Sighing, I waddle into the kitchen and gingerly take a seat at one of our bar stools. He eyes me, a smile lighting up his face before he sips his coffee. “I went home with someone.”
“Judging from the way you’re walking, I can only imagine it was a good time. Was it one of those rich fuckers from the event?”
I smile, thinking about Menace and how he wasn’t even close to the wealthiest man there. But those other men were too stuffy, too closed off, too entitled.
Menace was…almost normal. Even though he probably has millions stacked in his bank account.
Though he doesn’t fuck like a normal person. He fucks like he was born to do it, like he studied in the art of making men orgasm.
Lucian places his coffee mug on the kitchen island and rests his chin on his hand. “Okay, spill. Give me all the dirty details.” He pauses, then says, “Off the record, of course.”
Smiling, I say, “You’re not going to believe who I went home with.”
“God, I hope it’s not that Robert sonofabitch. Something about him gives me the ick.” Before I can say anything about the event, Lucian gets that familiar spark in his eyes. “Oh! Let’s dig into his background. There might be a story there.”
My ears perk up. I’m always on the hunt for an exclusive. Robert Beningfield the fifth is one of those people that carries himself like he has a secret no one knows and he doesn’t think they’ll ever find out. But he hasn’t met me or Lucian. There isn’t a stone we can’t overturn.
Aside from a hit piece of Beningfield, I have to figure out how to get an interview with Menace. We exchanged numbers beforehe took me home, so hopefully I can convince him to let me interview him.
Beningfield will have to wait until I’m done with my model.
My model.Sounds funny even in the safety of my mind, but that’s what he is. Even though we only had one all night fuckathon, Menace ismymodel. During my interview, I’ll convince him of that.
Shaking myself, I say, “No. I’m not sure what he could possibly be hiding but if you say there’s a story, I believe It. But it wasn’t him. It was Menace Grant.”
Lucian’s mouth drops open. “Menace the hot fucking model Grant? Are you fucking serious?”
“Very.”
He shakes his head with a curse. “The one night I go home early, and you get taken home by a model. How was he? Did those underwear ads exaggerate?”
“Not. At. All,” I emphasize, remembering his wide, thick cock almost splitting me in two. He was patient and worked me open, but fuck, the stretch every time he slid into me was almost too much.
Lucian squeals and does a little dance on the other side of the counter. “Okay, I need all the tea.”
Smiling, I give Lucian a play-by-play of my night—and a few hours into the morning—not leaving anything out. Lucian and I have been friends since we were six. We no longer have TMI.
When I’m done talking, Lucian slides a mug of piping hot coffee in front of me with a wide grin. “God, that sounds like a good night. Better than mine.”
“Doubt that. A kill would have been nice last night. A kill then a fuck to cap the night off.”
Lucian is quiet for a few beats, looking at me over the rim of his cup. After he takes a sip, he asks, “What are you goingto do about killing if you get with Menace? I’m sure that’s not something you can drop onto someone’s lap.”
It’s not something I thought about. Yeah, I’m claiming Menace, but I’m not sure if he’ll claim me back, so for now, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing—killing when Lucian finds one of his abusers or someone else that needs putting down—and worry about the rest later.
Shrugging, I say, “I’m not sure, but it can be worked out. Everything can be worked out.”
He hums, taking his cup to the sink to rinse. “Good luck with that.” He looks over his shoulder at me and grins. “You two make a cute couple.”
Barking a laugh, I shake my head and ask, “How was your night? Tell me what happened."
A wide smile stretches across his face as he leans back against the lip of the sink. “Amazing. I’ll be hearing his screams in my dreams.”
Lucian went to kill his former foster brother last night, one of the people that tormented him for being small as a young child. He got the shit beaten out of him for months, so badly one time that he had to have his spleen removed after it burst when he was nine.
It took us ages to track him down, since Lucian didn’t recall his last name, but we finally found him living a few towns over with his family.
“How did you do it?”
