Page 41 of Three
“Did I…hurt you? Force you?” The words taste like bile on my tongue.
“What the fuck?” He turns toward the door, and I reflexively place my fingers on his arm. Ramiel flinches back, and I lift my hand up to placate him.
This is not automatic reflexes. This is something else. Only a few minutes ago he begged me to touch him, and now he’s acting like my fingers on his skin disgust him.
“You didn’t hurt me, Hunter, okay?” He swallows, his eyes darting around the room, and for once, I can’t read him. “I’ll call you when I find Malcom’s location. There might be a connection to you. Art gave me…another lead to follow.”
“What lead?”
“I’ll let you know. Now I have to go.” His words sound final.
Even so, I have to force my body still as I watch him reaching the door and turning the knob.
“Keep me posted. My life is on the line here.” My voice is deeper and rougher than I intended it to be.
He nods without turning around, leaving me there with a head full of questions and annoyance.
six
RAMIEL
I’m paralyzed.
I can’t fucking move a finger. While on the inside a storm is raging. My pulse is galloping. My chest is so tight, I want to rip my shirt off and throw it outside my car window. But again, paralyzed. My hands are not cooperating. My skin is on fire like a thousand ants are crawling up and down my body. In my mind, small little explosions keep happening, and an increasing pain is pushing between my eyes.
I. Feel. Everything.
I’m suddenly aware of how warm my breath is. The smoothness of the leather steering wheel under my fingers, the softness of the seat under my butt, and the ache on the palm of my hand.
The faint stir of satisfaction still lingers in my belly from the best sex I’ve ever had. The way he took me, controlled me, dominated me was gloriously perfect. Chef’s kiss.
But, I could still feel Hunterafterwe fucked. Instead of turning numb again, I…felt him. His hard cock sliding inside of me at a leisurely pace, hitting my already sensitive prostate. Each small, cold, round bead of his cheap bracelet pressing against the base of my throat. His slowing heart beating against my back.
His skin was so soft and smooth under my fingers.
For a moment, I thought it was a fluke, a temporary boost caused by the sheer ecstasy he gave me, but I was just postponing my freak-out moment. Which arrived soon after, when I realized I was sore.
And when I grabbed my gloves? His hand touched mine, and it was so blazing hot, it almost burned my skin. A prickling sensation darted from the tips of my fingers to my arm. I had to leave.
These long-lasting feelings aren’t normal. They usually quickly disappear after sex. Now thirty minutes later, I can still feel the breeze coming from the open window on my face, smell the pine air freshener Michael put in my car, taste Hunter’s intimate scent on my tongue. I’m overwhelmed by so many sensations, my body has short-circuited and needs time to reboot.
My senses have decided to stay. Why? Where is the bloodthirsty succubus bitch?
How is it possible? What does it mean? Is it because the sex was out of this world? Am I still riding the afterglow? Or am I cured? Did Hunter cure me with his dick? I snort at my idiotic thought, but then a frightening one takes its place.
How long will it last? Will it last? Do I want it to last?
“Fuck!” I gasp. I can’t fucking breathe as panic tightens around my chest. My body finally decides to follow my instructions, and I turn toward the car door and push my head out of the window, attempting to inhale large gulps of air.
After leaving Sly Fox, I drove like a bat out of hell until my body forced me to stop. I have no idea where I am. The suburban-lookingarea has few streetlamp posts. My eyes focus on the rusty playground and dark trees in front of me. The old swing is making a clanking sound every time a burst of wind comes around. The scent of dirt and pollution doesn’t help to slow my breathing down, but the memory of Hunter’s warm, hard, dominating body pressed against mine does. The hard curves, soft plains, smooth skin, and warm, strong arms enveloping me.
Since I met him, he’s felt different. I don’t usually waste my time with people outside my family. My hookups are quick and meaningless. But with him, I’m enjoying it…getting to know him. His case is fascinating. I don’t like puzzles or detective stories or mysteries—that’s Michael and Uri’s hobby. What I like is facts, to find those hidden sinful truths and then stuff the donors’ throats with them—with my weapon of choice.
But he’s the first person I’ve met who does what my brothers and I do—kill bad people—with no regrets about it.
This newdevelopmentis almost certainly connected. To him. But nothing has to change between us.
I admit, pushing Hunter to the edge and then watching him lose that stern mask he wears gave me more pleasure than I ever anticipated. And I want more of it. More of his cock and his bossy, filthy ways. And he was right. Nobody has ever reached that deep inside of me, or spanked me that good, or treated me so roughly and then gently—like he didn’t want to part from me until he made sure I was okay.
