Page 6 of Skin Deep

Alvin freaked out, kicking and screaming through his gag, swimming in midair in a desperate yet fruitless attempt to get away. He wasn’t going anywhere, not with the way they had him secured.

“This is for Jamina Gordon,” I said, and went to work.

I’d seen plenty of men die. Most of them went one of two ways. Either they went screaming, crying, and begging, or they chose the silent and stoic route. Alvin went the first way.

I went numb as I sawed between Alvin’s pasty white legs, trying not to think too hard about what I was doing. He deserved it, and worse, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed it. Alvin stayed conscious through the whole thing and even a second or two after, just long enough for me to present the bloody pound of flesh I’d collected. Then his eyes rolled back and he went limp, quickly bleeding out.

Warrick grabbed a waste bucket and held it out to me.

I spat on the dead pedophile before dropping his junk in the bucket. “Thanks.”

Intense blue eyes rolled over me and I swore I saw sparks like lightning in them as he took in my bloodstained body. “My pleasure.”

Was he checking me out? It sure as hell seemed like he was. I should’ve been disgusted. After all, I was covered in blood. This guy had drugged and kidnapped me. He was the last person I should be getting a hard-on for. And yet…

“There’s a jerry-rigged shower on the other side of that wall,” he said. “No hot water, but there’s decent pressure.”

I arched an eyebrow. “’Scuse me?”

“You have a pedophile’s blood all over you,” he said. “That puts you at risk for HBV, HBC, and HIV. Plus, you’re wearing evidence. I’m not letting you walk out of here covered in the blood of a man we’ve kidnapped and tortured.”

I looked him up and down again. “You some kinda doctor or somethin’?”

“A surgeon, actually,” he replied and jerked his chin toward the nearby doorway. “Shower.”

I smirked. Well, at least the night wasn’t going to beboring. “Lead the way.”

“Wait a minute.” The other young man frowned at me as I walked past him. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Start the clean up,” Warrick told him.

“By myself?”

Warrick shrugged. “Xavier’s busy being our lookout, so I guess so.”

“Fuck.” The kid kicked the stand.

He’d acted like the shower was some third world situation, but I’d done eight years up at Mansfield Correctional; I’d seen worse. At least the room he took me to was clean. Someone had done a halfway decent job of hooking up a series of shower heads in a line, and there were half walls between them. Not sparkling clean, but not filthy either.

He set up over in the corner and stood there, arms crossed and watching me like he was daring me to tell him to fuck off. Joke was on him. I’d taken too many prison showers to be shy.

I pulled my tank over my head while he shook out a garbage bag and held it out. He didn’t even try to hide the way his pretty blue eyes slid down my chest and stomach in appreciation, taking in all the ink. I smirked when his eyes settled between my legs and a soft, pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. My dick started to take notice of all the attention we were getting, too.

Any other day, I’d have been wary of someone claiming to be a surgeon, especially after what he’d done to me, but I couldn’t say I blamed him. If I were in his situation, I wouldn’t have treated me any differently. He hadn’t done any serious harm. We were allies, at least for the time being, which meant the chances he’d stab me were low…but not zero.

Chances that he’d put out? The odds seemed to be sliding more in my favor by the minute, and I was down for that.

I looked him over a little slower. Back in the day, I’d fooled around with gals, gays, and theys across the board before I married Maya. The two of us had played with others a few times. Threesomes. Foursomes. Swinger parties. I wasn’t a stranger to men, even if I’d never dated one seriously.

But he sure was tempting. He had that lean muscle, a swimmer’s physique, they called it, long, delicate fingers, and a nice, round ass that looked like it was made for bouncing off of. There was also something appealing about how small he was—small enough that I could easily manhandle him, and he seemed the type to let me.

“You got a last name, Warrick?”

His eyes ticked up to meet mine. “Why? So you can blackmail me tomorrow?”

“I figure if you’re going to stare at my dick, I should know your full name. Unless you want to buy me dinner first?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m a professional.”

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