I feel a smile crawl over my mouth, take shape on my lips and consume my face.
“I already told you, Miss Holiday. The taboo turns me on.” I lean in close, sniffing the sweet scent of perfume that clings to the side of Audra's face. The best part of it all is that underneath, there's the acrid taint of blood. A coppery finish hanging heavy and rotten on the breath of flowers. “The dirty,” I whisper into her ear, stirring her red hair with my breath. Audra gasps, but she doesn't move, doesn't pull away from my touch as my hand comes out and slides over the smoothness of her collarbone. “The filthy.” My fingers surround the fullness of Audra's breast, encircling her hardened nipple and putting just the right amount of pressure on the tender flesh to draw a small whimper from her lips. “The nasty.” I increase my hold, squeezing harder, enjoying the flush of red in Audra's cheeks. “The man your mother fucking warned you about,” I whisper, my voice descending dangerously close to a growl, “is me.” I tighten my fingers, crushing Audra's nipple in a vise grip, drawing a small scream from her throat. I slide over to her, slacks slick against the polished wood floors, and insert myself between Audra's legs.
The dress comes down, the thin fabric giving way to Audra's heaving breasts, baring her reddened nipples to the cool air of my kitchen. Before she can utter a response, I drop my mouth to those luscious tits, taking the stiff flesh of her nipples between my teeth. When I bite, I don't bite lightly, crushing smooth skin and aching areolas in my teeth. Audra slams her head back into the wall, fingers clawing at my hair, pulling my face to her chest.
It's odd, but … I want to have sex with this woman. Not as a client. Not at the moment. But just because. The last time I slept with a woman because I simply wanted to was with Isadora. And before that, Aliyah. Aliyah who reminds me of Robbie – or rather vice versa. Just the name Robbie ringing in my head like a curse makes me pull back and take a breath, touch a hand to my dark hair and sit back on my ass. Not like I'm in control. Not like I'm Lucas Carter anymore. But like I'm Luke. Luke. Fucking Luke.
“We have to get rid of this body.” The words sound hollow, slipping from my throat and echoing around the kitchen. I don't like hollow. I let the anger fill me, lift me to my feet, and draw me back into the living room. I don't bother looking to see if Audra will follow; she will.
“I'm sorry I brought him here,” she snarls at me, stepping into the room with her dress fixed back in place. “I don't know what I was thinking.” The corner of my lip twitches up.
“You were thinking,” I tell her as I stare down at the afghan wrapped corpse. “That you needed me.”
“Mrs. Braxton.” I let my voice ooze into the phone, fucking Clarice's ear with her own name. Audra Holiday has disappeared into the bathroom, not at my request but to freshen up as she so delicately put it. At least it gives me a moment to schmooze my client without her kelp green eyes watching me, her darkness bleeding into the room and igniting mine into a frenzied tempest. I hear more than see Clarice licking her lips, twisting her finger in her bleach blonde hair.
“Mr. Carter,” she says, voice dripping with false elegance and barely borrowed composure. Must be a dinner party or something going on in the background. I glance at the clock. It's indescribably late, but the Braxtons are … an interesting couple. Just as I'm an unremarkable fixture in their palatial nightmare of a home, so are their swinger parties. Their BDSM jaunts. Their nude masquerade balls (don't ask). I assume something like that is taking place – sex mixed in with politics, high society gossip, and wrinkled old men with trophy wives on their arms. I frown.
“Are you busy tonight, Mrs. Braxton?” If she is, I'll have to come up with a different plan. Or rather, if all of the busy is taking place at her house. I listen to the sharp intake of breath, the rustle of fabric, and the sound of a door closing. Privacy. If she's looking for privacy to speak with me, that means I still have her wrapped around my little finger. At the same time, it looks like my plan may not be entirely plausible.
“Why? Do you miss me?” I do my best not to scowl. If I let myself go down that path, there's no telling how deep I'll go. I don't want to end up like Audra, waking up with blood on my hands and no idea of what I've done. I always know my sins. If I can't be intimate with my dark side, what do I have left?
When the silence between us has stretched long enough to make things uncomfortable, Clarice begins grasping at straws.
“Fuck me with your hard, thick dick, Lucas Carter. And strangle me while you're doing it. I want to see stars.” Clarice giggles, not like a twenty something trophy wife who spends her days attending charity events and spending her husbands absurdly vast fortune, but like a teenage girl who's been caught with her boyfriend's hand up her shirt. I truly despise Clarice Braxton.