27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
The Hound
Then punish me for it.
Such a wicked fucking woman, tempting me after lying to me. I had no intention of threatening to choke her on my cock, given everything I’ve discovered. I understand now why she asked to take it slow. However...I saw hunger in her eyes when she said those words to me.
Though, I still can’t decide if I’m mad at her. I mean, I am pissed she lied to me, but after sitting through that conversation with Liam, I’m confused as to why she lied about it to me. It was purely platonic, and on top of that, I didn’t hear anything officially business-related.
So why hide it? Unless she’s either using code lingo or she’s something more insidious...
My footsteps on the pavers are quiet as I round the corner of the house. It’s a massive place, and I try to imagine Cher and Cash in it. I stare up at the security system—one that I’ve already hacked into. It’s useless. I mean, up against a hacker like me, I guess. I pause then, gazing out across the view of Las Vegas. The city lies in the valley, and I’ve always been perturbed by the way it seems to end abruptly from afar, swallowed by mountainous desert.
It could eat someone.
My fists clench at my sides, images from that bloody fucking phone flashing in my mind. I need revenge as much as I need Cher for myself. Her broken phone is an issue, and the location stopped tracking—though I’m not sure that’s a bad thing if I have competition.
I fucking hate competition.
My phone ringing draws me from my thoughts though, and I glance down at the unknown number. I requested some information via the dark web earlier, intrigued by the Black Widow. There’s little to go on, other than they’re a mythical serial killer taking out rich men in Vegas. However, the deaths are all drug related—but my gut won’t let me forget that two men died in relation to Cher. But also...What about the phone and those pictures? Could the person chasing her be killing off the men she sees?
I couldn’t blame them for that. I struggle to see Cher killing someone. Also, she told me “no” that night in the bathroom. Not that I can trust anything that comes out of her mouth. Fuck. I nearly miss the call.
“Yes?” I answer, waiting to see who’s on the other end.
A distorted voice comes over the line. “She exists.”
“Okay. Who is she?”
“Don’t know but leave her alone.”
“Who is this?” I know it’s a stupid question, but sometimes people still answer it—and I need a little longer before I can track and get a location.
“None of your damn business.”
“Fair enough.” My watch vibrates, and I hang up. I pull up the tracing app I developed and track the call.
Right to Cher’s place of work.
My fucking head hurts, and I kill about twenty minutes looking around. Then, I pull up a different app and call the number back under the guise of the downstairs bar—just to see.
“What is it now, Carlos?” a familiar voice snaps over the line.
Sarah.
I hang up and suck in a deep breath. I’m so close to cracking Cher, but I don’t want to have to confront her. I want her to choose to tell me the truth. More than anything, I want us to be real, and once I know it is, I’ll fucking take her brother head on.
“This is the outside patio,” a light, airy voice wafts from around the other side of the house. I pop my jaw and slide my phone back into my jean pocket. Slowly, I make my way around to the backyard, opening the wrought iron gate.
I take in the landscaped yard, complete with a pool and fully loaded deck with an outside kitchen. It’s nice, sure, but it just doesn’t impress me. The realtor eyes me as I join the group, and I take in Cher and Henry. Their similarities seem to appear less and less, and right now, the only thing they share is the same color hair and a leaner build.
“So what do we think?” she asks them, her eyes bouncing between the two.
“Let us talk,” Henry grunts.
“Of course,” she replies. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
I stand off to the side, staring into the crystal waters of the elongated oval shaped pool. I could just drown myself. I purse my lips at the intrusive thought, my gaze drifting over to the Bayne siblings—and that’s a mistake.
“How was the security system?” Henry demands.
“Fine,” I kick a small rock into the pool. “Looks like it’ll catch someone sneaking around the house when they shouldn’t be.”
“It does have an alarm system, too,” Henry adds before turning to Cher. “What do you think?”
“It’s really nice.” Her voice is flat, and like she’s done since this morning, she avoids looking at me.
“Okay,” Henry says with a nod. “I’ll put in an offer then.”
“Great,” Cher breathes out. “I need to get to work. I opted to pick up a shift.”
Liar, liar.
“Why?” Henry looks mortally wounded. “I figured we’d grab dinner after this.”
“Yeah, but Sarah really needs me to come in,” she reasons, and this fact has me wondering if there’s a possibility of truth in this statement.
Except her fucking phone is broke.
Henry sighs, but then pauses to answer his ringing phone. I can instantly tell it’s Lydia based on the softness in his voice, and I take the moment to escape to the house. If Cher’s going to be living here, I might as well see the layout for myself. I pull the sliding glass door open, and peer inside, catching sight of the realtor also chatting on the phone in the front room.
My eyes drift across the open, luxurious space, and then the staircase off the main living area. I head right for it, taking them two at a time.
“Looking for a bathroom?” a voice calls from behind me.
I almost smile, and spin around to see Cher on the mid-landing, her black Vans a striking contrast to the white carpet. “Maybe. Is there one up here?”
“Yeah, but only the master bath.” She takes a few steps up, stopping at the just beneath me. “You want me to show you it?”
“Sure.” I let her pass me, her perfume musky and feminine—and inviting as fuck. It takes everything I have not to reach out and grab her. She lies to me, but I have a good feeling I know why.
And I’m not giving up. Not yet.
“It’s through here.” Cher calls, and I pick up to follow her down a hallway. There’s a second living area and then two doors. “One of these is an office,” she clarifies before opening the furthest white door.
I make a note of how silent it becomes as I step inside the room, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s been soundproofed. It’s a large, empty fucking space, and as I take in the warm gray walls, the door clicks shut behind me.
“Playing hide and seek with Henry isn’t a good idea,” I reason as she flips the lock. “And you’re not fucking forgiven.”
“I’m just showing you the bathroom.” She makes it sound so innocent as she keeps her distance, passing me and leading the way. Cher swings the door open and flips on the light.
I step through the threshold, taking in the massive bath with a jacuzzi tub, walk-in stone shower, and double sinks—all attached to a extra-large walk-in closet. “It’s a bathroom. Grayscale, too. Just like all the rest.”
Cher turns to me. “It’s nice though.”
I shut the door, flipping the lock and smirking at her catching breath. “What makes it nice?” I demand, taking a step toward her. “Hmm?”
She folds her arms across her chest. “It just is, and...” She pauses. “You’re in it.”
“That’s smooth. Too bad I can’t trust a single fucking thing that comes out of your pathological lying mouth.”
She winces, and I’m hit with a pang of guilt. Her eyes divert to her shoes, and I’m once again reminded of the way that asshole treated her—the way he incapacitated her, raped her, and talked to her like she wanted it.
“Anyway, yeah, here’s the bathroom,” Cher mutters, never looking back up. She goes to slip past me, and before I even fucking register what I’m doing, I jut my arm out and stop her. Tugging her by her jean short’s pocket, I pull her back to me...
And unsnap them.
My brains tries to tell me to stop, but I ignore it, giving into the temptation to touch her. I block everything out and let myself lose control. I don’t waste any time, ripping the denim and her notoriously black underwear down to her knees. She gasps, and I spin her around. “Bend over, doll.” I don’t give her an option, and she whimpers as she leans over, bracing against the countertop.
Rage funnels into my body as I think of someone exploiting and abusing this woman, who just willingly bared her glistening, wet pussy for me. But she also lied to me.
And for that, I leave a handprint on her ass.
She lets out a muffled cry, but pushes back, arching her back. I know I don’t have much time, and I want this woman begging to have more of me, crawling back with need. So, I drop to my knees behind her. I pull her shorts the rest of the way down and slap her ankle. Cher instantly lifts her leg for me. I remove them, sliding them right over her shoe.
I run my fingertips along her inner thighs, and then press them apart. She’s hesitant but follows my silent instructions. I spread her ass and then run my tongue from front to back. She sucks in a ragged breath.
But I want to fucking suffocate in her sweet pussy.
I drop down on my ass and spin around, sliding beneath her. Cher trembles above me, but I don’t stop, reaching up and bringing her forward. I wrap my arms around her upper thighs, bending her right to my face.
“Better hold on tight,” I growl, and then bury my face in her. She cries out as I suck her clit into my mouth. She squirms against me, but I don’t relent, locking my arms around her legs. My tongue flits across her, drinking in everything she’ll give me.
“Jude,” she rasps, leaning over me. My abs are burning, but I keep going, edging her closer and closer, falling into a rhythm that makes her legs tremble. “ Holy fuck, ” she moans, her head dropping down to rest against her arms.
I chuckle into her, noting the way her muscles are tightening against me. It’s almost too easy to bring her to climax, and it goes straight to my ego. She’s so fucking close to coming, and she whimpers more and more with every single fucking lap of my tongue. But as she begins to break free...
I stop.
“Please don’t,” Cher whines, her body shaking in my arms. “I’m so close. Please. Jude, please. Let me come.”
I lean forward, swiping my tongue through her slits, fresh arousal there for me to taste. I hang over her clit, inhaling her sweet cunt. It’s fucking tempting to give her what she wants, but...
“You don’t get to come yet.” I unlock my arms and push her onto to her ass in my lap. She lets out a cry as her pussy lands right on top of my hard bulge. “Being a little fucking liar won’t get you anywhere with me,” I scold her, and then shift her bare ass off onto the cold tile. “Finish yourself.”
“Fuck you, Jude,” she spits back at me as I stand to my feet. “You’re a dick.”
“Then we’re a perfect match.” I grin wickedly and lean down to brush the hair from her face. I tip her chin up with my index finger, and then kiss her, dropping my hand to her jaw and squeezing. I run my tongue across hers, giving her a taste of her pussy. She moans into my mouth, and as soon as she does, I drop her back.
She catches herself with her hands and then glares up at me, but the glimpse of longing behind the irritation rips at my heart. Her lips part, and she almost says something, but doesn’t.
“When you’re ready to apologize, come find me,” I say.
And then I leave her there.