3

~Damon~

 

I look down at the blonde lapping up the last traces of my cum that I just shot down her throat, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock like a fucking tornado. So eager, just like the rest of them. Watching her is starting to get me riled up again and I fist my hand in her hair, ripping her head from my cock.

Only once. That’s all they get. My rule. And a damn good one. The last thing I want is them getting attached. Fuck those complications. Exactly what I don’t need in my line of work. Control. I need to maintain it at all costs, in all situations.

“Time to go,” I order her, gesturing to my office door.

She gets to her feet and looks at me with confusion, like she hasn’t heard me correctly.

“Get. Out.”

“What? I thought we—”

“What? You thought what? We were gonna spoon here on my couch? Cuddle? Talk about our feelings? No, babe. You were a good fuck and now it’s over, it’s time for you to leave. I have work to do.”

She makes a move to slap me and I step out of the way. I can’t help grinning. It’s incredibly amusing that she thought she could actually land a hit. She really has no idea who she’s dealing with.

And she never will.

None of them will.

“You’re such an asshole!” she shrieks.

I snatch her halter top off the floor and toss it to her. “Sure, I’m an asshole if that makes you feel better about yourself for blowing a guy you just met, because of his name.”

“What?” she snaps as she hastily pulls on her halter.

“You spread your legs for me as soon as I introduced myself.”

“You’re disgusting!”

“You weren’t complaining earlier, babe.”

“Argh. I can’t believe I let you touch me!” she screams as she storms towards the door, teetering unsteadily on her six-inch stilettos.

“If it makes you feel better, it was just oral!” I call out. Don’t push me, woman.

“Fuck you, Damon!”

Hmm…classy. “You’re welcome for your mind-blowing orgasm, by the way!” I call out after her, unable to resist having the last word.

She blows out an angry breath and I watch her tight little ass bouncing with every step, her skirt so short that I can see the tops of those delicious stockings of hers. I smile with amusement as she slams the door behind her.

It’s amazing how women like her can still think it’s their right to be all self-righteous and pissed off even after I lay down the law for them before I even touch them. But, hey, it’s easier to blame the guy, than themselves, right? Well, screw that. Every time a woman reacts like her, it just reinforces my rule of never getting too close. Who needs all that bullshit? Not me, that’s for damned sure.

I sigh and fix my black dress pants. I look down at my crisp white shirt that now has What’s-Her-Name’s neon pink lipstick marks all over it. Shit, if I was really an asshole, I would bill her for the couple of hundred bucks that a new one will cost. I cross to the closet on the wall opposite my desk where I always keep a few spare suits. A necessity, because there have been several times when I’ve crashed here in my office after a long-ass eighteen hour day at the club.

I’ve got my fingers in a lot of pies and Pillow Talk—my high-end club is just one of them. As my newest acquisition, it’s taking up most of my time right now. Another six months and it’ll be good to go and I’ll finally be able to leave my hand-picked managers to run it. Any other owner probably would’ve handed it off by now, but not me. I can’t afford to risk it by relinquishing control too early. I know my staff thinks I’m a micro-manager and damn right I am. It’s the only way to ensure that things are done right.

Opening the cupboard, I reach for another Armani shirt; this one, a silky black. I shed the one that What’s-Her-Name ruined with her cheap lipstick. As I shrug it on over my shoulders, the intercom on my glass-top desk sounds.

“Boss, I got a Miss Smith out here demanding to speak with you.”

“Smith?” I murmur to myself. I stub the answer button and bark at Jack, my Head of Security, “Who?”

“Julie Smith, boss,” he says as if it’s supposed to mean something to me. Well, it doesn’t.

“Tell her my cock’s not available right now.”

There’s a brief pause where I know he’s relaying my words to whoever Miss Smith is.

“Uh…she says…uh…” he struggles.

“She says what?” I demand.

“She says she’s not here to blow you and that you wouldn’t be able to handle her anyway.”

Mmm…feisty. I like that. “Send her in.” Let’s see how ballsy she is when she comes face-to-face with me.

They all think they’re tough, that they’re gonna stand up to me and maintain their good girl image. But they always cave. Every single one of them spreads their legs for me in the end.

And so will this one.

I button my shirt at the middle, not bothering with the rest, as I sink into my leather chair and lean back comfortably.

A second later Miss Smith walks through the door.

Fuck me.

It’s her.

Miss Smith is nothing but an alias.

Wow. Having only ever seen her from a distance before, I’m stunned now that she’s actually standing in front of me, only a few feet away. She’s gorgeous. Her thick golden hair catches the light and glitters. Her eyes, a striking shade of blue, scan the room quickly, carefully sweeping over every detail. And her lips? So full, so perfect. I’d love to have those wrapped around my cock.

She’s wearing a leather jacket that hugs her tight body in all the right ways. I note the two empty holsters strapped to her black cargo pants. Did security frisk her, or did she come here unarmed?

She shuts the door behind her and strolls on in like she owns the place. Her eyes rake over me, drinking me in slowly. I see her lip curl up appreciatively. And then she slaps her palms down on my desk and tells me, “You need to come with me, asshole.”

“And where are you gonna take me?” I ask coyly.

She doesn’t react to the sexual subtext in my comment at all.

“Somewhere safe,” she responds, all business.

I smile with amusement and leave my chair, rounding my desk and approaching her. “And why would the woman who’s been contracted to kill me want to keep me safe?”

I step into her personal space, but she doesn’t move a muscle. She stands there meeting my challenge and glowering up at me.

“I’m not going to kill you,” she says. “Yet,” she adds, her eyes flashing with a darkness I understand all too well.

I step back and look her up and down, making no pretense that I am indeed eye-fucking her on the spot.

She isn’t the least bit intimidated.

Not like the others.

Interesting.

I reach out and finger the collar of her leather jacket, part of which is turned inward. As I fix it, my fingers brush the soft skin of her neck. I feel her body stiffen at my unexpected touch, but she doesn’t move away, doesn’t even break her gaze. Of course she doesn’t. We’re from the same world. She knows that if she backs down, control will be mine. The power will be mine.

I decide to push her further and I lean into her. I whisper softly in her ear, “Alana Halton. Contract killer and the hell bitch of the city.” She tenses again, at the sound of her real name on my lips. Very few people know her identity so I can imagine how anxious I must be making her right now.

But I’m just getting started. I know this girl. She thinks she has the upper hand. I’m about to show her that she couldn’t be more wrong. I’m not like the people she’s used to dealing with. I graze her earlobe with my teeth. “Tell me something, Miss Halton. Why would someone like you choose to spare me? Everyone knows your reputation. Mercy isn’t a part of it.”

She places her hands on my chest. Seeing as though my shirt is only buttoned at the middle, she touches my bare skin. I swallow hard as she flicks my right nipple between her fingers. Fuck, her touch is electric. I feel my cock stir. Christ.

She stretches onto her tiptoes and tells me in a seductive whisper, “And everyone knows your rep, Damon.”

Before I can utter a response, she pushes me back roughly with both hands. The surprising power behind it causes me to stumble back.

“You know who hired me?” she demands, shifting her weight and folding her arms across her chest.

“Of course. There isn’t anything that happens in this city without me knowing about it, Miss Halton.”

“Then you know Robert Cartwright is a dangerous man.”

“And you are fucking stupid.”

“What?” she fumes, taking a threatening step towards me.

“Refusing to do as he asks is like signing your own death sentence.”

“I don’t kill innocents.”

I scoff. “You think I’m an innocent?”

I see the frustration on her face. She clearly detests small talk. Very impatient indeed. But, then again, she is young. A lot younger than me.

“Just pack your shit and come with me,” she orders. “Or, we can do this the hard way.”

The hard way? Mmm. “And that would be?”

She pulls a tiny remote from her jacket pocket and tells me, “I’ve rigged explosives throughout your club. One push of a button and I’ll level this place. Or you come with me quietly. Your choice, Damon.”

I hear the very real threat in her words. But all I can focus on is the way my name sounds on her lips. The slight gravelly tone of her voice is such a turn on. I’d love to hear her screaming my name under different circumstances. Yes, Damon! Fuck me, Damon! Damon, I’m gonna come! Mmm…amazing.

“Did you hear me?” she snaps.

“Yes, I heard you, Miss. Halton.”

“Alana,” she commands. “Just call me Alana, for fuck’s sake.”

I grin. “I’ll think about it.”

She rolls her eyes and draws in a breath, trying to calm herself. “Tell your people you’ll be working from home for the next few days. That’s all we’ll need. By then I’ll have Cartwright’s location and I’ll take care of everything and you can go back to your debauched, rich playboy lifestyle. Okay?”

What? She’s planning to go after Cartwright? That’s her brilliant plan? Damn, she’s cockier than I’d thought. Sure she’s good at what she does, but Cartwright is in another league altogether.

I can’t let her do this.

I’ll play along for now until she gets the asshole’s location. And then I’ll take over from there.

“Fine,” I agree. “I need to stop by my condo first.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t—”

I grip her jacket and jerk her towards me. “Non-negotiable,” I growl.

Pissed, she pulls herself out of my grip and mutters, “Fine. But make it quick, pretty boy. You don’t need to get doled up for this. We’re just going into hiding. Your adoring public won’t be anywhere near where we’ll be.”

“Pretty boy, huh? So you like what you see?” I tease, wanting to gauge her reaction. God, this girl is so much fun to mess with. I can’t seem to help myself.

She scoffs. “I don’t usually hear that line until a guy pulls his cock out.”

I reach for my belt. “Happy to oblige, Miss Halton.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t embarrass yourself,” she says harshly. “You’re not my type.”

Ouch. “Of course. It slipped my mind. You don’t fuck real men,” I say just as harshly. Her eyes flash at me, but it just spurs me on. I press my hands to her shoulders and push her against the wall. “Tell me; when was the last time one of them made you come so hard that you couldn’t even remember your own name? The last time you had a real cock between your legs?” I grab her hand and press it to my erection. She gasps. Curiosity flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared as she recovers and pushes me away.

“I don’t fuck guys like you,” she tells me vehemently. A little too vehemently.

“Like me?” I query; already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear her say it.

“Control freaks.”

“But you want to. A part of you wants me to bend you over my desk and fuck your sweet pussy. I bet you’re wet for me right now, baby.”

Just when I think I have her now, she surprises me by laughing. What? She’s laughing at me now? I’m speechless for several moments, like an awkward teenager trying to hit on his first crush. How is this happening? She’s getting under my skin.

She pulls a card from her jacket pocket and hands it to me. I take it dazedly. It’s a business card for a pizza place.

“That’s the number for one of my cell phones. Call me when you’ve picked up whatever you need to from your condo. I’ll be in the club. You have an hour. Don’t keep me waiting. We need to leave under the cover of darkness. Cartwright has eyes everywhere.”

And without another word, she leaves my office, slamming the door behind her.