Page 5 of Bitter Arrangement

God, I want him to call me every terrible name he can think of while fucking me from behind and grabbing my hair like I’m a goddamn pony.

“More,” I gasp, so close I can barely stand it. “More, please, more.”

“Listen to you begging already. You’re going to melt on my big dick, baby. I’m going to shove my fingers in your mouth and make you suck them while I stretch you wide on my cock, over and over again, until you’re shaking and soaking the whole bed. That’s right, baby, keep going, you filthy fucking girl, you bad fucking slut, touching your slick pussy for your husband. You’re in my bed, in my shirt, and in a month, you’re going to be riding my big cock. Now come for me, baby, and say my fucking name.”

“Oh, SHIT,” I gasp, back arching as the orgasm builds and hits a peak, and I open my mouth to give him what I want, that name ringing on my lips, Alexan, Alexan?—

Instead, I bite down on my lip to keep from screaming it out, as I have the best orgasm of my entire life.

He moans as I finish on my fingers, and oh my god, I’m pretty sure he just came too.

I lie there in a strange man’s bed wearing a strange man’s shirt and feeling a sudden overwhelming sense of post-orgasm shame.

“Well, that was unexpected,” I say over the sound of his heavy breathing.

“You look incredible, baby,”he whispers as I climb out of the bed.“I’ll be seeing you soon. Next time, you’ll say my name.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next time.” I head over to my discarded clothes and do my best to get them back on with the maximum amount of dignity possible. Which isn’t much, all things considered. “Look, that was fun and also pretty weird, but our marriage is just a formality. We’re not actually, you know, going to be husband and wife.”

There’s silence. I pause once I’ve got my stuff back on, his shirt tucked under one arm. I should hang it back up or maybe toss it in a hamper—but no, I came in here, I got myself off, and I’m keeping a prize.

I wait another few seconds for him to respond, but there’s nothing.

The red LEDs are still glowing in the ceiling.

I give it a little wave and blow a kiss.

“See you in a month,” I tell him, “and I’m keeping the shirt.”

Then I get the hell out of there with my new prize bundled under one arm before I do more stupid crap, though I’m pretty sure there’s no way I can top what just happened.

Chapter2

Alexan

Six weeks until the wedding.

It takesme ten minutes to break into the senator’s email, another five to crack his Instagram password, six more to find his alternate Snapchat username, and three to download all his direct messages.

Including the extremely graphic sexual exchanges between him and various escorts, e-girls, and OnlyFans models.

For some reason, Senator Michaelson sure loves describing his penis in agonizing, exaggerated detail.

I wonder how his wife is going to feel about her beloved husband describing his genitals as “thicker than a redwood and longer than a football field” to a woman no older than his college-aged daughter.

Once all that rotten information is saved on my secure hard drive, I quickly cover my tracks and make sure there’s no way anyone will trace the hack back to me.

I finish up by shooting a quick, encrypted message to the Mantis, letting them know that I’m ready to send over all the information.

The car door opens. I close my laptop lid and look in the rearview as my boss, Tigran Sarkissian, gets into the back. We’re technically related, though I think it’s very distant, and we only got to know each other when I was hired to replace his former personal guard and driver. He’s the second most powerful man in the Armenian Brotherhood, a massive, sprawling crime syndicate that controls all of our hometown of Baltimore.

He nods at me, lips pressed together in a tight smile.

“Working again?” he asks, nodding at the computer.

“Just doing some digging for the Black Mantis.”

He grunts, smile fading. “I’m surprised you do jobs for those vicious fucks.”

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