BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(11)

“Yeah. We’re not supposed to resist.” She shook her head and shrugged. “They said I did.”

“Did you?”

She grinned. “Maybe a little. Not really. The guy was wearing a Kim Jong Un mask, and I wasn’t sure he could hear me, so I kept repeating myself. They thought I was being argumentative. And, I may have cussed at him. And threatened him. Then there was the entire gunshot thing.”

“Wait a minute. A what mask? And he shot at you?”

“Kim Jong Un. The Supreme Leader of North Korea.”

“The guy with the hair?”

“The hair and the attitude.” She wrinkled her nose and then leaned forward. “Do you think guys like that have, you know, little dicks?”

I coughed out a laugh. “Guys like what?”

“Guys with the big attitudes. I think big attitude equals little dick.”

If she was right, Cash’s cock would be the size of a peanut. Her theory was amusing. “It’s possible.”

“I think it’s probable,” she said. “Highly probable.”

Her personality was proving to be as – or more – attractive than she was. I leaned over the edge of the desk and locked eyes with her. “What about the gunshot thing? What happened there?”

“He shot at me.”

“Who?”

“Kim Jong Un. He told me to shut up, and I didn’t. I was trying to distract him, so I could give him the packet of money we’re supposed to give them when we get robbed.”

“The dye pack?”

“No. Bait money. It’s money that we’ve logged all the serial numbers down. If they get caught with it or spend it, it’s easy to trace.”

“So, the Supreme leader of North Korea was onto your plan?”

“Obviously, it wasn’t his first bank robbery. He pointed the gun at me and said, ‘Leave that stack over there, sweets’, and he nodded toward the other drawer. I tried to slip it in there anyway. That’s when he shot at me.”

I decided to make her aware of Cash’s theory on the incident. “Maybe it was an accident.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The barrel moved before he shot.” She pointed her index finger at the center of my face, and then quickly moved it to the side. “Boom!”

I was shocked that she picked up on such a thing. “You noticed that?”

“I watch a lot of Netflix. You’d be surprised what you can learn from NCIS.”

If she was right, Cash’s accident wasn’t an accident at all. It was intentional. I stroked my beard. “Interesting.”

After deciding Cash’s accident was nothing of the sort, I looked her over. She twirled her hair innocently and gazed beyond me. I took a quick glance into her blouse’s cleavage. Her voluptuous breasts hung heavily into the cups of her bra, heaving with each breath she took.

My mind jockeyed back and forth between figuring out a way to get rid of her and devising a way to keep her around long enough to fuck her. In a matter of seconds, my cock began to rise against the worn denim of my jeans.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said, hoping that the change of subject matter would lessen my level of arousal. “It sounds awful.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. It got me here, didn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” I studied her, and then faked having an epiphany. “Are you the girl that chained the bicycle to the rack this morning?”

She smiled. “That’d be me. Why?”

“I own the building next door, and I saw someone ride up this morning. I just put two and to together.”

Her eyes went wide. “You own the entire building?”

“Primarily for business reasons.”

“You don’t live there?”

She was too smart for her own good. “I do, but I’m starting renovations. I need a place to stay for six months or so. I was considering uptown, but if there’s something here, I might be interested.”

She pulled her desk drawer open and removed a ring of keys. “Would you like to see it?”

I glanced at her breasts, and then met her gaze. I didn’t want to see it. I’d seen it before. Multiple times.

I wanted to shove her full of dick. Doing so in her office wasn’t the best of ideas, but fucking her in Preston’s loft was a fabulous idea. I stood and motioned toward the door. “I’d love to. I’ll follow you.”





SIX - Andy





Sex on a stick was standing so close to me that I could reach out and touch him. Overflowing with anxious energy, I unlocked the door and gestured into the open space. “Go right ahead.”

The apartment was over two thousand square feet of living space. The concrete floors had been stained to resemble brown marble, and the walls were painted an off-white. In one corner was the kitchen. In another, a large bedroom that overlooked the street below. The remaining floorspace was open, giving the tenant the freedom to decorate it into whatever he or she chose.

He stepped into the center of the room and promptly turned around. From head to toe, he looked me over, taking his sweet time to do so.

It seemed he was more interested in looking at me than the space.