Page 22 of Lethal Lover

“So, is that a yes?”

“I’ll come to dinner with you. Yes.” I hear the smile on her lips and I meet it with one of my own.

“Good. I’ll come backstage to get you when the show is over. I’ll be in my favorite seat, and I’ll have so many roses, your dressing room won’t hold them all.” I tap my hand on the table as Slicklooks up at me. He looks like he needs to say something, so I cut her loose. “I’ll talk later, baby. See you tonight.”

“Bye…” I hang up as her voice still hangs in the air and turn to see what Slick wants.

“It’s ordered. Ramiro will call a guy he knows. Twenty grand up front, twenty when it’s done, and a one-percent cut of the profit.” Slick knows how to wheel and deal. I’m pleased with that arrangement.

“Perfect. Now, let’s get my coffee and get out of here. I have a busy day. We have three deliveries before we can get freshened up for the show. I have a feeling tonight is going to be a sell-out.”

We meet Adam as he leaves the front counter and heads to the door, where we’re headed. I have a terrific feeling about all of this. I’m making moves now, and things will only continue to improve as I go.

14

ELENA

As promised, as soon as I’m finished with my evening, Liam is here, standing at my dressing room door waiting to escort me in. I keep it locked all the time now, even between sets. I feel too afraid to leave it unlocked even for a second. I keep feeling like whoever is sending me these threatening letters knows me personally. One of them called me Lanie, which is something only my mother calls me, and only when I tell her I’m scared or upset.

“Hey,” I mewl, kissing his cheek as I unlock the door and let us in. “You’re back here fast tonight.”

“I can’t wait to see my girl. Sue me.” He follows me, getting grabby before we even have the door shut. His hands paw at me, working zippers and buttons on my costume, and I lock the door behind us. I refuse to have sex in this room, but we’ve gotten pretty hot and heavy a few times.

It’s just too much of a public place for me to feel comfortable doing that. I think he’s crazy and wild, and I’d take a few risks, but I don’t want to be right in the middle of things if the director—or God forbid, Warren—knocks on the door. Still, I indulgehim a little, letting him peel my clothing off and kiss me until my lips are raw and my tits ache from being kneaded by his strong hands.

“What about dinner? You’re going to wear yourself out and not even be hungry.” I chide him and peck him on the lips before I turn to grab my T-shirt and jeans to dress. He lets me walk away, but his eyes follow me as he leans on the vanity and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s gotten into you, anyway?” We hold each other’s gaze while I pull my shirt on then step into my jeans. At his behest, I no longer wear a bra when he picks me up. He likes it. I feel slightly off about it, but it’s not worth arguing about. We never go in public, anyway. I’m usually escorted straight home or to his house, where we have sex, and it makes undressing a bit easier.

“I told you… can’t a guy be obsessed with his girlfriend’s body without being questioned?” He’s playful tonight. I like that. There are times when he’s in a foul mood and I struggle to cheer him up despite my always cheerful personality. Lately, though, it’s been him carrying me. Nina’s death took a major toll on the entire group, and even Trixie isn’t herself. She seems to hate me more, which can only mean she’s jealous that I’m being given these roles, but she also seems to be upset about something else. I swear I saw her covering a bruise on her arm with makeup too.

“Well, I like it.” Zipping up my jeans, I reach for my sneakers and jam my feet into them, and Liam has my bag hung from his shoulder before I can protest.

I glance at the stack of mail on the corner of my vanity and wonder if I should read any of it. There’s another pink envelope similar to the last two that were frightening to me. If Liam reads one of those, he’ll go off tap. I’ve seen him get upset, and he hasa nasty temper. Thankfully, it’s only been directed at me once, and I rectified that with a sincere apology. I didn’t mean to be snooping. I thought it was just a watch.

“Well, I like you. Now let’s go home where I can love you… a lot.” He winks at me and leads me out of my dressing room, and I have one last look at the stack of mail. Maybe I should tell him tonight that I’ve been getting scary shit. I hesitated, not telling him about the previous letter because he seemed very upset that evening about something. He told me it was his father’s endless lectures, which I tend to believe, but I knew my news would only sour his mood further.

I clutch his bicep and lock up behind us and then walk with him out the back to the waiting car. If I tell him when he’s in a good mood, it could go one of two ways. His good mood could cushion the blow and detract from some of the negativity that could happen if he gets super upset with the writer of said letters. Or he could lose his good mood entirely and it could ruin our night. Maybe I can wait until after the evening is mostly over. Then we can discuss it, and I can sleep if it upsets him too badly.

For now, I ride to his house in silence as he takes a few business calls and I think about Mr. Flemming’s response to my stalker issue. He told me it’s just show business and that everyone gets mail like that, but when he walked away—home early for the night—Mr. Monroe told me they tell everyone that. He told me to report it to the police because if I’m right and the person who is stalking me is behind the strange acts, he wants real justice. I don’t blame him. I’d want to know who ordered that man to mug me too.

At Liam’s house, I’m barely in the door ten seconds before my clothes are on the ground. I am so hungry, but I don’t mindworking up a stronger appetite first. And he’s so good at making me feel good, so I can’t complain.

“God, I crave you like a line of coke.” His whiskers scrape my tender skin, already partially raw from making out in my dressing room moments ago.

“Yeah? You’re an addict?” I ask as he undoes his belt buckle and sheds his slacks. I work the buttons of his shirt with hasty fingers, struggling to get them loose, so he tears the shirt open and tosses it away.

His body is chiseled and bronzed, and it makes me wonder what he even sees in my pasty white virgin skin, never kissed by the sun. But he doesn’t seem to mind. His lips and hands search every inch of me, pausing at sensual locations to explore me more deeply. He slides his hands around my hips and thighs then hoists me upward. I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the bedroom. “Yeah, baby. I'm addicted to you.” He growls, throwing me onto the bed and taking a moment to admire my naked body in the dim moonlight.

He crawls on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand while his other roams down my abdomen, tracing patterns with his fingernails. Goosebumps prickle across my skin as he teases me with his touch. His fingers find their way lower, between my legs where the silk of my moist heat radiates from within. I moan as he touches me, lightly at first, then vigorously. "You're so wet for me already? My, my... what a dirty girl." He grins wickedly before diving down to taste me, and I arch my back, moaning loudly, and my hands reach for his hair.

"B–Bastard!" I pant, both loving and hating every second of the torture. His tongue and fingers work me into a frenzy, andhe only stops when I'm on the brink of orgasm. "Fuck, enough teasing! I need you now!"

He grins wickedly again as he rises to his knees and grabs some cuffs from the headboard. "God, I love it when you beg," he growls in my ear, his voice a deep rumble that warms the pool between my thighs. He secures my wrists above my head, then nestles between my legs, leaving me spread-eagle and helpless for him to feast upon. "But first..." he whispers in a low, sultry voice.

Without warning, he spanks the side of my ass cheek firmly with his open hand. I squeal in shock as arousal zings through my veins. The stinging echoes between us, and I whimper, wetter than before. "Say, 'Daddy's going to spank his naughty girl,'" he growls between moist bites along my inner thigh.

"Daddy's... Daddy's going to spank his naughty girl," I say breathlessly as another hard smack connects to my skin. I pull at the restraints but only manage to make my wrists hurt. I want to touch him, to tangle my fingers in his hair and pull his face deeper into my pussy, but the damn cuffs are too tight. He chuckles evilly and smacks me again, this time on my other cheek. "Louder now," he purrs as his tongue lazily circles my clit, driving me insane with need.

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