Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,8
call to confirm my identity with someone at the local FBI office. Thank fuck.
While Cora is gone to pack, I keep an eye on the dark neighborhood through the windows I busted, hoping it’s late enough and dark enough that no one heard or saw the bricks shattering glass, or pays any attention to the car I just bought parked in her driveway. Even if they do see the old man’s Buick and get the license plate, it’s a fake, of course.
After all, I learned to be a criminal and cover my tracks from the best.
Which reminds me…pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick message to a local glass repair man, telling him I’ll pay double if he can get here first thing tomorrow morning to fix the place up and clean every shard of glass from the carpet. Time is running out before Cora is reported missing. That’s when the police will show up here and start looking for evidence that she was kidnapped or killed.
When it feels like I’ve been waiting over half an hour with no sign of the woman again, I stride down the hall to her bedroom to remind her to move her ass.
Instead, I get a quick glimpse of her pale, heart-shaped ass. Her back is to me when she drops her towel, her red, curly hair dripping down her back as she pulls a pair of white cotton panties up her legs.
“What the hell are you doing?” I bark at her.
She lets out a squeak when I startle her. Grabbing the towel from the floor, she picks it up, pressing it to her chest before she spins around to face me. “Jeez! I needed a quick shower. Why are you in my room?”
All this time she’s been in the shower instead of packing. I glance over to the bed and find one suitcase open on top of it, not even halfway full. “I told you to pack fast, not take your sweet ass time taking a long, hot shower!”
Combing her fingers through the damp strands of hair to get it out of her face, she says, “I don’t know where we’re going, or how long it will take to get there, so I figured I should at least be clean if I’m starting my life over, right?” She hesitates before asking, “Where are we going anyway?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” I tell her, rethinking my whole idea of just throwing her over my shoulder and getting the fuck out of dodge. Tying her up while she’s wearing nothing but those chaste panties is actually a very appealing option.
No. Fuck no. I can’t even think about laying a hand on her. This is a mission Malcolm is trusting me with to save Nash’s ass, and he specifically said not to hurt her. “Hurry up and get dressed!”
This may be one of the first times in my life that I’ve ever insisted that a beautiful woman put clothes on instead of taking them off. Not that I usually wait for the clothes to come off in an orderly fashion. With the women I’ve been hooking up with lately, it’s more of a quick ripping and yanking of fabric to get my dick inside of them as fast as possible. After all, when you’re paying by the hour, every second counts.
Most people probably think that hiring prostitutes is disgusting, but to me it comes down to convenience and accountability. Everyone is on the same page when fucking is nothing more than a simple monetary transaction. There are no feelings required or expectations I have to meet. I’m always safe, I never even get a blowjob without my dick wrapped up. And for the right price, the girls let me do whatever I want to them. All holes are fair game. If I want to fuck their mouths, they gladly open up and say ‘Ah.” If I’m in the mood for anal, they break out the lube. It’s the oldest trade in the world, because women have something men would gladly pay to get whenever they want it.
Sex on demand.
No one would ever accuse me of being a romantic.
Not to mention, I don’t completely trust myself to be completely alone with a woman I’m fucking. Knowing other people are nearby, under the same roof, means I have to keep myself in check, restrain myself from going too far…
“The quicker you leave the room, the faster I’ll finish getting dressed and packed,” Cora tells me, sounding