The End of Me (The Single Lady Spy #1)

The End of Me (The Single Lady Spy #1) Page 30

The look on Bogart’s face, was the same one he got. Mostly it was the fake smile, with the heartbroken eyes. Almost like his lips couldn’t convince the rest of his face, he was happy.

I wondered if I was easy to read or if I was more stone-faced.

I finished my glass of wine and curled into the pillows and cushions. The couch was soft. I closed my eyes, but they opened almost immediately from fear. I didn’t like being in the wide open.

I got up and stumbled down the hall farther. I opened door after door until I reached a set of double doors.

I opened them, instantly smelling him in the air. I searched the wall for the light switch. When I clicked it, rope lighting in the ceiling and windowsills lit the room up.

The room was ridiculous. I couldn’t even imagine him ever needing a room like it. I closed the doors and crossed to the extra-large king-sized bed. It was made and pristine, like every inch of the unlived-in home.

I turned to find another set of double doors. I opened them to discover the walk-in closet. It was the size of a bedroom. Ladies’ clothes, in a few different sizes, filled a tiny corner of the closet. That disturbed me. I closed the doors and looked around at the clothes. He had so many suits, it looked like it was a department store.

I kicked my shoes off and noticed how plush the carpet was on my toes.

I flopped onto the floor and curled up under his suits. The room smelled like him. I reached up and jerked a suit free of the hanger and laid it down, taking in deep breaths of the smell of him.

My mind played tricks on me. It lied to me about what it would be like, if a man like Servario loved a girl like me.

It would be more like Romeo and Juliet and less like Casablanca. We would both end up dead.

I closed my eyes and felt safe in the small room, no one would look for me in.

Chapter Thirteen – Three’s a crowd

I woke to a sound I didn’t recognize.

It sounded like people but then it didn’t. It was muffled and then it was loud again, like it moved in waves. I blinked and opened the door a tiny crack. Figures moved in the dark. I heard moaning and a girl making a sound, I was certain I had made with him.

I stopped breathing, closing the door silently.

With it closed, I pressed my hand against the back of the hardwood and waited for my stomach to drop back down. He was having sex… in his bed… with me in the house. Did he know I was there, in the closet? Was this purposeful?

The reality of the whole situation didn’t filter in slowly, it slammed my brain hard. I was his prisoner, his captive, his pawn. I had fooled myself into believing he might have cared about me. Instead, he was setting me up again, only this time he wanted me to hurt. I had let the mission become getting him to dominate me again, instead of finding the Burrow.

It dawned on me that I could have stayed with Coop, Luce, and Jack. I could have made it work with them as a team finding answers. Deep down, I had wanted to come back.

I wanted the things he made me feel, fear… anger… shame… desperation… pleasure. The pleasure was the worst.

The rhythmic sound of the girl got louder.

I took a breath and ignored my basic human senses, which told me not to look, and put my hand on the knob again. I wanted to see it.

I turned the knob and opened the door a crack.

My eyes had adjusted to the dim light, making it easier to see them. The tanned complexion of his broad back and rounded shoulders, looked stunning in the moonlight. He thrust and I could almost feel him inside of me. The door was open only wide enough for my one eye to see through, and yet, I saw it all. Her legs lifted to his shoulders, pressing against his chest to arch her hips better. He sat up, pumping wildly. The sounds escaping her intensified with the slamming of his body against, and inside, of hers. His firm, rounded ass flexed with each mighty strike as his fingers dug into her thighs, dragging her back to him. His head dropped back as a slight moan escaped his lips. I barely caught it, over the spasms going on inside of her body, making her scream and writhe. I was jealous of her but for the wrong reason. I envied her, the release she was getting.

He chuckled and patted her thigh, “Steve will see you out.” He climbed off the bed and walked, still erect with a condom on, to the bathroom.

She climbed off the bed, and pulled her mini dress back to its rightful spot.

She tousled her long, blonde hair and walked from the room, holding her pumps.

I heard the shower turn on and knew it was my only chance. I waited for the water to sound like it was hitting his skin. The suspense of it all made it feel like a real mission. I knew he liked long showers. I waited until I heard the jets kick in, he liked them to massage his back.

I slipped from the closet, tiptoeing to the door. I turned the handle slowly. My breath was silent, but my heart was beating wildly.

I opened the door very deliberately, trying not to make a sound. Just as I had it open half an inch, it slammed shut and his soaking wet, dripping body pressed into my back.

“I saved the best for you,” he whispered into my neck. I shuddered, “Don’t fucking touch me.” The right kind of jealousy hit when his dirty hands touched me.

He chuckled, “I figured you were used to sharing your men with other women.” That stung.

Cold hatred crossed my face, shutting my body down, “You’re clearly not my kind of man.”

“And yet here you are, my woman," he growled and pressed my face into the door, lifting my skirt, “I just have to know.”

The fight came alive in me. I spun, pushing hard against his chest. He staggered back. I threw open the door, running as fast as I could. In the dark, and disoriented feeling of being in a different house, I was lost instantly.

A light down one of the hallways beckoned to me.

My bare feet slapped against the tiles, as did his.

He called out to me, taunting me, “I like hunting, Evie. I like chasing the things I want to be on top of.”

I started running on my tiptoes when I realized I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore. I opened a door when I rounded a corner. I ran hard and rounded another corner. I was back in the main sitting room. The house must have been built like an octopus.

I sprinted across the foyer and down the hall he had gone down for his night out. I opened the first door I found and slipped inside. I closed the door and flicked on the light. It was a games room. Billiards and other tables lined the massive space. I flicked the light off and ran for the back of the room. I remembered where the tables were and hid underneath one.

My breath and heartbeat were my only company.

The wait felt like it was an eternity but it was seconds. The suspense was built so high I didn’t think it possible to be more afraid or paralyzed than I was.

I heard the door open but no light came through into the room. It was pitch black, even in the hallway. He must have turned off everything.

I stayed perfectly still, listening for breath or steps but he moved silently.

I crawled farther under the table as my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, I hoped I would be able to see him. I needed to make it to the door.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered and I couldn’t figure where it came from.

I held my breath, frozen in fear and a sickening sort of anticipation.

I waited before creeping forward again.

My left foot was grabbed mid crawl. I screamed and kicked but he dragged me back on the carpet so fast I didn’t stand a chance. I scrambled but he was on me instantly, pressing me into the floor with his weight.

His hot breath licking at my nape.

I didn’t give up the fight until he star-fished my body, pinning my arms and legs out from me.

Somehow he was still able to free one of his hands, dragging it down the side of me.

He lifted my shirt, tickling the side of my body.

“Stop!”

He kissed the back of my neck, “You don’t mean that.”

He was right. I was horrified at myself and the fact I was growing excited as his hand slipped down my thigh. The fabric of my skirt rustled as he dragged it up my body. He slid his thick fingers up my spread legs to my ass cheeks and then down between my thighs.

“I need to know.”

I shook my head, whispering into the carpet, “Don’t touch me. I don’t care what you have to know. Why don’t you go find yourself another whore, if you’re not done?”

I could hear the smile in his reply, “Evie, I want to know if you liked watching me with that whore.”

Shame filled me. I knew what he would find inside of my panties.

He let go of my body slightly and arched my ass up with his other hand. He pulled my underwear to the side, dipping his finger between my lips. I felt him slipping in the wetness there, the wetness caused by my watching him fuck someone else.

He moaned when he discovered my shameful secret. “I had a feeling, what I might find.”

I hated that he was pleased by the perverse thing I had done, and proud of the things he had made me like, and want. My body was trembling in frozen delight, waiting for the fingers inside of me to move.

But they didn’t. He kept them there, completely still and began kneading my ass with his other hand.

My hips tried to rotate against him to try to force him to move, but he pressed me back down with his free hand.

When I stopped moving, he lifted my shirt up to my shoulders. He planted hot kisses along my back ribs and spine, still not moving his fingers.

My breath picked up, my body was ready to convulse. His kisses lowered to my ass cheeks. He dragged my underwear between the cheeks.

His words on the plane about fucking my ass started to play over and over in my head. He wouldn’t, would he? I would fight him to the death on it. No matter what.

I jumped when I felt his teeth on my ass. He bit, not hard but enough to make me tense.

“Relax,” he spoke softly and then bit again.

I didn’t like the biting, I wanted the fucking but he refused to do the thing I wanted.

He murmured sweetly to my ass cheeks, “You liked watching me, didn’t you?” His breath caressed my skin.

I shook my head, “No.”

He jerked his finger inside my pussy. I cried out into the carpet as he thrust, pumping his fingers in and out.