“Oh, fuck, just like that. Take it all the way to the back of your throat.”
The slurping noise from the woman on her knees a few feet from me makes me clench my jaw. The smell of cigars and sex coats the air, making me wish I didn’t have to breathe in the stench.
“Oh, right there. Swallow it all,” Nick mumbles as the slurping noise grows louder, and he grunts his release.
Fucking hell, this is why I like to work alone. Being in the back of a seedy strip club after hours is making my skin crawl.
One last job. I keep reminding myself why I’m here. I’m going to have to scrub my body with sandpaper when I leave this place. I’ll need a scalding hot shower and might even burn my clothes. God knows what’s happened in the very seat I’m sitting in.
“You want her next? Maybe she can pull that stick out of your ass.” Nick laughs at his own joke as the woman pulls herself to her feet. She stumbles as she gets up, almost falling over in her heels. Who knows what she’s on. From how rail thin she is and the glazed look in her sunken eyes, I’m guessing something heavy.
She steps towards me like my silence is an invitation, but I stop her in her tracks with a stare. I’d rather cut my fucking dick off than let her anywhere near it.
“Come on, man. Loosen the fuck up,” Nick says as he adjusts himself and grabs a beer from the table next to him.
“I’m leaving in five.” I clip my words, making them hard. This meeting was supposed to start twenty minutes ago, and I have shit to do. Okay, maybe not shit to do, but I have somewhere else I want to be.
Stuck in the back of a strip club, waiting for the boss to show up, is not my idea of a good time. I took this job for one reason: a diversion. I need these guys, and I’m on a time crunch. Time that is ticking away and being wasted at this very moment. I normally like to work alone, but this job is paying me enough that I can finally retire. I’ll be set for life if everything goes according to plan. If being the operative word.
These guys think we’re just robbing a bank, which we are, but I’m after something else. A bank job isn’t enough to have me hanging up my gun, but my real reason for breaking into the bank will give me the good life. There’s a very important deposit box inside that vault, and that’s my moneymaker. That box is the real reason I’ve hooked up with these clowns, and they’re the only way I can get into it with the time I’ve got left.
No one needs to know I was ever in there, which is why I need a robbery to go down. I need chaos to help create a diversion while I get what I’m really after.
“You’ll stay until Heavy gets here,” Nick says, like he can make me stay.
“You forget who asked who to do this job.” I start to rise from my chair, like I don’t give a shit about the job one way or another. They asked me for my help, but only because I’d planted seeds for them to do so. I don’t want them to know how much this job means to me. It’s better if they think I don’t give a shit.
Just then, Heavy walks in.
“Out!” he snaps, and the girls who have been roaming around scurry from the room.
Lazily, I drop back down into my chair and wait. Heavy pours himself a drink before making his way over to where Nick and I are sitting, a few more of his crew coming in behind him and joining us.
Heavy is anything but heavy. He’s barely five foot, balding, and wears the most God-awful suits I’ve ever seen. The only reason he’s got himself this little makeshift gang is because it used to be his father’s until he passed a few years back.
What was once a decent crew turned into a bunch of lazy fucks who clearly aren’t making ends meet. Seeing as they all latched on to the stupid idea of robbing a Federal bank, these idiots are dumber than I thought.
Or maybe Heavy’s as crazy as I’ve heard he is, and he just doesn’t care. Crazy is dangerous and makes for sloppy work. Crazy is hard to understand and not easy to predict. I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with this crew, and I’m starting to have second thoughts. My doubts are bubbling to the surface, and I think maybe it’s time to call this whole operation off.
Right until Heavy drops a stack of pictures and papers on to the table, making my heart jump into my throat.
I sit perfectly still, trying to appear completely unfazed by what I see. The real reason I want to call off the job. I don’t make a single move to indicate I know who the woman is. Her pictures are scattered across the table for all these men to leer at, and I’m cool and calm on the outside. On the inside, though, I’m losing my shit.
I’ve always been known for my control, and for the first time in my life, I feel a crack split in my facade. The mask I so carefully wear starts to slip, and I have to rein myself in.
“Tessa Morgan.” Heavy says her name like he bought himself a winning lottery ticket. I should have seen this coming, and maybe I did but I ignored it. I don’t even like her name on his lips. She’s too sweet and pure for a man like Heavy to even say her name.
When I knew what bank was my target weeks ago, I started digging up every piece of information I could get my hands on. Tessa stood out to me right away but probably not for the same reasons she stood out to Heavy.
I hate her name on his lips; it makes my stomach clench. I’ve been watching her for weeks already, and I told myself it’s because she’s a part of the job. That’s a lie, because I haven’t watched anyone else at the bank. Just her. I want to watch her now.
Each day my little obsession for her seems to grow. Now I’m so deep there’s no turning back. I have to have her, and I will, by any means necessary.
She’s the reason I keep picking up my phone every ten minutes. I’ve been checking her location. Checking on her.
“What about her?” I manage to ask the question with as much indifference I can muster, but my blood feels like it’s ice, moving through my veins as everyone in the room stares down at the pictures of her. She looks like a fucking angel. My angel. That’s what I thought the first time I’d laid eyes on her, and I still think it every time I see her.
Her reddish-brown hair falls in waves around her face down to the middle of her back. She has honey-colored eyes like I’ve never seen before. I didn’t even know eyes could look like liquid gold. When I first saw her, I was sure they were contacts. After I planted the camera in her apartment, I learned it was her true color. Those gorgeous eyes hypnotize me.
She’s curvy, almost plump, and her short stature makes her seem compact. It’s like I could carry her soft little body around with me, and she’d mold against me perfectly. But what drives me wild about her are the little freckles that pepper her cheeks and her little button nose. It makes her look sexy and innocent, all rolled into this fucking package I can’t get off my mind.
It started with how she looked, but as the days went on, the more I watched her, it became so much more. She truly was a sweet little angel. Not a mean bone in her body. Always has a smile for everyone, but a lot of the time the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. I want to make that smile reach her eyes. Have it directed at me.
Now all these fucks are standing around, staring at her, and I’m trying not to lose my shit.
I know what Heavy’s going to suggest, because I’d thought it myself.
“We’re going to use her to glean information on the bank and get our hands on her access keys. She looks easy enough to seduce.”
“I’m not into chubby chasing,” Nick says, picking up one of the pictures of my angel. I feel my fingers twitch, wanting to grab the blade at my side and slam it through his hand.
“You’ll do what you’re told,” Heavy reminds him, but no way could Nick seduce her. He isn’t charming enough. She’d run from his sleazy advances the first time he tried to come on to her. He’s used to paying women to fuck him.
Heavy’s eyes are on me, but I don’t want to seem eager. If I try to jump in, the situation could blow up in my face and ruin everything.
“Sparrow should do it. The ladies always seem to be after him.” I have no clue what Heavy means by that. Maybe it’s because the whores in his club are always trying to latch on to me, but that’s probably because I don’t look like I’d beat the shit out of them. Like his whole fucking crew does.
“I’m here to make sure the cops don’t show up. I’m cutting the lines and hacking the systems. Those are my skills sets,” I remind him, as if I want no business seducing the girl. I’ll be the one to do it if it’s something he’s going to push. “We don’t need her. I got you the floor plans, schedules, and I can take their system down easy. We don’t need to drag a woman into this, one who can end up identifying us when it’s all finished.”
“Trust me, she won’t be identifying anyone when we’re done with her.” Heavy’s intent is clear. But that’s something I would never allow to happen. “I just want to make sure everyone is on the same page. Let’s not forget she has keys, too. Access to the main vault.”
“And what if shit goes wrong? She could ID me if she slips through our fingers,” I try again, going at him from another angle.
“Why do you care? I hear this is your last job anyways.”
I regret giving him that piece of information, but I had to give him something. I was known for working alone, doing random jobs for crews. Normally, when I did pick up a job with another crew, I still did those jobs alone. Got them what they needed, then stepped out. I had to have a reason why this time I was willing to go in with a whole group, and I used this being my final score as that reason. I told Heavy I wanted to walk away with a lot of money so I could be done. But I have a feeling with all this talk about the girl not walking away and wanting me to get close to her that Heavy doesn’t plan on me walking away either.
About the Author
I’m Alexa Riley! Mom, wife, and business woman by day and smut writer by night. I specialize in the Dirty Date Night reading. I wrote my first book, Owning Her Innocence, because well, I just couldn’t find any daddy books to my liking. So I sat down and just started writing, bringing the fantasies I find myself often dancing to in the dark of night to life, one page at a time.
Alexa Riley is my alter ego. I can’t let the other soccer moms know what I’m up to or the guys at work for that matter. Little do they know that they’ve got nothing on my dirty talk.
I’m here to give you a quick fix of filthy dirty smut. Got a few hours to kill? Then I’m what you’re looking for.