Page 46 of His Trick

His deep ocean blue eyes widened, framed by those thick ass black eyelashes. This close, I was breathing in his gasp, consuming him and owning him.

“Wh-What?”

I locked my gaze with his, letting the intensity of my desire make him fucking shiver. His cock thickened, hitting me in my upper thigh. “Your words, Sunshine. Tell me, is my sister really that much into anal play, or were you daydreaming about this?”

I stroked my dick in front of him, letting out a real moan. For a second, he froze again, his eyes bouncing from the piercings to the beaded pre-come at the tip. He licked his bottom lip like he wanted to taste it, and I just about made him, but then he shoved at my chest, and I stepped back, twirling away with a chuckle.

“What does it matter to you anyway what I do alone in a room with my dick?”

He stiffened. “It doesn’t, asshole. Just…fuck you. Enjoy your work today. I am sure it’ll prove to be eventful.”

I cocked a brow at that. Something about the way the smile in his voice said those words caught my attention, but he was already walking back to my fucking sister before I could focus on his toying tone, and my damn phone rang again.

With a sigh, I walked back to the bathroom and picked up my cell, punching the answer key and clicking the speaker button. The sex sounds were still playing, and I didn’t bother shutting them off. I liked that they seemed to bother Shiloh.

I answered without enthusiasm. “Yeah.”

“Carrington. There you are, you fucking degenerate.” Hale’s voice was clipped and gruff.

Good old lumberjack detective that he was. He didn’t like being ignored like a side whore. I made a mental note to do it more often.

“We’ve got a cleanup for you, asshole. Woods. On Gemstone trail, close to your moneybag parent’s place. Because your daddy has my entire department in his back pocket, chief wants this discreet and fast?—”

He stopped and huffed. “Are you listening to fucking porn? You know what, don’t answer that. Just get your ass to the damn coordinates, Harding. Now.”

Click.

No loving goodbye? How rude.

I got dressed in the usual garb and screenshotted the text of the location details. I felt naked as fuck without my knife, and reminded myself to rip it from Shiloh’s hands when I was done with work.

My work bag was still packed from the other day, and I slung it over my shoulder and left the mansion, looking for my truck in the slew of flashy, stupid cars owned by my family. This was my routine. It was clean and professional. Really, it was muscle memory, more than anything else.

By the timeI hit the narrow road leading to the wooded area that was uncomfortably close to my ‘rents’ castle, the mist hung low, clinging to the trees like unsettled ghosts. My truck bounced over the gravel and roots, while the suspension bitched and knocked my ass around in the process.

This was the calm I needed after the chaos I usually craved. My skin prickled with the heated anger that some fucking hunter was near mygrounds.

Nonchalantly leaving bodies, no less.

Detective Hale was hovering over the crime scene photographer. I could see the bloated motherfucker as I arrived at the yellow-taped area. He always had to tag along like a massive shadow, complete with bad breath, shit timing, and a worse attitude. One of his hands was gripped around a dessert, and the other was fiddling with his badge, like he owned the morning air.

“Nice of you to show up, Harding,” he said as I walked up to the scene. His smirk was fat and annoying, like him. “With your Daddy’s corrupt hands in this, I knew I needed to keep my fucking eye on you.”

I whistled through my teeth, making sure the noise was extra agitating. “I’m just here to make everything spick and span, Hale. That’s my job, not my ‘Daddy’s.’ You just gonna stand there pounding those donuts like I did your mom last night?”

He choked on the sugary confection, and I smiled.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t fuck up something, Harding. I happen to be that unlucky someone. You know, quality control.”

I rolled my eyes.

Quality control.

The man would sniff a corpse and write a review if you let him. So quality control meant he didn’t want me to mess up, and my father fired his ass.

By the time I reached the clearing where the stiffs were, Hale was already making a habit of walking ahead of me, poking at a piece of debris with his boot.

His eyebrows were scrunched like he was changing a dirty diaper, and I laughed out loud. The smell of decaying bodies didn’t faze me any longer, and not just because I had killed hundreds myself.