Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Hugo
Safe to say, tonight isn’t going as planned.
At all.
I showed up to kill a murderer and ended up with a painfully hard erection, bleeding lightly from the leg and cupping the hottest pussy I’ve ever had the privilege of touching.
None of my contingencies account for this.
“What?” the woman in my arms asks.
Her body’s rigid and her voice is suspicious, but underneath that, I hear excitement.
And hell, I can’t back out now. Even if I could, I don’t fucking want to.
Not when she’s gripping her knife and my cock’s prodding her ass and both hard objects are demanding I give her everything she wants and then some.
“First person to make the other one come gets to kill Howie.”
There. I said it again, out loud. This is either the best or the stupidest plan I’ve had in a long, long time. Judging by the hitch in her breathing, I’m going with best.
“That’s… that’s…” The hand not gripping her blade lands on my thigh and squeezes. “We can’t do that.”
“We can do anything we want,” I say. “I certainly have, and it sounds like you have too.”
She’s silent for a beat before saying, “We can’t do that here.”
Somehow, my cock gets even harder. She’s not saying no. She’s also being smart.
Then again… “We’ve got six whole hours.”
“We’ve also got a whole lot of DNA,” she shoots back.
I shrug. That problem, at least, is easily solved. “Winner kills Howie and burns this place down afterward.”
She goes still in my arms, and I relax my grip, giving her another chance to slip away and end this little game.
She stays put, but she also stays silent, letting her earlier accusation ring in my ears. I know damn well she has no reason to trust the stranger manhandling her in the dark, but I try anyway. “I won’t take anything you don’t want to give me, killer.”
A beat passes before she says, “You will try to take Howard from me, though.”
I have no idea what my Morticia looks like, but I picture her frowning as she says this. And yeah, I’ll do my best to be the one to kill this motherfucker.
“I could just tie you up and carry you out of here so I can finish the job in peace.”
Her muscles tense, but I don’t tighten my hold on her again. This decision’s completely in her hands.
“A million years out of school, and I’m still getting bullied by dumb jocks,” she mutters.
I bite back a laugh at being mistaken for either of those things, and it turns into a strangled groan when she looks over her shoulder and her eyes meet mine through the slits in our masks.
It’s too dark to see the color or even the shape, but damned if they’re not the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen regardless. “How’d you know it was him?”
I hesitate, then figure what the hell. It’s not like we’ll see each other after tonight.
“He fits the psych profile. A person of interest in past arsons. Failed the city firefighter test six times. Was raised by a grandmother he hated and was off work two Saturdays ago.”
The night Mary Glenn’s house burned.
Neighbor girl’s face floats into my memory.
Right. Rue. The reason I’m here. She doesn’t belong in this closet with two killers. She’d be horrified if she knew what I was doing tonight, and doubly so if she knew I was doing it because Howard Marshall’s actions made her sad at the mailbox.
Good thing she’ll never know what I really am.
Then Morticia slides the hand not holding her knife higher up my uninjured thigh and reminds me exactly who I’m in this closet with.
Obsess over one woman at a time, jackass.
“The container outside the closet,” she says as her hand travels toward my groin. “Was that powdered aluminum?”
“Ye-sssss.” My affirmative answer turns into a hiss when those seeking fingers finally reach my dick, which had been happily wedged against her ass and is now even happier to be squeezed.
“It was in the spare bedroom with the potassium nitrate. How did you k-know?” Another squeeze.
“The cops haven’t released that detail,” I choke out.
“You’re not the only one who can research,” she replies, and fuck, this girl is sneaky. Getting me to talk while her nimble fingers are busy, busy, busy. “That’s what he used in the most recent fire.”
“A solid oxidizer and a metal fuel.” I’m falling behind in our competition, so I run my long middle finger along the seam of her leggings. She jolts like she’s been electrified. “But he used different combinations in those three other house fires.”
“It’s four,” she says on a gasp as I press lightly on her clit through the thin material. “Four other high-temp accelerant fires, plus Mary Glenn’s.”
I mean to catalog the way she says Mary’s name, with devastation and a promise, so I can pull it apart again later and make sense of it. But she presses the heel of her hand against the head of my dick, and every coherent thought is lost in a blast of pleasure.
“Okay. Five total.” I slap the flat of my fingers against her core, drawing a whimper from her.
“And then the burn cream… the…” Her chest expands in a huge inhale. “The trash. It’s definitely him.”
“Definitely. And I think you’re going to come fast for me,” I whisper in her ear as she rubs herself against my fingers, “which means I get to end his miserable life.”
Now she’s shifting in my hold, likely trying to jack me off at a less awkward angle, but I act like the dumb jock she accused me of being and refuse to budge an inch or help her, despite my body screaming What the fuck are you doing?
Let her touch your dick the way she wants, idiot.
But watching my Morticia try to maneuver her way out of an impossible situation—an impossible situation created by me—charges my nerves almost as much as her touch, especially when she gives a little growl and pushes up the bottom of her mask.
“What are you doing?” Alarm and elation hit me at once. Does she want me to see her face? Do I want to see her face? That would send this encounter in a whole new direction, and I’m not at all prepared for it.
“Shut up,” she mutters as she bites one fingertip of her glove and tugs.
She moves on to the next finger and the next until she can yank the whole glove off with her teeth and drops it to the floor.
The angle’s wrong for me to catch a glimpse of her lips when she switches her knife to her other hand and makes quick work of the second glove, but I stop caring when she tugs the mask back into place and reaches between our bodies again.
I didn’t think it was possible for me to get even harder, but her bare fingers are some kind of black magic, even through the fabric of my pants.
“What, no more quips, Mr. Said-The-Word-Murder-First?” She rubs her palm in a tight circle over the tip of my dick, and I wonder if she can feel the precum that’s collected there.
“Jesus. Keep doing that,” I bite out. In the back of my mind, I know I should care more about how reckless this is, but I don’t. I do not care. I want to bare my soul to this woman, confess every dark thing I’ve ever done through gritted teeth because of how fucking good her touch feels.
“Excellent.” She uses those clever fingers to pop the button of my pants and slip past the layers of fabric until she can grip me fully, at which point my whole world blinks offline. Then she rubs her thumb along my slit and pulls my soul back into my body.
Fuck. I might lose this competition after all.
I might be okay with that.
“Just like that, Morticia.” I shift back to give her more room as she spreads my precum down my shaft.
She tilts her head to the side but doesn’t slow her fingers. “Morticia?”
“Addams,” I say thickly.
“Morticia? Not Wednesday?” Another squeeze.
“Fuck no. Wednesday’s a child. Morticia’s a woman.”
She chuffs a tiny laugh. “And I suppose that makes you Gomez?”
“Call me anything you want,” I say as I thrust into her hand. “Just don’t stop.”
She mutters a curse and grips me even tighter, and this might just be the hottest encounter of my life. I’ve had plenty of sex, plenty of good sex, some of it to burn off energy after a kill, all of it with strangers in bars or on the apps, none of it touched by darkness.
But my Morticia’s no innocent, and I don’t have to hold back. The thought has me pulling up my mask just far enough to sink my teeth into the soft patch of skin above the neck of her hoodie.
She jolts, squeezing me even harder before rolling her hips against my fingers. “No fair,” she whimpers.
“Nothing fair about it.” I bite her again and turn my wrist so she can rub her clit against the hard knuckle of my thumb. “This is about winning.”
“And about Marshall losing.” She punctuates her words with a back-and-forth slide of her clit over my hand.
I snort at her murder-focused response and turn my bite into a suck. She pumps me harder in response.
“Jesus, how are your fingers so strong?” I say on a tortured exhale.
“And how is your tongue so hot?” She gasp-laughs and shakes her head.
“I mean, duh, all tongues are hot.” She rocks against me, her husky voice turning faraway and dreamy.
“In my last year of college, a guy assaulted my sorority sister. Bragged about it. Star athlete thought he could get away with anything. So I cut out his tongue.”
“Fuck.” My cock starts to leak at the proof that she’s as twisted as I am, and I respond by licking my way across her nape to bite the other side of her neck.
“I thought about giving it to her as a present,” she says, gasping and grinding, “but thankfully remembered, you know, manners. So I settled for tossing it into the lake near campus with the rest of his parts.”
Moisture dampens my glove as her pussy throbs, and are you fucking kidding me? Talking about one of her past murders turns her on even more, which turns me on even more. I may never let her leave this closet.
“His tongue was hot when I pulled it out of his head,” she gasps, squeezing me tight as I circle my fingers over her clit, “but yours is h—oh fuck—hotter. Also, I think I prefer you alive and talking.”