Page 44 of A Love So Deadly
“My friend?—”
“The one you’re looking for?”
Her eyes widen. “I…”
“Kayla Evans.” I half smile, coiling the rope around one hand, only to loosen it and do it all over again. It’s ritualistic; it soothes. “You want to know what happened to her.”
“She—Kayla—” She stops and her gaze follows my every movement. “She started working for you and she changed. Then she disappeared.”
Like she was killed and erased from existence. I don’t react. “We’ve had a variation of this conversation before. You don’t really remember.” A flicker passes over her face, and I come close, stroking my fingers down the side of her cheek. “And yet it keeps coming back. You won’t remember this, either. Not fully. It’ll be a dream.”
“Wanna bet?”
I kiss her, biting her lip, hard enough to make it throb, to just break the skin. I can taste the blood instantly, and it shoots through me like a lightning bolt. I lick it to heal it and then suck on her lip before finally I releasing her.
She sways.
“I don’t know what happened to her, this Ms. Evans. I never met her. She probably ran away or was kidnapped while off the job. An accident. It happens all the time.” I say it in the soft tones that’ll help her forget. But this is fucking Elliot.
“But…”
“I have nothing to do with the entertainment and news side. I run the business from the top. There are lower managers that handle the hiring and employees.” I pause. “Are you really working for me because of your friend, or do you have another motive for trying to pry?”
She frowns. “No. I want to know where my friend is.”
Dead. She’s more than likely dead. “I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m done talking about it now, just like I’m done talking about Benicio or fucking Vincent.” I search her face. The throbin the air that hikes up the tension is getting too much to ignore. “Aren’t you tired of being alone, Monty?”
“Who said I’m alone?” Instead of coming to me, she backs away. I’ve dropped all my tricks. There’s just us. And the need that tries to pull us together.
I slide the rope over my hands. “Your face. You’re lonely.”
“And you’re the answer?”
“I’m the distraction. Take off your dress.”
She walks up to me, each step deliberate until she’s right in front of me. Her brows pinch in the middle as she studies my face. “What are you?”
“What do you think?”
Reaching behind herself, she undoes the clasp to her dress and then pushes the straps from her shoulders. The dress pools like the midnight sky around her ankles, and she is perfection. Soft, round, with curves I could sink my teeth into.
She’s not wearing a bra, either, and her nipples are dusty pink and pale, and I can see the lips of her cunt through the thin white lace of her panties.
My body jerks.
“Maybe I don’t want to think.”
“That’s wise of you, Monty.” I motion for her to turn, and I come up behind her, sliding a hand over her flesh, down over her breasts to her panties where I slip right in, through her wet flesh. I part her lips and push into the furnace I need within. She’s tight, wet, and alive, and I finger her softly.
But it’s hard to remain gentle with her for long, so I get a little rougher, pushing another finger in. It’s electric, touching her. If anything could make my heart come back to life and beat like it was human, it’d be her.
She sighs, head back, and I lean in and lick her throat, suckling just enough to make her vibrate and moan.
“Panties off,” I say, pulling out to leave her panting, flushed rosy, and delicious. I want her on the verge of cascading pleasure.“Now.”
She does that, leaving her heels on, and without a word I move about her. She’s stunning. Her cunt a work of art, tits perfection. I want to throw out my kink needs and just fuck her senseless. But something in her stillness whispers she wants this, too. Instinctively. Like I’ve tapped into her center.
So I move, studying her, centering myself. I won’t touch, not even with the rope, until I’ve learned the slopes and valleys of her body.
