Page 39 of Edge of Control

Jace Holloway camefour times last night.

Back-to-back, the horny bastard. It was like he stayed permanently hard between blowing each load.

I knew because I watched it all happen from across the street.

I’d snuck back into the office space. I had tracked down the maintenance worker and memorized his schedule now. I knew when he’d be coming onto the floor. There were two of them, likely hired for safety reasons, and they never strayed far from each other. They also never lingered.

I watched Jace jerk himself off. Spill cum all over his belly. Shoot it onto the floor. He even licked some of it with his fingers.

Horny, horny boy.

I wondered if he had been thinking of me each time he climaxed. Was he picturing me on my knees for him? Swallowing every last drop he had to give me? I watched himuntil he shook his limp dick dry and stood up, looking at himself like, “fuck, that was a lot.” Was his sex drive always this high? Was it because of me?

I didn’t jerk off that night. I wanted to keep myself controlled, contained. I just wanted to watch. Admire. Observe.

I had killed Julie only an hour earlier. Her body wouldn’t be found until the morning, when her boyfriend showed up to walk with her to school. I had time.

And she was found. Just like I thought she would. Jace had been called. Good thing he had his fun the night before because today would have been the complete opposite for him.

I expected him to go home after he visited the crime scene. Or maybe back to the office. It surprised me when he didn’t go to the subway station but walked past it. Down Thirteenth Street. Making a left. Turning a right. We were in the heart of the Meatpacking district. Far from his apartment. He couldn’t have been going home. He had his eyes glued to his phone. Who was he texting? No messages were appearing in mine.

Interesting.

I followed him all the way to a sushi spot. I kept at least a block behind him, cap sitting low on my head, a dark black jacket on that might as well have worked as camouflage in the dense concrete jungle. He waited outside the restaurant for a few minutes before he perked up, waved at someone walking down the street toward him.

Another man.

Someone dressed up, like he were going to the MetGala and not to a chill dinner spot. He wore a suit. What a fucking dumbass.

Jace shook his hand. The man leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. I could practically sense the awkwardness radiating from the both of them. So this was a first date. Jace was actually talking to other men, pursuing other men. What the fuck?

Anger flared inside me like a muzzle flash popping in the dead of night. Bright, hot, deadly.

These two weren’t even a good match. Jace was much more laid-back. He liked to lounge at home with one hand down his briefs and the other scrolling through his phone, a couple of dirty dishes piled up in the sink. He didn’t make his bed. He left his shoes in random places in his apartment. He got his groceries and ignored them for the week as they rotted in the fridge, and he ordered from his favorite Mexican place for takeout every day.

The suit guy seemed like the exact opposite. He had an expensive watch, and his hair wascoifed. As if that was even a thing. His clothes looked like they had been freshly picked up from the dry cleaners. He didn’t smile, and when he did, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Not like Jace. His smiles were genuine. Captivating. It was one of the things that drew me to him, aside from the intense physical chemistry. There was a glow to his smile that lit up even the darkest corners of the bathhouse we played in. For someone like me, who’d become so used to a permanent midnight, having a little sunshine was a welcome change.

And this jackass wasn’t going to take that away from me.

No one was.

They walked into the restaurant. I crossed the street so I could get a better view. It was a tiny spot with a bar inside. They were sat up against the window.

Perfect.

I stood next to a newspaper stand. Grabbed a magazine and pretended to be interested in whatever the fuck Jennifer Aniston was doing these days, shooting glances to my true focus.

Jace already looked bored. Stiff. Nothing like how he appeared when he was with me. The other guy appeared to be trying his best. He leaned forward, swirled his beer, made some kind of expression that seemed adjacent to a grin. His expensive gold watch with its dark blue band caught the light. Some kind of Hubert, from my guess. I liked watches. I appreciated the art of a good timepiece. This douchebag had likely bought it because it was the most expensive option they had.

Asshole.

He’d look good with that same hand dangling off a mattress, blood seeping into the sheets. It would be quick. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe I’d take my time with him. He had zero connection to the blackmail ring but he had all the connection to me. To Jace.

I couldn’t have that.

A wolf woke inside me. It snapped at the cobra that poisoned me with anxiety and panic, latching its jaws around its neck and snapping down.

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