Page 81

“I like cats.” And, I try and remind myself, this man has a girl somewhere as a prisoner or who knows what.

“I don’t.”

“Arnold chose Clawzilla, not me.”

“That thing is nothing but a speck of fur. Take it back. Feed it to the dog. I don’t care.”

I flick his hand off me. “You really are a bastard.”

“If I say the cat can stay for now, can I stick my hand in your panties and finger you until you beg me to come?”

“Callahan.”

“That’s a yes.”

And his hand is back, sliding up my inner thighs. He strokes the front of my panties, right as the server returns. He smiles at her until she leaves. Then his smile vanishes. He tugs the side of the panties so his fingers are free to slide over my wet flesh.

“I don’t see your sister, and you’re always, always wet for me.”

Callahan starts to finger just inside my pussy lips, teasing my entrance, all the way up to circle my clit and down.

“So fucking wet. Now you’re a screamer, so this is your consequence for running. I’m going to try and make you come and you’re going to stop yourself.”

He begins to push a finger into me, and he curls it, rubbing back and forth on my G-spot.

A moan breaks free as the fucker uses his free hand to eat a fry and then takes a sip of his drink.

Both my hands are under the table, gripping my seat, my legs spread, and all I can do is thank the bar gods they have a black cloth over the table. No one’s looking so…

He thrusts the finger in me, his thumb flicking my clit and my eyes roll upward.

“I’m going… I can’t… stop, stop, stop…” I want to say go, go, and yes, but he’s right, I’ll scream and?—

He kisses me hard and I come, shattering and spasming, and I scream into his mouth as his tongue assaults me, too. I’ma wreck, I want more, and I kiss him back with a hunger I didn’t know I had.

He pulls his finger from me and changes the kiss into a slow, deep thing that rocks me down to my toes, the tongue piercing mine to suck.

When that ends he raises his head and says, “I don’t think she’s gonna show up.”

His words are like a bucket of cold water to my face, and suddenly something in me snaps.

“Who’s the girl you’ve got,” I rasp, my pulse hammering hard in my throat, “and what are you planning to do with her?”

TWENTY-THREE

callahan

Lucie is toogoddamn stubborn for her own good.

And mine.

She should be punished, at the very least, and dead by my own very reasonable standards. But she’s just fucking lucky I find her endearing, fascinating, weird, sexy, and so fucking enjoyable. I also tend not to kill women.

I’d love to say it’s a hard line, but I’m pretty sure the only hard lines I have are immediate family and animals.

And maybe pretty Lucie with the mile-long legs and mouth that won’t fucking quit.

God only knows why she has me so captivated.