Page 22 of Vengeful Lies

But it was everything. No one has permission to make this woman bleed but me.

She throws her hand up, exasperated. “Can you stop looking at me like a creeper and tell me why the fuck I’m here?”

“Are you going to share with me who your client is yet?”

She throws herself back into the leather seat, arms folded over her chest. She hasn’t had one sip of the drink one of my men brought her. She crosses her legs, and a tic jumps in my jaw as I see a flash of red panties.

Jesus Christ, I’m falling from grace if the mere glimpse of underwear can get me off these days. I adjust my crotch.

“Sit here,” I tell her, not liking the way a few of the club members have a clear view of us. I could tell them to leave so we have this space to ourselves, but I’m not accommodating her, and besides, Lord knows what I’ll fucking do to her if left alone. I’m still not sure if I want to kill or fuck her. Both, I think.

“No,” she replies, looking over her shoulder at the others.

“Look at me,” I growl as I take a puff of my cigar and spread my legs wide. Her gaze doesn’t miss the adjustment, and I quite like that. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s just as drawn to me as I am to her.

Hawke’s booming laugh echoes over the space as he entertains two blondes, one on each knee. Dutton is here somewhere, and it’s not often Ford doesn’t follow his twin, but he’s nowhere to be seen tonight.

She looks at her phone as if to check the time. Frustrated by her ignoring me, I stand, looming over her, and circle around the booth. I sit on the wooden table and put my glass of whiskey and cigar down beside me. I push my legs between hers and splay them out, giving me a perfect view of those red lace panties.

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch, and her gaze is unmoving. “I’m not going to kill you tonight,” I tell her.

“That’s nice to hear. Can’t promise you the same thing,” she replies bitterly. My smile is slow and sensual.

“I want you to sit on my cock like a good girl.”

This time, Jewel’s lips curve into a sultry smile, and I’ve known from the moment she walked in with that short little skirt that she was playing a dangerous game with me. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” I ask. I can see by the fire in her gaze and the way her body responds to me when I force myself into the space that she is in.

“And then, can I kill you afterward?” Her tone is overly sweet.

I lean forward with a smile, slowly gliding my rough thumb along her collarbone and up to her jaw. I expect more fight from her, but that calculating gaze is letting me close, most likely because she’s ready to stab me again, but I won’t fall for the same trick twice. I curl my fingers through her hair. The point of her being here was so if any insider is behind this hitwoman’s paycheck, they’ll know I own her now.

But having fun with her in the meantime might release some of this tension that’s been bundled in my balls since first meeting her.

Her fingers twitch, and I can tell she’s contemplating if she should use whatever sneaky little weapon she most likely has on her. “I demand a taste.”

“And what makes you think I’ll give it to you willingly?” she snaps, breathing heavily as I inch my face closer.

My cock throbs at her venomous tone.

I lean in and brush my lips against her jawline. My fist tightens in her hair as my nostrils flare at her light, flowery scent with something deeper and richer beneath, much like her temperament. It’s like the mask of temptation before the true she-devil shows herself. “I think it’s the unwillingness part that makes you want it even more.”

Her body naturally leans into me, and I smirk, satisfied by the reminder that as much as she fights it, she fucking wants me. And if she thought walking in wearing an outfit like this was going to be my undoing, she was correct.

I stand up, adjusting my semi-hard cock at her eye level. I stare down at her come-fuck-me eyes and slightly parted red lips. Rubbing my thumb along her plump bottom lip, I’m mesmerized. Her breath hitches, and I can tell she’s crippled by the tension just as much as I am.

That’s when I notice her hand slowly creeping toward her boot. It happens so quickly. As she reaches for what I’massuming is a hidden knife, I grab her hand. I twist her body and pull her down with me so she’s on my lap, her back against my chest. She lands on my cock so firmly I’m certain I almost puncture a hole through my pants and her skirt. She lets out a lowoomph.

I have her arm pinned to her side with one hand, and my other is wrapped around her throat. I breathe in the scent of her shampoo, intoxicated by the scent. Or maybe it’s the thrill of this woman yet again trying to stab me. Her throat bobs beneath my firm grip.

“It’d be easy for me to break this slender neck of yours,” I warn, holding back a growl as her ass wriggles against my cock. There’s no fucking way she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

I run my nose along her shoulder. Despite having her pinned, there are many ways she could try to fight her way out of this. And although we’re in a room full of people, I’m appreciative of the fact I have my back to them—something I never do—just so none of them can see her flushed, aroused state.

I look at the glossy black wall in front of us. It gives off a bit of a reflection, showing me her expression, but not clearly enough for others on the other side of the room behind us to see.

I can see her peering at me through the shiny wall reflection, barely.

My little toy.

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