Page 19 of Plain Jade

People needed to be killed and dealt with, and death was what he was good at. Nothing else.

Jade was good. He was not. They lived in two different worlds, and yet he found himself leaning over her and pressing his lips against her ear.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“No. That felt … wonderful.”

“Good.”

Leave.

Fucking asshole.

Prick.

Leave.

Braxton pulled out of her pussy, and he couldn’t help but look at his cum as it drizzled out of her entrance. He wanted to push it back in, to make her keep it all inside her.

Leave.

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he picked Jade up in his arms and carried her through to the bathroom. She was going to be the death of him.

Chapter Six

Her mystery man had run her a bath. He’d put salts inside and then helped her climb inside the bathtub. For some reason, she had expected him to leave without a word. Whenever they were intimate, the first thing he tried to do was escape, to get as far away from her as possible. She had come to expect it.

Only, he surprised her as he began to remove his clothes. Again, she had noticed that she was always naked and he always had to be fully dressed.

Part of her expected him to climb in the tub with his pants and shirt on. Only, the pants came off, as did the shirt. He wore a pair of black boxer briefs, and they came off as well.

She couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight of him. Her man, if she could even call him that, was heavily muscled and covered in ink. She had noticed ink around his neck, and it was at the cuffs of his shirt as well. His arms had ink, as did his chest and back. It wasn’t completely covered, she was still able to see his skin peeking from beneath it, but that didn’t matter. It was artwork, and there was so much of it, she couldn’t discern one design from another.

She moved out of the way as he climbed into the tub opposite her.

Licking her lips, she had no idea what to say. They hadn’t ever gotten to this point. He always left, and she was used to the questions and confusion, not knowing what to do or say.

Like now, words failed her. She didn’t know what to do to fill the silence.

Was the silence even awkward? She had no idea.

Glancing around her bathroom, she went to her next comfortable line of thought—cleaning. She didn’t have a clue why she thought about cleaning. Her mother always told her that a clean home was a happy home. She didn’t know if that was some kind of slogan, or merely her mother’s mantra. Either way, it was working because she was feeling a lot happier by thinking about cleaning.

“How is your pussy?” he asked.

That brought her right out of her comfort zone with a heavy thwack.

“Huh?” she asked, a little confused.

“Your pussy. The last time I … you were hurt.”

“Oh, ugh, it feels fine.”

He smiled. “What are you thinking?”

“You don’t want to know.”

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