Chapter 8 #2
“Okay. Glad we have that cleared up.” Then I wiggle my fingers at him, eager for fun Gomez to come out and play. “Now gimme the goods. I told you about the tongue thing from college, remember?”
“I couldn’t forget a single moment from that closet even if I tried.” His voice is so serious it gives me pause.
“Wait. Did you try?”
Now he pushes away from the wardrobe door he’s been lounging against.
“Maybe. A little.”
“Why?” I tease. “Got a girl waiting for you at home?”
When he hesitates again, my rage switch gets flipped back to ON.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I pull myself into a squat on top of the wardrobe as jealousy burns through me. “I’ve never killed someone for cheating, but there’s a first time for everything.”
He links his hands behind his neck and squeezes.
“I’m not a cheater. I mean, there’s a woman, but we’re not—” He lets his arms fall as he paces toward the door.
“I can’t talk to her the way I talk to you.
Not about this”—he gestures around the room—“and this is a pretty fucking big part of my life.” He makes a frustrated noise. “Not that it matters.”
“She’s not interested in getting with tall, dark, and homicidal?” I don’t have to remind myself to keep my voice low and growly while we’re discussing this unpleasant new development.
“Fuck no,” he says, sounding horrified at the very suggestion. “And I’d never ask her to.”
My anger’s starting to shift from Gomez to the mystery woman who doesn’t appreciate having access to hot-and-cold-running killer in the daylight hours.
Actually, fuck them both—him for knowing I’m a heartless bitch you can anonymously fingerbang in a closet, and her for being an innocent he’d never dream of tainting.
A little retaliation. It’s the only answer.
I look over his head to the empty doorway.
“Did you hear that?” I whisper urgently.
He spins around, and I leap to the floor and land in a crouch, spinning my leg in a low-to-the-ground sweep kick that catches him in the ankle when he starts to turn back around.
He’s already off balance, and my momentum makes it easy to topple him face down onto the soft carpet.
Then I’m on him, hooking my right foot under his hip so he can’t roll to the side and twisting his left arm up between his shoulder blades so I can pin his chest to the ground with my body weight.
“I bet your precious girlie grew up with two parents, weekly clarinet lessons, and a pony,” I mutter in his ear.
He laughs darkly. “I grew up with two parents, weekly clarinet lessons, and a pony.” He attempts to push up with his lower body, but I cling tighter and press harder. He’ll be able to shake me off before long, but right now, I’m relishing the control I have over the big man underneath me.
“Sounds like you two are perfect for each other.”
“I don’t want to talk about her,” he growls.
“No?” I tighten my grip on his wrist. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
He explodes into action, using his size and strength to push off the ground and spin us both, leaving me on my back with the muscled length of his body covering mine and the hard press of his cock digging into my thigh.
“The first person I killed on my own was a predator who went after little kids,” he says in a low, steady voice.
“I strangled him and left him in the park where he thought he was meeting a twelve-year-old girl. My methods have changed since then, but I don’t take chances, and I don’t take trophies. ”
“On your own?” There’s another little detail to examine later.
His only response is to drag his cock torturously slowly just below where I need it the most.
“I’ll take that as ‘no comment,’” I murmur.
He laughs and makes another slow sweep of my body with his dick.
“If I Google any of that,” I ask with a gasp, “will I find any news stories?”
“Maybe. Probably not.” He rolls his hips, making me see stars. “His reason for being in that park wasn’t in the media, and a story like that gets buried. Plus, I didn’t tell you the year or the city.”
“Your first solo kill, lost to the sands of time.” He notches the head of his cock against my core and rocks into me hard. “H-how does that make you feel?”
Oops. I’m getting dry-humped into Hugo levels of conversation.
Gomez pulls back to stare at me, his eyes burning into mine.
Fuck. All I can think about is turning on every light in this house so I can see what color they are.
Bonus: I’d be able to see those muscles moving under his shirt.
Then he uses his knee to nudge my thighs open, and I stop thinking entirely.
“I didn’t feel bad then, and I don’t feel bad now. And that’s the last kill I didn’t make look like an accident.” He shoves my legs even wider and settles his hips between them. “There. Happy, killer?”
“Getting there.” I moan as he moves his hips in a languid circle that sends his cock gliding over my clit. “But I won’t be completely satisfied until you say, ‘This kill is yours, Morticia.’”
“You haven’t won yet,” he reminds me as he pins my wrists over my head and grinds into me harder.
“Are you asking me to get you off?” Because I’m already three-fourths of the way there myself, so if this is another race, I need to know now. “We’ve got a couple of hours left before Navarro’s back home.”
“No, I—” he pants. “I mean, if you wanted to… ah fuck.” His precise little circles have turned into full-on thrusts that drag up my pussy before colliding with my clit, and we both jolt at the contact. “You’re bad for my focus, Morticia,” he grinds out. “It’s starting to affect my work.”
I hook a leg around his hip, not to try rolling him again but to spread my legs wider so he can grind even harder against me. “Don’t tell me you filed a grievance with the union.”
He laughs, but it turns into a whispered curse as he frees my hands so he can palm my breasts.
“No cutting up this bodysuit,” I warn him shakily, and his head falls into the crook of my neck with a laughing groan.
My fingers itch to pull the mask free so I can see his face and dig my fingers into his hair.
Would he pull mine off too? Or would that be the thing that snaps his control in the way I don’t want?
Mom would’ve already pulled his mask off, and I suppose the fact that I haven’t is why I’m still alive and she’s dead.
“Can you do it safely?” he asks.
I snap back to the man grinding between my legs. “Can I come without getting you pregnant? Yeah, I think so.”
He laughs at my dumb little joke, and why have I done more laughing with this stranger in the dark than I have with anyone in my life other than Fi?
“I’m asking”—his hips are a machine, keeping up the friction that’s turning us both desperate—“if you can kill Navarro without getting hurt yourself?”
“Oh, is this where you want my résumé?” No idea how I have the presence of mind to swap quips when his incredible dick’s making a strong case for knighthood. “Are you asking how many bigger guys I’ve taken out? Because I’m not going to tell you that. That’s a third-orgasm conversation.”
“Three, huh?” He tilts his head. “I’d better get to work.”
But instead of resuming his panty-melting thrusts, he freezes, hovering above me so our bodies are almost but not quite touching.
Whereas I’m a sweaty, trembling mess on the brink of coming, he’s holding a rock-solid plank position that maintains the tiny bit of distance between our bodies with zero muscle strain, zero shakiness in his arms, and zero visible effort.
“My god, Gomez,” I mutter. “What are you, Superman?”
He barks a laugh then does the last thing I expect: He dips his head and presses his lips to mine through both of our masks.
It leaves me shocked and turned on and… and charmed, dammit.
So much so that I let go of my hatred for this woman in his life who’s on a pedestal he built for her but will never know the eye-crossing, toe-curling, risk-seeking pleasure of fully clothed outercourse during a murder outing with this man.
I tilt my hips up and brush against his cock, which pulses at the connection.
“Yes, I can handle him.” I shudder as he obeys my silent command and drops out of plank position to return his attention where I need it.
“I’ll make it look like an accident. Tonight was about f-figuring out how to… to… oh my god, Gomez.”
His pace has increased, and I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him to go faster, faster. I don’t care which of us comes first; I just know his big body fits mine so perfectly that I’m not going to last much longer. Hopefully, neither will he.
“Yes. God,” he growls. “Squeeze me with those strong fucking thighs, Morticia.”
“This is why I never skip leg day,” I tell him as I do.
It’s actually to compensate for my unreliable shoulder, but he doesn’t need to know that, and the joke makes him laugh. Then I lock my legs tighter, and he groans in my ear, and it’s not a joke at all anymore.
Yet again, we’re risking getting caught or leaving our DNA at a crime scene, but I’m twisted enough that the danger stokes the fire in my blood, and I have to bite back the scream that threatens to tear from my throat as my orgasm burns through me.
Moments later, Gomez drops his head to my neck again and jerks his hips, coming with a shout that he buries against my skin as he coats the inside of his pants.
He’s still breathing hard when he mumbles into my ear, “Okay, but if I see a news report saying a woman was found dead at this address, I’m going to be so pissed.”
“At me?” I ask once my breathing’s steady enough. “I won’t care. I’ll be dead.”
“No.” He burrows even closer into me. “At myself. For letting you do this.”
Well. That’s enough of that. I use the leg that’s hooked around his ass and his boneless, blissed-out state to flip us over so I’m straddling him. And oh, look at that, my knife’s in my hand, the blade out and pressed under his chin.