“I’ll fuck you, Ledger, but only if you wrap a hand around my throat and tell me how good my pussy makes you feel, then make me cum until I can’t tell night from day,” I say.
A roguish smile curves his lips at my words. Grabbing my waist, he tugs me to him, then touches his nose to mine before whispering, “Deal.”
8.
There’s a cruel chill in the air tonight – one that keeps biting into the exposed skin of my hands, and my face the faster I drive my Harley through the nearly-deserted streets. The palm trees hiss when the wind gushes over them, and behind me, Cignette presses her knees further against my thighs. She’s wearing my dark-grey suit jacket over her dress, and keeps fidgeting with it every other minute like she’s trying to wrap it tighter around her frame.
“You okay back there?” I ask, loud enough so that she can hear me.
“I can’t feel my legs!” she hollers close to the side of my helmet. “But other than that, I’m golden, thank you.”
I chuckle as I let go of the right handlebar, then bring my hand over to the back of her thigh before running it up and down the length of it. Her skin is soft, cold, and marred with goosebumps, and the urge to drive us back home so that I can get her warmed up is strong, but we’ve got a job to do, and time is quite literally of the essence for us.
Upon my request, Alex and Varsha have made it to the Lutkus estate before Cigs and I. I’ve asked them to scout the property and keep tabs on the guests until I get there, just so we’re fully aware of what, andwhowe’ll be dealing with at the gala tonight.
“We’re almost there,” I tell Cigs, then pat her calf once before bringing my hand back to the handlebar.
Her arms come around my waist a second later, and she pushes herself flush against me before placing her chin on my left shoulder. “This feels nice, though – us driving through suburban streets wearing obnoxiously formal clothes,” she says.
“Yeah? Maybe we should do it more often, then.”
“What, the driving or the clothes?”
“Both,” I provide, taking a sharp left onE Silverspur Trail. The road here is clear; the street muted due to limited lightning. I hear crickets chirping among the shrubs, and the smell of incense permeates the air.
“Over my dead body, Ledger!” Cignette yells. “Fuck this dress, because I’m fucking freezing right now.”
“It’ll all be over soon, I promise,” I quip.
“Yes, when I strangle you on this very motorcycle for forcing me to wear this contraption.”
“MyGod, woman. Go touch some grass, will you?” I call out. “You’re giving Jeffrey Dahmer a run for his money right now.”
“Just keep driving before I commit homicide, Dorran,” she threatens.
I give her a mock salute, to which she punches me in the side, making me laugh out loud, just as the massive Lutkus estate comes into view before us.
Man, it’sfinallyshow time.
9.
There’s elegant jazz playing in the background, but the collective chatter in the Lutkus estate foyer muffles it to the point where I can only hear glimpses of it. Still, it’s soothing to listen to, and from what Ihavebeen able to hear, I’ve found that it gave me the chills. That’s some strong shit right there, I can tell you that.
“How do you even find a bathroom in a place like this?” Alex wonders as he glances around the massive hall. He’s rocking a gorgeous teal tux with a pressed white shirt and black Oxfords, but his body language contradicts his sophisticated attire. His eyes are a little glassy; his posture is loose. He looks as if he’s in a daze, and smiles at random upper classes as they pass by him. I would have found his current state hilarious, but given the importance of our being here, I instead find his behavior a little troublesome.
Dorran’s brows crease as he looks at Alex in question. “Should I be worried that that’s your #1 concern right now?”
Alex winks at him. “I capped my drinking limit today, Ledge, so yes; yes, you should.”
“And why would you do that,knowingwe have a job to do tonight?”
He shrugs. “I’ve had a bottle ofCabernet Sauvignonstaring at me for days now. All I did was indulge its silent desire of wanting to be emptied.”
“GoodGod,” Dorran mutters, just as Varsha asks, “And where wasIwhen you were fulfilling an inanimate object’ssilent desire?” She looks beautiful in a white, halter-neck jumpsuit, with her short, dark hair tied above her head, and her golden skin illuminating effortlessly against the lighting in here.
“Watching aBad Omenslive show on your laptop,” Alex tells her, which makes me laugh.
Dorran and Varsha whip their heads at me in unison, so I press my lips together and bring my attention back to the foyer.
