimburse the man for the room?”
Asshole stopped in his tracks and stared at me. At first glance, this man I’d known and hated for more than half my life appeared unremarkable. Was he handsome? Absolutely, but in an understated way—glasses, salt and pepper beard, average build, not particularly tall—but his aura? His presence? It was suffocating and overwhelming and utterly irresistible. When this man walked in a room, the walls vibrated. Hell, I knew he would show up tonight because I could feel him from kilometers away. Nevertheless, I hated him, but I wanted to hate him more. I needed to hate him more.
“Am I going to do what ?” he inquired, a look of astonishment shrouding his face.
“Are you going to reimburse the man for the room you just stole? It’s the least you could do since you also stole me from him,” I said.
He scoffed, “First of all, how the FUCK can I steal what’s mine? Second, why the FUCK would I reimburse a man for a room he was going to use to eat a pussy that belongs to me?”
The elevator doors opened, and as he pulled me inside it, I offered, “Bo, he didn’t know about you.”
“And now he does.”
I snatched my gaze from him, fixing my eyes on the now closed elevator doors as the car began to ascend. When we arrived on one of the higher floors, I looked at him to find his eyes pasted to me.
“He got a suite?” I queried.
The asshole smirked. “Hell no. I got one once I knew you were here. This shit?” He held up Evan’s key card. “It’s for one of the regular rooms. Probably stub your toe on the bed frame the second you enter the room, and you were planning to give that cheap motherfucker some of that good-ass pussy of yours.” He sucked his teeth and added, “Damn shame.”
I rolled my eyes and followed him out the box, a few steps down the hallway, and into Suite 1628. He damn near jerked me inside, the door still closing when his arms enveloped me and his lips met my neck. A moan left his mouth as he kissed that sensitive spot just above my collarbone, and that sound led to my rapid undoing. There was just something about hearing that level of vulnerability from a monster because in truth, that was what he was. Hell, Bo Pierce was the boogeyman in the flesh, a night terror, and a real-life Freddy Krueger all rolled into one, but right now and in this moment as he held me close to his body, I could feel his heart racing, his breathing harsh with need…for me.
“I fucking missed you,” he growled as he lifted his head, his mouth finding mine in an oxygen depleting kiss that burned hot and slow.
Any response I had to offer was muted by the tongue play we engaged in, my own heart pounding with anticipation of what I knew was to come.
He kissed me so deeply that I felt lightheaded in a wonderful, blissful way. Once our mouths parted, I sighed then gasped when he stepped backward a bit, reaching for my nice, very expensive Nina Rapport blouse and ripping it until it hung from me in tatters. Moments later, I was on my knees in the gorgeous bed in that luxurious suite, my clothes on the floor in a pile of ruined fabric. I was practically whining with need, my body vibrating as I waited for my tormentor to fuck me like only he could. He loved making me wait. He got a kick out of torturing me.
I really hated this man.
The bed dipped with his weight as he positioned himself behind me, his hands grasping my hips as the head of his thick dick pressed against the opening of my hungry pussy.
“Bo…” I whined.
He slid his right hand up my back to my hair, grabbing a handful of it as he eased inside me, almost making my entire body collapse onto the mattress. He retreated, and this time, plowed into me with enough force to move me up the bed while causing me to smile.
I’d definitely pissed him off.
“You like this, don’t you?” he grunted as he punished me and my pussy. “You like pissing me off and making me fuck the shit out of you! You enjoy it, don’t you?”
“Ohhhhh, fuck!” I wailed.
He tightened his grip on my hair, yanking my head backward hard . “Answer me, King!”
“Fuck you! I ain’t answering shit!” I spat.
“Oh? You’re not?” he asked as he slammed into me.
“Hell. Noooooo!”
“Okay.” He punctuated that one-word statement with a punitive thrust that almost sent me into the headboard. He fucked me and fucked me and fucked me, not bothering to stop or ease up even as I screamed my way through a mind-numbing orgasm, and when he hit his peak, he crowded my body, hissing into my ear, “Stop playing like this pussy ain’t mine before someone gets deleted out this bitch.”
Drowsy sex was the best sex, especially with this asshole. Neither of us had recovered from last night. Plus, neither of us slept well in hotels—side effects of our lifestyles and professions. So, groggy didn’t come close to describing our current condition as I lay on my back and watched him close his heavy-lidded eyes while sliding inside me and gripping the pillow beneath my head. Closing my own bleary eyes, I fought not to cry out because this? This slow-stroking shit he was doing? It felt too good and too intimate and too real, but there was nothing good or intimate or real about me fucking Bo. It was business, and honestly, it would only ever be business since I despised him, and he didn’t give half a fuck about me outside of a bed.
But damn did he feel like heaven.
When I opened my eyes, I found his fixed on my face, something unsettling in them as he lowered his head to kiss me while continuing to deliver measured strokes. Ending the kiss, he stared at me again, that same look in his eyes. I didn’t like this shit. Not at all.
So, I murmured, “The fuck are you looking at me like that for?”
His eyes narrowed as he eased back and plowed into me so hard that my titties bounced, smacking against my chin.
Yeah , I thought, that’s more like it.
“And how the hell am I leaving this place? You fucked up my clothes,” I fussed.
“I’ll get someone to bring you some got damn clothes. Now, shut up so I can finish fucking you. Shit!”
I did shut up, but not because he told me to. I shut up because I’d accomplished my mission and thwarted whatever declaration of affection his stupid ass was about to make.
Plus, the dick was good.
Shidddd, it was excellent!