Page 26 of Betting Blind

I watch the rise and fall of her chest as she inhales deeply over and over, trying to calm the high that I know is coursing through her. I fight every dark desire to lunge forward and take her against the bullet-riddled concrete pillar behind her.

The wail of sirens pulls us from the haze of slaughter that we find ourselves trapped in. “We need to move. They’re going to torch it,” I say and reach for her.

She jerks her arm away and turns without a word, heading for a bike parked in the shadows. “Fuck me sideways,” she curses when she pulls her helmet on and goes to sit on the bike.

“Is that a request?” I call after her. I’m only half joking because a part of me wants her to be serious.

“They broke my chain!” she screeches and actually stomps her foot. Adorable. My chest swells and I’m nearly overcome with the desire to wrap her in my arms.

“Walk it to the back alley. I’ll give you a ride.” Thankfully she doesn’t argue because the sirens are blaring now, and I know that there are people all over this building. We disappear into the shadows of the alley. “Where to?” I ask her as she climbs on the back of my bike and cradles my body between her thighs.

She directs me to a vacant lot eleven blocks to the east. When I pull in and kill my engine, I spot a blacked-out sedan parked beside a dumpster. I peer up at her as she climbs off my bike and pulls off her helmet. She thought of everything, including a back-up plan to her back-up plan. I want her to be mine. This beautiful, devious, chaotic woman. Images of her from my security feed dance across my mind, and I can’t hold it any longer.

I stand and take her helmet from her, dropping it to the ground with a thud. She watches me with a wicked glint inher eye as I place my hands on her hips and pull her until she is flush against me. I can feel her heavy breathing and see the way her pulse is fluttering in her neck. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline, or maybe she feels it too. Either way, she doesn’t fight me.

I guide her back to my bike and she straddles the seat, sitting with her back to the handlebars. I sit down in front of her and drop my own helmet to the dirt. Her eyes drag a line of fire along my face as she takes me in. My fingers twitch with the desire to wrap around her braid and tug, but I don’t move. Instead, I wait patiently for her to size me up and decide how she wants to play the game. Her legs brush against the inside of my thighs as I cage her in and she reaches out to trace her fingers up both of my bare forearms.

A shiver racks my body as her light touch glides across my skin. Neither of us speaks as we’re drawn closer to each other, wrapped up in the moment. Emelia’s eyes flutter closed and her chin tilts upward. That’s all that I need to surge forward. My lips slant over hers and my tongue traces a line along the seam. She opens with a breathy moan and then our tongues are at war, battling for dominance.

My cock throbs against the seam of my pants, but tonight isn’t about me. I want to show her how I would worship her. I pull away and she whines quietly. Chuckling, I press my palm against her chest to guide her back and hook my fingers in her waistband. My eyes find hers in a desperate search for approval. She nods once and bites her lower lip. It takes all that I have not to explode in my pants right then and there.

We awkwardly shimmy her pants down her legs until she is bare to me on the back of my bike. My eyes travel slowly up and down her body as she repositions herself on the seat,taking note of all the scars and bruising. Then her legs fall open again and all my coherent thoughts leave my body. I can’t focus on anything other than my need to taste her. I grab her hips and drop open-mouth kisses to her inner thighs, climbing higher until I reach her center.

Emelia cants her hips upwards in a silent plea for the friction that I know she’s desperate for. I oblige, because I am ever the gentleman. My tongue finds her slick folds, and I shudder as the first taste of her hits my tongue. My hips surge forward as I lean over the back of my bike and press against the metal. She lets out a quiet moan as I move the tip of my tongue in slow circles around her clit. I close my eyes and fight the tingle traveling down my spine.

She’s so wet and ready for me. It would be so easy just to push inside her, pump her full of me, and claim her as mine, but I shove my lust aside and ignore my dripping cock. I slide my left hand up her body and press my palm into the valley between her breasts, holding her in place. My other hand travels down and I slip two fingers into her core. Her muscles quiver around my fingers and I feel my cock throb harder. I’m not leaving with dry pants, that much is clear to me.

I take up a steady rhythm with my tongue and curl my fingers inward, finding and stroking that spot inside her that sends her back arching and her fists tightening in my hair. “Oh fuck,” she hisses and breaks the silent spell surrounding us. Her hips buck up against my face and mine jerk forward, pressing my cock against the hard metal of the machine underneath us again. My cock throbs heavily and I feel a small jet of cum pulse into my boxers. I freeze and clench my jaw so tight that it pops. The pain in my groin is almost unbearable as I fight my impending release.

“That’s it, Angel, come apart for me. Let me see you break on my fingers. Let me taste your release,” I coax her. My voice is low and gravelly with unbridled lust. She pulls my face back down to her and writhes beneath my touch. I feel her walls spasm and clench around my fingers as she plummets over the edge, and I can’t stop myself. My hips pump forward slowly, the friction of grinding against my bike enough to send me spiraling. My cock jerks, and I feel my cum soaking into my boxers. Fucking fuck. I stand and brace my palms on my seat, watching her struggling to catch her breath.

After a few moments, she pulls her pants back on and picks her helmet up. “That was probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and the orgasm wasn’t too bad a way to end the night.”

I chuckle and pull my helmet back on, tracing my tongue along my lips and savoring the taste of her. “Let’s do it again soon.” It isn't a request. I will physically need to do this again soon. She is like the worst drug, and I am the addict who needs that hit as often as possible.

She starts walking toward her car and a feeling of deja vu hits me as I watch the sway of her hips. The sirens pick up again and on my next inhale I smell smoke. The warehouse must be blazing now. I tug on the wet crotch of my pants and kick my bike into gear. Emelia gives me a salute as she pulls out and disappears into the night.

I, on the other hand, sit for a few moments and try to make sense of what just happened. I found Emelia, a secretary for a wealthy businessman, elbow-deep in murder and gore. Then I proceeded to help her continue to murder, followed immediately by feasting on her on the back of my bike. I camein my pants like a fucking teenager, and then she just left. And I let her go.

“What the fuck just happened?” I whisper to myself as I head back home in search of relief for my still aching cock and some dry pants.

Chapter 16

Silas

It’s been two weeks since Hayden found and freed the women trapped in a sex trafficking scheme.

Two weeks since I’ve had any communication with my ECP.

I stare at my phone screen dejectedly and will it to light up with a message. Am I being ridiculous over a girl that I’ve met in person twice? Maybe. Could I try to text her? Maybe. Am I going to stop moping around and do something about it? Absolutely the fuck not.

“Hello? Silas? Are you there? It’s your turn!” Randy’s voice crackles across my headset, and I jerk back to attention in my gaming chair.

“I’m not really feeling this today. You guys can campaign without me. I’ll text you later.” I power off the system and cut off their replies. This fucking sucks. I push my chair away from the desk and roll across the hardwood floor, coming to a stop at the edge of the rug beside my bed. I need to find something to do, but I don’t have the energy to do anything at all except for wallow in my self-pity and rejection.

Declan pops his head into my room and clears his throat. “How’s it going with Emerson? Any new updates?”

I roll my eyes and sink lower into my chair. Of course, the asshole would want to talk business right now. “Nothing new to report,” I mutter and fold my arms across my chest. “They run a tight ship and are not very trusting of new people.”

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