you wanted to try the whiskey.” I picked up his glass and tilted it. The contents dripped onto his ravaged hand until the glass was empty and Frank’s renewed screams bounced off the walls.
Hmm. Guess he has some voice left in him after all. There was nothing like a bit of alcohol on an open wound to drive home the pain. “Don’t worry about reimbursing me for the wasted alcohol,” I said. “I’ll take it out of your account. Argent Bank, account number 904058891314, routing number 087945660, correct?” He stared at me, his eyes swollen with tears and glassy with pain. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I patted his cheek. “Let’s keep this between us, shall we? I’d hate for us to have another chat.” I made it halfway to the door before I stopped. A mental image of the fucker grabbing Stella’s ass flashed through my mind, and the rage resurfaced, churning like icy black waves beneath my skin. “I changed my mind.” I turned. “I’m not in a good mood after all.” The gunshot ripped through the air. Frank slumped onto the desk with a hole in the back of his head and open, lifeless eyes. I tucked the gun back into my jacket and exited into the hall, where Kage lounged against the wall. “Don’t tell me you shot him,” he said when he saw me. The office was soundproofed, but he correctly assessed my expression. “What a fucking mess.” “He pissed me off.” I checked my watch. Dammit. The only grocery store that sold Stella’s favorite salsa closed in fifteen minutes. “Clean that up for me, will you?” “I always do,” he said dryly. Not everyone at Harper Security knew about the less legal side of the business, but Kage had seen enough shit in his life to keep his morals flexible. The world wasn’t black and white; no one knew that better than someone who’d lived in the gray. I washed my hands in the bathroom on my way out and inspected my clothes for any specks of blood before I gunned it to the grocery store.
36
STELLA
“That’s all I needed. Thank you for your time,” Julian said. We’d just finished our last interview for my Washington Weekly profile. We’d had a series of conversations themed around different aspects of my life over the past few weeks, and today, we’d discussed my fashion line for a good fifteen minutes after I mentioned it in passing. It was off the record since Delamonte wouldn’t appreciate me talking about my own brand in a story that was supposed to be about them, but I was excited to discuss it with someone who wasn’t Christian or my friends. It made it more real. “Of course. Let me know if you have any additional questions,” I said warmly. “I will, and I’ll email you when the story is live. Congratulations again on everything.” I hung up and stretched with a yawn. It was late afternoon, but I felt like I’d been up for twenty-four hours straight. I’d finished all the samples for my collection last week and had spent the day taking photos of them for future marketing materials. I was used to photoshoots, but I hadn’t realized how much harder it was to take product photos for a website versus a blog. Pieces from the shoot were scattered all over the room, including props, clothing, and camera equipment. I forced myself off the couch so I could tidy up the mess before Christian came home. Our dinners were my favorite part of the day. He always came home early enough to help with the
cooking （though I suspected that was partly because he didn’t trust me near the oven after the smoke alarm incident）， and we spent the nights unwinding and talking. I liked fancy dates and galas as much as the next girl, but nothing made me happier than simply spending time with someone I— “Sorry I’m late.” I straightened and lit up when Christian walked in. I finally understood why my friends gushed over their significant others. Every time I saw him or heard his voice, the butterflies went crazy. “I had to get more salsa.” He kissed me and placed his shopping bag on the coffee table. I brightened further. “Is that the brand that I like?” I recognized the name stamped on the bag. It was the only grocery store in the city that carried my favorite salsa. “Yes.” Christian’s mouth tipped up when I squealed and peeked inside the bag. The grocery store was on the other side of the city, so I rarely made it out there even though it stocked some of my most loved, hard-to-find items. The sight of the two glass jars made me inordinately happy. It wasn’t the salsa per se; it was the fact that he’d gone out of his way to buy them for me. “Congrats, you just won the Boyfriend of the Week award.” “Did I?” He placed his hands on my hips while I looped my arms around his neck. “What’s my reward?” “This.” I gave him another, longer kiss and smiled at his soft groan. It was only when I ran my hand down his back that I noticed the tension bunching his muscles. I pulled back and examined him with a small frown. “Is everything okay? You seem tense.” “Yes.” Christian’s expression didn’t flicker.
“Just a minor irritation at work.” “Hmm.” I worried about him sometimes. He had an important job, but all that stress wasn’t good for anyone. Despite my best efforts to convince him, he also refused to take up yoga or meditation. An idea sparked in my head. It was so out of character I almost dismissed it out of hand, but I was a new, bolder me. I could try new things. Maybe. “Sit on the couch.” I tamped down the uprising of nerves in my stomach and kept my voice casual. “I can think of something that’ll help you relax.” Christian did as I asked.
“Another massage?” he drawled, but his eyes darkened when I sank onto my knees before him.
“Sort of.” I reached for his belt. His hand gripped my wrist before I made contact, and the air shifted into something heavier, more condensed. “What,” he said, his voice dropping to a rough pitch that made my thighs clench. “Are you doing?” “I told you.” I pulled my wrist free from his grasp and unbuckled his belt, my heart fluttering like a nervous hummingbird’s. “I’m helping you relax.” Christian and I took turns initiating sex, but I’d never been so bold about it. Usually, all it took was a certain look or smile from me and he got the hint. But this…this was way outside my comfort zone. He didn’t stop me again, but the heat of his gaze settled low in my stomach. My mouth dried when I finally worked him free of his pants. He was already hard, his arousal thick and dripping with pre-cum. He let me set the pace as I slowly took him down my throat, but he was so big I had to pause every few seconds to adjust. Eventually, however, I took him to the hilt and stayed there for a minute with my lips stretched wide against the base of his shaft. I hummed with pride before I started moving. Slowly at first, then faster as I got more comfortable with his size and the angle. Christian let out a low curse and tangled his hands in my hair when I settled into a rhythm, licking and sucking until his muscles tightened beneath my touch. I flattened my tongue and ran it along the underside of his cock as I withdrew, then gently sucked the head and slid him all the way down my throat again. His grip tightened on my hair. “Fuck, Stella.” Christian’s tortured groan sent another arrow of lust to my core. “That feels so fucking good, sweetheart.” I moaned with satisfaction and redoubled my efforts. Drool leaked from the corners of my stuffed mouth and dripped down my chin, but I didn’t stop. The blowjob was for