The Hitman's Guide to Tying the Knot Without Getting Shot - Alice Winters Page 0,84
power of the heart is an enigma. An… unreasonable paradox! It’s like Schrödinger’s cat!”
I’m now more confused than ever. “What? The heart is dead and alive until you open it?” I ask.
“Wait… huh… no. From experience, once you open it, it’s definitely dead unless you’re a heart surgeon. I’m just showing you how confusing it is, and why there’s so much pain involved when you love me.”
“Ah, right. Makes a lot of sense.”
He’s pleased even with my high level of sarcasm.
“Ooh! Did I ever tell you about the time I choked someone with a cock?”
He sounds far too happy about this and I’m highly concerned. “I don’t know that I want to know this story,” I realize.
“SO there I am, minding my own business as I crawl in through the window and this cat skirts in front of me. I trip over it and slam into this expensive vase, alerting everyone I’m there. Startled, the man jumps forward, ramming his cock way too far into the lady’s mouth, instantly choking her. I didn’t even have to do anything! I almost felt bad taking the money for that one.”
“It killed her?” I ask. “You’re making shit up again. She has a nose!”
“Instant K.O. She’d just had a nose job done and couldn’t breathe through her nose.”
“You’re such a liar.”
“She died doing what she loved,” Leland says with a sigh as if it were a bittersweet story while I’m positive it was a highly exaggerated story. “Alright, now that we’re done with breakfast and I’ve relived some of my favorite stories, let’s work for twenty-five minutes and then I’ll suck your cock.”
My interest is piqued far too fucking hard at that. “Wait… what? I now have to stay focused for twenty-five minutes?”
The grin he gives me is so damn wicked. “You do. And if you don’t stay focused, it’ll be another twenty-five minutes,” he says then flips the syrup upside down and drizzles a thin stream over my fingers. “Whoops. I think I spilled the syrup.” He lifts my hand up. “Let me clean you up, you dirty boy.”
He leans forward as I watch, mesmerized by his lips as he parts them slowly while looking up at me from beneath his eyelashes. He’s wearing such a conniving grin that I should know something’s up, but the moment his tongue touches the tip of my finger, I don’t even care. That is until he pushes my hand down in front of Cayenne who licks and laps at it like a starved creature.
“Gotta work hard while not being hard! Ha-ha! Get it? Working hard and being hard makes it hard to concentrate.”
I stare at the devil of a man while Cayenne licks every inch of my hand at hyper speed.
“Damn you,” I whisper.
Leland looks up with wide eyes as Cayenne focuses between my fingers. “Umm… you’re not working hard so I’m going to have to start the timer over,” he says as he stops it and restarts. I go and wash my hands and notice he restarts it again when I return. “Fiancé, it’s not that difficult. Focus, please. Neither of us gets anything done if you’re over there with a raging hard-on jabbing me in the side.”
“I’m extremely focused,” I assure him as I sit down.
He turns to his computer and starts researching as I write down everything I can remember about the three remaining people who’d been involved in this:
Benjamin Hutson
Anna Moore
Mateo Rodriquez
“My god, it sure is hot in here,” Leland says as he folds his shirt up until his nipples are literally peeking out. The shirt is balled up under his armpits and I watch as he takes his glass of water, dips his fingers into it and pats it on his nipples. “Ah, nothing cools me down more than a wet nipple.”
“Better than a wet noodle.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I hate myself a little. What have I become to think that would be a good reply? Leland has ruined me.
“Ooh, you’re right, I bet that’ll help,” he says as he pulls his pants down then dribbles water all over his boxer briefs, making them hug his cock.
He clears his throat and my eyes make the reluctant leap from his cock to his eyes. “Are you not working?”
“You act like it’s my fault I’m not! I can’t concentrate when you… you… do this stuff!” I say.
“Do what stuff?” he asks as if he could even pretend to be innocent. He’s the guiltiest man alive.