“Same here. I never kill people for the fuck of it. But people who abuse their kids, their spouses? I don’t mind taking them out and I sleep like a baby when I’m done.”
Grinning widely, Hill says, “You really are fucking perfect, you know that?”
I hum. “So, you lied to me about going to sleep”—Hill snorts—“so you could kill a guy that was drugging people?”
“He was a rapist. Of course I killed him.” He looks apologetic. “I’m sorry I lied. But I didn’t think I could tell youHey, I’m going to kill some guy in the club, but I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gives me a dry look. “No normal person would respond well to a text like that.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Hill is quiet for a few seconds, then he raises himself up so he can look down at me. “Wait, how did you know where I was?”
“You think after the night we had at my place that I was going to let you go? Not on your fucking life, little psycho.”
That would scare most people, hell, a lot of people, but Hill just beams at me. God, he really is the perfect man for me.
“Come on,” he says, nudging me. “Your cum is leaking out of my ass. We can talk more when we’re clean.”
Taking his hand, I let Hill pull me out of the bed, watching his ass bunch and flex as he pulls me into his en suite.
Before we get under the shower spray, I turn Hill around and ask, “Do you want to go on a date with me?”
His eyes widen. “Now?”
An unexpected laugh bubbles out of me at his expression. “No, not now. After this shower, I plan to take you back to bed and eat your ass until you cry. Then I’m going to fuck you until you fall asleep. Then I’ll fuck you back awake.”
“You’re relentless,” he says, but doesn’t say no.
Fucking perfect.
Chapter Twelve
Hill
“Didyou really have to rent the whole place for the night?” I ask Menace as I heft an axe in my hand.
When Menace asked if I wanted to go on a date with him, I thought he’d do something pretentious, like take me to some ritzy restaurant or flaunt his money.
He’s kinda doing that now, but in a more low-key way.
I understand him wanting to have a private night where he’s not swarmed by photogs and fans. Renting out Viking Ave so we can throw some axes and eat greasy burgers is perfect.
Menace snakes an arm around me and brings me close to his body. “I did. I wanted to make sure I could do this,” he licks from my neck up to my earlobe before taking the flesh into his mouth and biting down gently, “without anyone seeing.”
I hiss and push my ass back to his groin, his erection digging into the small of my back. “You trying to put on a show, Mr.Grant?”
His light chuckle warms me. “Not at all. I’m trying to get to know you, Mr.Washington.”
“Mm-hmm.” Standing in front of the target, I line up, heft the axe behind my head, and throw it down the lane. It hits the target with a reverberatingthunk.
“Nice throw.”
“Thanks,” I say, then he laughs as I brush imaginary dirt from my shoulder. Looking around to make sure the two attendants that are still here aren’t around, I ask, “Have you ever used one?”
“To kill?” he asks in a low voice. I nod. “No, I haven’t.” He picks up one of the axes and weighs it in his hand. “I should though. You think I could decapitate someone with one clean chop, or will it take multiple?”
It’s so weird, yet so refreshing, to talk to someone so openly about killing people. Sure, I can talk to Lucian about it, but we’re so used to it that it’s no longer a thrill. But talking so openly with Menace—and seeing his work—is an experience I never thought I’d have.
Grinning, I bump his hip and say, “I think a big strong man like you can do it in one go. Wanna find out one day?”
