Page 114 of Lucky Shot
Thank you. I mean that.
Loren Van Doren
I know.
I bite the inside of my lip and contemplate messaging Roux. I don’t because I’m not sure if he knows that I’m aware of the Trevor situation. So I don’t say anything. I wait until my boyfriend is home and tell him.
Clicking out of my texts, I open the messaging app and scroll until I find my dead text thread with Max. It’s still empty. Just me constantly asking if he’s okay. No response. I’m not sure who else to ask or what to do. Sighing, I decide that maybe I’ll see if my boyfriend has heard anything or has any ideas.
The word makes me grin. Boyfriend. It feels so inadequate and yet, what else is he? Soulmate? Pfft. That just sounds fucking corny. He is the puck to my hockey stick.
My corniness knows no bounds. I sputter laughter at my own lame thoughts and jump when Demi walks in with an amused smile. His amusement fades as his eyes turn dark with heat.
I’m sitting against his pillows in a sexy little nightie, lace stockings, and a thong that presses my dick to my stomach and makes it poke out the top. In hindsight, they aren’t made for men and their extra appendage between their legs. I still like it, though.
Around my neck is my PRETTY collar, and I tried like hell to make my hair sexy, but I’m a little unclear as to what that means. How is hair sexy? Somehow I managed to get it braided, though it’s already falling out.
“I uh… my friend messaged,” I say because if I don’t speak, the room is going to burst into flames from the charge that’s dancing between us.
“Okay,” Demi says, pulling his hoodie over his head. I get a quick glimpse of his stomach before his t-shirt covers it again. “What friend and why does that matter right now?”
I swallow as I try to remember what it is we’re talking about. It’s difficult right now to think of anything… except… Demi moving toward me. Like a fucking predator.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “His name isn’t Trevor, which we knew.” My words make Demi pause. “His name is Daniel Rollins-Alabaster, but I think you can just tell Roux that he’s been ‘neutralized.’”
Demi tilts his head, frowning at me. “What does that mean?”
“It means that I think my friend might be a little crazy, but that this guy isn’t going to hurt Roux ever again. I doubt he’s going to be able to hurt anyone.”
“You really do know a hitman,” he says, amused.
I shrug. “He won’t tell me any details, even when I ask. Which I’m glad about, even if not knowing kind of drives me crazy. But… if he isn’t a hitman, I think it’s safe to say thatheknows one.”
“Is he dead?” Demi asks.
Again, I shrug. “He won’t tell me anything other than he’s been neutralized.”
He nods, a slow bob of his head as he considers this. “Noted.”
“Did… Sid say why he doesn’t like me?” I ask, becoming more and more breathless as the seconds pass.
Demi shakes his head. “I tried to bring it up a few times but he remained evasive. I didn’t feel it was the appropriate place to push.”
“Oh.”
“Anything else?”
“Like what?” I ask.
“I don’t know. You seemed to want to distract me from thoroughly fucking you when I walked in the door, so I’m just checking to see if there are any other profound announcements you would like to make.”
“Well,” I say as I drop my phone to the bed and shift so I’m on my knees. I’m not sure how his expression changes, but my breath catches as I look at him. “I want to feel you for a week, Demi,” I whisper. “Make all my doubts and fears go away. All I want to know when I leave tomorrow is that you love me, and you’ll be here waiting for me at the end of the season.”
“Fuck,” Demi says. He’s on me between one blink and the next. His hands grasp my ass, sliding me across the bed until I’m flush against him and his mouth is welded to mine. He kisses me just like I need. Commanding. Controlling. Unhinged. Devouring. He steals my breath and my will to do anything but live in this moment.
“You’re my fucking oxygen, Pretty,” he growls as he climbs onto the bed. I’m gripping him tightly, having lost all balance and strength. “But I’ll make sure you feel me every time you inhale.”
He doesn’t give me time to answer before his mouth is back on mine. His fingers dig into my bare ass, only being covered with the smooth fabric of my nightie. Demi loves when I wear them. I think he prefers them to dresses, though he seems equally awed when I’m in either. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but he’s ravenous when I wear a nightie, while when I’m in a dress, he just stares at me with such reverence that I blush.
