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“Beg for my forgiveness Maggie.”
She whimpered around my fingers and pulled them free enough to speak, her voice broken and desperate. “Please forgive me Richie. I’m sorry. Please. I won’t do it again. Forgive me.”
I slammed back into her hard enough to shove her body forward on the bed. “Next time I catch you with a client I’ll kill both of you.”
Her body shook under me but I kept denying her, holding her on the edge with every deep thrust and every stinging slap. I reached around and gripped her throat from the side, not hard enough to cut off air completely, just enough to keep her focused on the way my cock owned her ass. I pulled out once more and dragged the head of my cock through the mess of her own slick and the blood still smeared across her skin before forcing myself back inside in one slow, brutal push that made her moan into the mattress.
I buried myself to the hilt and came hard, flooding her tight asshole, growling against the back of her neck as I pumped every thick drop deep inside her. My hips jerked through the last few pulses while her body stayed locked under mine, still denied her orgasm.
We stayed locked together, breathing ragged, bodies slick with sweat, blood, and cum. The dead man lay beside us, eyes glassy, throat a ruined mess.
I released her and pulled out of her slowly. A thick, pearly trickle of cum leaked from her stretched, well-fucked asshole onto the ruined sheets as she lay there panting, chest heaving, body streaked crimson. Her ass was still red from my hand.
The room settled into heavy silence. Her breathing slowed unevenly beneath me. She looked past me at the body, then back at me.
“You made a mess.”
“And whose fault is that?”
She studied me and touched the edge of my jaw.
I leaned down and kissed her again before pulling back and standing.
She sat up behind me, her hair clinging to her shoulders in damp strands, her chest rising and falling like none of this had unsettled her.
“Put on some clothes,” I told her without turning. “We need to get rid of this body.”
She let out a soft laugh behind me, like I just said something entertaining instead of necessary.
“You don’t gotta run home to your little girlfriend, Richie.”
My hand stilled where it rested on the edge of the bed.
I turned slowly, watching her as she wiped at the blood on her arm with the back of her hand, completely unconcerned.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She rolled her eyes, dragging her gaze up to mine with exaggerated patience.
“Don’t lie to me, Richie,” she said, her voice lilting, edged with that Boston accent she never bothers to soften. “I saw you with her.”
She shifted on the bed, uncaring about the body beside her, one leg folding under as she tilted her head slightly.
“You weren’t exactly keeping it a secret. She was right there with you at your family’s funeral.”
Something tightened in my chest.
“That has nothing to do with you.”
She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head like I’d just proven her point.
“Yeah, that’s rich,” she muttered. “You get all worked up watching me do my job, but you get to parade your little girlfriend around like I’m not supposed to notice.”
I turned fully toward her then, closing the distance in two steps. My hand planted against the wall beside her head, the other catching her jaw and forcing her to look at me.
“I can because you’re mine, Maggie,” I said, leaving no room for argument. “And I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
She smiled slowly, like she just got exactly what she wanted out of me.
