Page 46 of Killer Kiss

I paused, watching it, the expensive vehicle out of place in the middle of this shit neighborhood.

It was the exact same car Ophelia drove.

What were the odds of there being two cars the same as hers in the neighborhood tonight? Was she fucking watching me?

I froze, suddenly not wanting to let the redhead in, but she shoved her way past me, and I reminded myself I was working. Yeah, I was getting something out of it tonight as well, but this was my job. I needed money if I was going to live, and this woman was here, willing and waiting for me to give her what we both needed.

So instead of pushing her back out onto the street because it wasn’t her my dick was actually craving, I let her in, leading her up the stairs to my bedroom and chose to forget Ophelia even existed.

“I’m Bec, by the way,” she said from behind me.

It seemed weird to be finally introducing ourselves now that I’d watched her ride her fingers, but if she wanted names, then fine. “Simon,” I lied to her, not wanting my name on her lips for some reason.

“Cute house,” she said as I led her into my room and closed the door.

“No, it’s not.” The house was a fucking shit heap in dire need of repair. But whatever. We weren’t here for interior decorating tips. We were here to fuck.

The second we got in that room; all I could think about was Ophelia standing in here just hours before. The way she’d smelled faintly of something fresh and flowery. The way her gaze had traveled over my body and the pure lust in her eyes before she’d tried to cover it up so I wouldn’t see.

My cock had been so hard, pressed up against her soft belly.

It was her I’d craved ever since that moment, and no other woman was going to quell that ache inside me.

Fuck. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t fuck this woman when it was really Ophelia I wanted beneath me.

I also didn’t really have a choice.

Bec withdrew a small stack of bills out of her purse, some fifties, some hundreds, and placed them down on the top of the dresser.

Fuck, that was a lot of money. I could pay my rent and some. The internal battle waged inside me. Was Ophelia still outside? I couldn’t help myself. I glanced out the open window, spotting her dark car parked a couple of houses down.

Bec thrust the money toward me. “You said five hundred, right?”

I swallowed. “I did.”

“Then kiss me.”

I forced myself to walk toward her. To put my hands gingerly on her hips, even though I didn’t like the way they felt. Ophelia’s hips were higher because she was tall. I’d liked it.

Bec laughed. “You don’t have to be gentle with me. In fact, I don’t want you to be. I like it rough.”

I needed to give her what she wanted. This was my business, and often it was word of mouth that brought women to my door at night. Women talked. They told their friends, and I’d always made an effort to be sure my reputation was that of a good time. I was the man women went to when they wanted to come. I was the man who knew how to coax an orgasm even from the most nervous of clients. I was good at this. I even liked it.

And yet no part of me wanted to kiss this woman.

“Get a fucking grip,” I muttered to myself, Ophelia on my mind. “She’s not your girlfriend.”

“What did you say, baby?” Bec rubbed herself all over me like a cat.

Fuck, I needed that to stop. I pushed her up against the edge of the dresser, and she strained toward me, her fingers at the back of my neck, drawing my head down to kiss her.

I swerved and went for her neck instead. I opened my mouth and licked and sucked her skin but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t do this.

I’d have to give her fucking money back and send her home.

“Oh, that feels so—ouch!”

I pulled back. “Ouch?” What the fuck? I hadn’t even bitten her. There was no way what I was doing at her neck had caused her pain. I wasn’t fucking fourteen with no experience.

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