Page 14 of To All the Guys I Killed Before

When she freezes, I do too, hoping like hell I didn’t just ruin our game with my command. Then she pushes her mask up with trembling fingers and delicately bites the leather tip of my glove, tugging on it just like she did with hers. She does the same to each of the fingers I slide past her lips until she tugs the glove off.

“Good girl.” I stroke my now-bare hand down her cheek, her actual cheek. It’s so soft that I rest the pads of my fingers there while I lift my other hand. “Keep your mouth open for me.”

This time, she parts her lips without hesitation, and I press an open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck as a reward for her compliance. She quickly strips off my other glove and drops it to the floor along with its partner, letting her head loll against my chest when she’s done. I press my bare thumb into the heat of her mouth, and she sucks it obediently. The pull almost makes me come without any assistance from her hands, and I reluctantly lower her mask back into place.

Any loss I feel at hiding her mouth again vanishes when I reach for the zipper of her hoodie. Fingerprints, the tiny, still-rational part of me whispers, so instead of touching it myself, I murmur, “Unzip for me.”

She fumbles with it before obeying, falling back against me with a pant as I use this new access to cup her tits, plucking and tugging at her nipples until they’re hard little peaks under the thin, stretchy fabric.

“Wish I could suck these,” I mutter, even though I know it’s not what we’re doing here tonight. Still, I want to put my bare hands on her, so I reach for the hem of her shirt. All I find is uninterrupted material. Puzzled, I slide my hand up and down her stomach.

“Surprise, Gomez,” she says, soft and wicked. “It’s a bodysuit.”

“Seriously?” I say on a groan.

“Who’s winning now?” She releases my cock long enough to spit into her palm, then slides it back down my length. My vision goes blurry, and I consider taking the L, which would also kind of be a W for me and an RIP for Howard either way.

“Do not swab yourself for DNA afterward,” she orders me.

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t dream of it,” I say shakily. “Neither of us is collecting evidence, right?”

“Right,” she breathlessly agrees. The pull and tug on my cock feels so fucking good that again, I consider throwing in the towel and letting her win. But I’m desperate to hear what it sounds like when Morticia loses control. So I grab her fingers, the ones still gripping the knife, and use my other hand to pull the stretchy fabric away from her stomach.

“What are you⁠—”

I move our hands until her blade rests against the material.

“Nothing you don’t want to give me,” I remind her. Then I wait as she sucks in a ragged breath and exhales on a slow shudder. Once, twice. On her third shaky breath, her fingers twitch forward, and she pushes the point of the metal into the fabric, creating a tiny slice. It’s the permission I need to drag the steel all the way across the center of her bodysuit, parting it cleanly without letting the blade touch her skin.

“Good fucking girl,” I murmur when the weak light reveals a pale section of her belly. Her breathing’s erratic as I release her hand so I can slip both of mine into the opening I’ve created, moving one up to her breast and the other down to her cunt. She makes an ungh sound when I pinch her nipple and her clit at the same time.

“Shhh,” I caution, not bothering to hide my smug satisfaction at making her make such undignified noises. “The neighbors.”

She nods shakily, but when I dip my index finger into the arousal that’s pooled between her legs and slick it upward, she gives a strangled laugh.

“Gomez! If you want me to be… fuck… be quiet, then stop being so goddamn good at this.”

Like hell am I letting her win now. I use my size and position to my advantage, pressing my body so close that she has to bend her wrist at an impossible angle to get to my cock.

“Cheating,” she gasps as I drape myself over her so I can sink my middle finger into her hot little cunt while working her clit with my thumb.

“I told you, no such thing for us,” I reply. “Give it up, Morticia. Come on my fingers and let me take care of that bad man for you.”

“I d-don’t need you to…” But it’s too late. Her pussy starts to convulse.

“That’s right, killer,” I whisper as her spine bows and her breath leaves her lungs in shudders. “Let go. Let go and give it to me.”

A strangled, desperate cry accompanies her orgasm as it travels through her body and she jerks in my arms, and I have a flash of something familiar, an echo that doesn’t fit inside this closet. But it’s gone as fast as it arrived, and I stroke her and pet her and murmur encouragements until her shakes subside into adorable little tremors. After fifteen years of hearing people drop the performance in session, I’ve learned that everyone sounds like someone I’ve heard before when they finally let go.

When she sags against my chest, I find her ear and whisper, “I win.”

“Fuck,” she says raggedly, “you.”

“You tried that. Didn’t work.” Even though my dick’s screaming for release, satisfaction laces my tone. “And a deal’s a deal.”

When she doesn’t answer, I reluctantly pull my hands away from her body and spin her to face me. My right hand is wet, and I pull my mask away from my mouth far enough for me to slide my fingers underneath and suck them clean.

“Fuck, Morticia. You taste so sweet.”