Page 9 of Can't Stop
My heart soars when he mentions one of my newest treasures. Dalton is always game to do what I want, but sometimes he requires a little coaxing. I like it best when he willingly throws my kinks into the mix.
I scramble off the side of the bed and pull Raul from my bag. After placing him on the side table so that his little glass eyes can watch my man work my body, I step into Dalton. He sits on the edge of the mattress with his hands between his knees. His fingertips brush my shirt hem, gripping that thin edge and raising it until his breath whispers over my bare breasts. He dips lower, nipping my stomach and lashing my skin with his tongue.
“What are you thinking about?” I whisper.
“That woman in the front office,” he growls against my skin.
Instead of feeling jealous, I moan and run my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Because he isn’t thinking about fucking that woman. He’s thinking about killing her.
“How would you do it?” I push his head lower, and he drags his warm tongue over my hip bone before lowering my shorts.
He smirks against my skin, then admires my pussy before putting a voice to his imagined fantasy. As he talks, he dips his fingers into my warmth, teasing my clit and making everything slippery with desire.
“First and foremost, I’d make sure Van Gogh is there to witness it, just for her sideways remark,” he says. “Then I’d tie her to the chair and break open a vein. Not enough to kill her, mind you. Just enough to make everything red and spread a little panic through her soul.”
I imagine her blood, how it would make everything so slippery. “Keep going,” I beg.
His fingers pick up speed, running faster, harder circles over that sensitive place. “Once she’s good and terrified, I’ll bring you into the room. I’ll strip you down, bend you over, and push Raul into your tight little asshole, all while she watches.”
“Fuck yes.” I roll my hips, chasing the pleasure he tempts me with. “Make me come.”
“I’ll make you?—”
A knock at the door silences us. We freeze and stare at the window to the right of it, wondering who in their right mind would bother us when it’s nearly midnight. Dalton looks at my clothes on the floor, but there’s no time to dress. The knock comes again, and it’s a little louder this time.
“The knife,” he whispers, and I nod and pull my hunting knife from my pack before moving to the other side of the bed and dropping behind it, leaving only my face exposed. If I have to charge someone naked, fine, but they don’t get to look at my goodies for free unless I want them to. And whoever this is doesn’t have that privilege.
Dalton creeps to the door and peers through the peephole. His shoulders droop immediately.
“Who is it?” I whisper.
He sighs and steps away from the door. “Put your clothes on. It’s your little friend.”
I like Samuel, but his timing is not the best. I’ll give Dalton that much. Still, it’s not like we can’t politely shoo him away. We don’t have to be dicks to him.
After I pull on my clothes, Dalton opens the door. Samuel offers a friendly smile, complete with a wave. Dalton returns neither gesture.
“Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” he says with a shake of the bottle in his hands. “Figured I’d see if you guys wanted to share a drink. It’s just some cheap whiskey I picked up on my travels, but it’s good enough for a nightcap.”
“I think we’re good for the night, thanks.” Dalton tries to close the door, but I bolt forward and wrench it open.
Forcing a smile, I motion him into our room. “Sorry, he’s a bit tired. He gets rude when he hasn’t had a nap.” I pin Dalton with a glare as I lead Samuel into our accommodations.
Look, I get it. He wants to be alone with me, and I want that as well, but we’re talking about the surgeon who will repair my ailing baby. We need to play nice and get on his good side, especially if we hope to get this done at a price we can afford: free.
“If you guys need to go to bed?—”
“Nonsense,” I say, waving off Samuel’s comment.
Dalton dies a little inside, but he stomps over to the bed and flops down without any other argument. This is really throwing a stick into his spokes, but we’re almost to Florida. Once Samuel patches up Van Gogh, things can go back to normal. Until then, I’ll just have to continue navigating this very tense situation.
Chapter Five
Dalton
I hate everything about him, from his perfect appearance to his smooth voice. He fucking sucks, and now he can add cock-blocking to his list of transgressions. Thankfully, the whiskey bottle is nearly empty now. I’ve been chugging the shit to hurry this little shindig along.
While Rayna and Mr. Perfect have been poring over her small taxidermy collection, I’ve been sitting on the edge of the bed and stewing. A small part of my soul knows that I’m being silly, that Rayna is loyal and I have nothing to fear. A larger part of my soul wants nothing more than to rid the world of this man, if for no other reason than he’s looked at my bones a little too long. He smiles at her a little too brightly.
