Page 2 of Fitch

“Hello,” I said, my voice deep.

He had floppy brown hair, sinful lips, and sultryplease fuck me daddyeyes. He slow-blinked, and those damn lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Please tell me you’re cruising,” he murmured. “If you’re after trouble, you know I’m your boy.”

God, why did he have to call himself that?

Boy.

I didn’t even need to answer, because he stepped in closer, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and I swear he purred. “I know how you like it,” he murmured. “Because that’s how I like it too.”

Damn.

Then the little punk batted his eyelashes at me. “Every boy needs his daddy.”

My breath caught and my blood ran hot. This kid thought he was in control here and I needed to remind him who he was dealing with. I took his chin between my thumb and forefinger and made him look up at me. “What I want,” I said, voice gruff, “is for you to do what you’re told.”

His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. “Oh, I’ll do anything you tell me. You know the price; back room or alley, depends how fast you want it.” Then he hummed. “Or three hundred dollars for the night and I’ll doanythingyou want.”

Oh, those were dangerous words.

I’ll do anything you want.

Dangerous, indeed.

“You shouldn’t say that,” I told him. “To me, or anyone else. They might take it as permission to hurt you.”

He had the hide to smirk, his chin still in my hold. “You could never hurt me. Well, not in a bad way. I bet you could hurt me real good.”

Christ.

Oh, I wanted to do things to this boy. His smart mouth, that mischief and daring in his eyes that was begging for punishment.

“Three hundred dollars,” I agreed. “My place.”

“Your place?” He didn’t look too sure now.

“You said all night.”

He seemed to consider this, and then out of nowhere, another young guy appeared. He snapped a photograph of my face, then pocketed his phone before I could blink. “Collateral. Return him unharmed and the photo gets deleted.”

Now it was my turn to consider the terms. Given he was about to leave with me, a stranger for the most part, for the sole purpose of sex, it was probably fair. Normally the transactions I’d had with him happened in back alleys or back rooms, once in a cheap hotel room, but if I wanted this guy all night—and I really did want him for the whole night and well into tomorrow—then I wanted to take it back to my place.

“Fine.”

He looked up at me, smiling shyly, and batted his eyelashes again. “Lead the way.”

I flagged down a passing taxi, and we climbed in. I gave my address, which the boy clearly heard because he took out his phone and texted it to someone named Ky.

“Was that his name?” I asked. “The guy back there?”

He nodded. “We look out for each other.”

That was fair enough. The world was a terrible place, full of people who used and abused every chance they got.

I should know.

I saw the worst kinds of people in my job, hearing about all the horrors they inflicted. So who was I to question this guy’s need for personal safety?

I was careful to not say much, with the cabbie pretending not to watch us in his rear-vision mirror, and my company for the night seemed to understand this.

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