“Huh.” Brent doesn’t say anything else. He just looks at me all creepy, so when the elevator finally arrives, I’m relieved to step inside.
“I have to go.” I try to stay polite.
“Right.” Brent gives me a smarmy smile. “I’m sure you have plenty of other clients that need the... personal touch.”
I shiver. I thought Ashcroft was exaggerating about his kids, but seeing Brent up close, now I’m not so sure. That guy is all kinds of creepy.
EIGHT
VAUGHN
After Keely turns me down, I spent the rest of the day in a temper, trying like hell to figure out what the fuck just went wrong. I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend. And even if she did, that’s never made a difference to a chick before -- the ones with a man back at home spread their legs just as fast as anyone else.
I can’t get her out of my head. Every line I gave her, she shot right back at me. She’s quick, edgy—but also demure. Only her blush betrayed her desire.
And then there’s the Ashcroft question. I tell myself it’s a coincidence, plenty of guys around with the same name, but something haunts me, telling me that there’s more to this than I know. I knew my secrets would catch up to me. I just didn’t think it would happen like this.
And I fucking hate being in the dark, just about as much as I hate chasing pussy that won’t give it up and fuck.
I get a text from an unknown number that evening.
Your target is leaving Cedars Sinai hospital. Don’t delay.
There’s no name, but I know right away it’s about Keely. Who the hell is the guy who hired me? Why would anyone want to fuck with her? She’s not the kind of girl to make enemies. What could she have done?
I pull over by the hospital parking lot just in time to see her pull out of the garage in her boring-ass Civic. I slip into the lane behind her. It’s easy to keep track since LA traffic is bumper to bumper, and when she makes a turn and parks on a side-street, I’m right there behind her.
Where are you going, gorgeous?
I watch her head across the street to the wide-open entrance of the LA County Museum of Art.
Seriously? It’s a Friday night, and this girl wants to wander around looking at squiggles and piles of rock?
Anyone else, I would quit right now and go find some easy suck at the bar, but I remember that flush on her cheeks when I talked about lapping her cunt and the dazed look in her eyes.
She’ll flush like that when I’m screwing her hard against the bathroom sink, watching her come her brains out in the mirror as I pound into her dripping wet channel.
Dammit.
I head inside after her. She wanders the main galleries, looking at exhibits, then takes a seat on a bench in front of this one painting. It’s abstract, huge slashes of color, but the way Keely is gazing at it, you’d think she was looking at God.
I want her to look up at me like that -- with my cock shoved deep in her mouth.
“Hey.” I slide onto the bench next to her, enjoying the way she gasps, almost jumping right out of her seat.
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” I lean closer. “You owe me dinner.”
She turns back to the painting across from us, her eyes fixating on a slice of red running through its center. “I said no.”
“Why?” I counter, trailing a fingertip down the side of her throat. She shivers under my touch, her breathing getting shallow. “I can tell you want me. So why keep pushing me away?”
“You’re a client.” She tears her eyes away from the art to glare at me, scooting away from me on the bench. “It would be wrong.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Keely.” I inch closer on the bench. “The things we think are wrong? They’re the ones that feel so goddamn right.”
“Please. You’re so sure I want you.” She shakes her head again, looking back at the painting, the plaque next to it—anywhere but at me. “I can’t.”
Can’t.
That’s when I know I’ve got her. Not ‘won’t.’ Not ‘isn’t going to happen.’
She’s hot for me, she wants my cock just as much as the rest of them. The only thing standing between me and this sweet pussy is whatever bullshit voice of reason is shouting me down in her mind.
So I just have to make it stop. Stun her with lust and danger so she doesn’t have time to listen.
I glance around. The gallery room is almost empty, just a few people checking out the exhibit at the other end of the hall and an older couple nearby.
“Have you ever had sex before?” I ask casually.
“What?” Her eyes flash in shock.
“You heard me.” I straddle the bench, watching her body tense. “I’m just wondering why you’re acting like a scared school-girl every time I talk about fucking you. Hey, there’s no shame in it,” I add. “I love teaching virgins.”