Page 23 of Blood
Freedom, excitement, and arousal.
His body slumps, and I’m forced to catch his weight. I can’t have his friend hearing.
Shit, he’s heavy.
The flashlight in his right hand drops. My eyes widen as I watch it fall in slow motion. My breath catches.Shit.Relief fills me at the same time as air inflates my lungs when the torch lands silently on the living room rug.
I smile as I tug his dead weight out of the room and into the dining room. My mind wanders to one of the women upstairs and all the trouble I gave her over the decor. I hate that fucking rug.
I owe Sam an apology and a shopping trip with my card. She can buy whatever the fuck she wants.
My girl did good.
My girl.
My eyes slip closed for just a second. I shouldn’t have thought of her, not while I’m . . . busy. The cotton pajama pants I have on start to shift. My hard cock stands out in the loose-fitting pants.
Not the time.
Dropping the body carefully, I rip the mask off.I don’t know him.I wasn’t expecting to, but I need to make sure that this break-in is random. The only way to do that is to get answers. Thankfully, I only need one to be breathing for that.
Reaching down, I allow myself a second to grab and squeeze my hard-on. Later. First, I need answers.
The other robber is calling out for his friend. His voice rings out through the lower level.
“Mark! Mark!”
I frown at his volume. He’s not being quiet. Realization dawns. I came back early. They didn’t know I was home. So they’re not here for me. Then what the fuck do they want?
I’d been joking earlier, but really, what are the odds they come here?
My eyes drift to the ceiling and the ladies above. This needs to be quick and quiet.
The knife is slippery and wet, but I’ve never been more in my element. I twist the handle over and over as I approach the kitchen through the laundry room. The second man is distracted because he’s looking for his friend, so I can approach him from behind.
Maybe it doesn’t need to be too quick.
The blade catches the moonlight before it cuts through the jacket covering his arm. I know I got skin when he hisses. He whips around frantically.
Hidden in the shadows, I stay out of view, bathing in the fear that pours off him. He should be afraid. I’m nowhere near done.
Stepping out of the darkness, I swing for him again. This time, I catch him across the face. His balaclava does nothing to stop the blade.
The beam of his flashlight blinds me for a second, and it’s all he needs. He’s quicker than I expected.
“Ugh.”
The little fucker’s shoulder connects with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, and the force sends us both into the kitchen cabinet. The doors clang, and a jar on the counter shatters when my arm shoots back to steady myself.
Glass explodes across the tiled floor.
I stab wildly at his back with shallow strikes that force him to retreat. The glass crunches under his boots, but the shards cut and embed in my bare feet when I follow. Our blood mixes on the white floor.
Fucker!
Slouched forward, he’s injured but not dying, not yet at least. I don’t know if he senses what’s coming or doesn’t like his odds, but his eyes flit to the back door. Not a chance. To get there, he has to pass me.
I sneer.I dare you.
