A distraction from what?Is my silent reaction every time she says that.What could possibly be more important than me?
Stupid fucking college.
“I got in,” she breathes. “I got in, and I have a scholarship!”
I don’t give a fuck about college, but I give a fuck about her, and when I see how happy she is, I draw her to me, my hard dick forgotten—momentarily. “Good job, cricket.”
I give her a deep kiss and she nestles contentedly in my arms, chirping away like she always does when she’s happy. Or sad. Orangry. Or anything, really.
“I can’t believe it. They literally waited till the last possible second to let me know! I’ve been doing applications all year, and I got no’s everywhere!”
“Most of your applications were accepted,” I say, confused.
“Stupid! I mean, my scholarships were denied. I can’t go to college without one.”
Anyone other than her would have a fist to their face if they called me stupid. But it sounds like a cute term of endearment coming from her. I give her another kiss.
“I already told you—”
“I don’t want to take money from you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but admire her independent spirit.
Plus, I know there’s another reason she refuses my money. She views it as blood money. Contract money. Which I guess it is.
She hasn’t asked any other questions since she eavesdropped on to my conversation with Dad—or overheard, according to her. I haven’t volunteered information, either. I know her well enough, though, to realize that her brain is busy filling in my silence with explanations that fit into her neat, Nancy Drew world.
I’m notactuallykilling people. That’s what she’s telling herself. She’s probably imagining that I’ve never killed a person in my life. I bet she thinks I get paid to… smack my victims around a little bit. And even that’s too violent for her.
The truth is, I’ve already killed four guys. While I don’t have enough money yet to pay for four full years of college for her, I would happily spend everything I’ve made so far on the first year, because the only point to the money I earn is her.
And then, given how well my contracts are going, and how pleased Tragen is with me, I have no doubt I could pay for the rest easily, one year at a time.
I’d never let her go into debt. I’d never let her miss out on her dream, either.
She’s pink with happiness as she returns my kisses, and my hand flips the hem of her dress over her bubble butt, then slides under her panties.
She shivers in my arms, her pussy as wet as ever as I reach below her ass toward it.
“Congratulations, little cricket,” I say again. “So, which college is it?”
“UCLA,” she declares, her voice muffled in my chest.
My hand stops toying with her clit, and she wiggles a bit, wanting me to continue.
But my blood is suddenly thundering in my ears. “Isn’t that in California?”
“Yes, it is.” Her voice comes out in the tiniest of squeaks, because she must already realize exactly what that means, and knows I now do too. And she’s looking more than a little nervous about my voice suddenly dropping several decibels.
I withdraw my hand from her panties and come to rest it threateningly on the swell of her ass. I hear her gulp in my ear.
“You applied to a college in California?”
“I told you so,” she says defensively. “I told you I was. Quill, that’s where I come from! This is like my dream come true. To go into a really good college close to my hometown. Maybe I can even…” she swallows, “... get back in touch with my childhood friends.”
“No.” My voice is hard and final.
“But, Quill!” she protests. “I told you I was applying there! You never said a word!”
