BAKER (Devil's Disciples Book 1)(18)

She wrinkled her nose. “Screwing a guy on the day you meet him is gross.”

“No, it’s not. There’s the entire element of not really knowing who he is that makes everything that much more exciting. Being boned by a stranger is awesome. Once you get to know a guy, things change. They get comfortable. Sex gets boring. Then, they lie.”

She sighed. “Tell me he wore protection.”

“He left his socks on. They had guitars on them. Does that count?”

“Eww. That’s gross.”

“His cock was like velvet. A lot of things came to mind while he was fucking me with it. Gross wasn’t one of them.”

“Are you going to do it again?”

“I hope so. Maybe until I get to know him.” I chuckled. “Then, I’ll have to find another stranger to screw me.”

“Don’t bring him here,” she warned.

“Never crossed my mind.”

She huffed out a phony sigh. “Where?”

“Where what?”

“Where’d you guys do it?”

“In the pink,” I said with a smile of reassurance. “I won’t let a guy run it in my butt unless we’ve been doing it for a while.”

“Oh. My. God.” Her mouth fell open. “That wasn’t what I…never mind.”

“It’s true. If you let a guy poke it in your butt on the first date, you’re a skank. I’m not a skank. Not even close.”

“You weren’t on a date,” she howled. “He just strolled into your office.”

I shrugged. “If he strolled into your office, you’d be the one walking funny, not me.”

“I doubt that.” She said snidely. “I wouldn’t let him--”

I cut her short with an exaggerated scoff. “You wouldn’t be able to tell him no.”

“Oh really?” She gave me a look of disbelief. “I think I could.”

I shook my head. “One word describes him. Only one.”

“What’s that?”

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Irresistible.”



I chained my bike to the lamppost and took a quick glance at Baker’s window. As with each of the days that had passed since we met, he wasn’t there. I wondered if I was alone in my belief that the sex was awesome, or if he was simply busy doing something entrepreneurial.

Becoming attached to men wasn’t something that I let happen. My relationship with Baker, if anything, would remain sexual, and that would be the extent of it. I didn’t expect him to provide me much more than a little conversation and a lot of dick. If my expectations were met, my life would remain uncomplicated, and I wouldn’t be let down when he eventually lied to me, cheated on me, or left me.

I dismissed his repeated absence and rushed up the stairs. After unlocking the door and kicking it open, I relaxed into my magical chair. I found it difficult to believe someone was going to pay me for the time I spent at work, as there was nothing meaningful for me to do.

I looked around the room. Although my first few paychecks were allotted to reducing old debt, I daydreamed about the day I could decorate my office with pictures, vases, and other items that would personalize it.

While I was in mid-thought, there was a faint bang against the door. Then, another. And, another.

The door burst open.

Wearing skinny jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers, a delicate man in his late twenties stood in the doorway. His product-infused bangs were situated high above his pale forehead, and pointing skyward.

When our eyes met, the corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “Oh. Wow. Are you the new manager?”

I smiled in return and straightened my posture. “I sure am.”

Donning a huge grin on his boyish face, he stepped inside and pushed the door ajar. “I’m Stephen Hinkle. I live in 2-A.”

“I’m Andy.” I looked him over, and wondered how much he weighed. Less than me, I decided. “Andy Winslow. What can I do for you?”

“There’s been some odd noises coming from upstairs.”

I felt if he continued to stand, that his bones may break from the stress. I gestured toward the empty chair in front of my desk. “What kind of noises?”

He looked the chair over, brushed the surface of the seat clean, and then sat down. “Strange ones. Drilling sounds. Pounding.” He crossed his legs. “And an awful scraping sound. You know, like when the construction guys were cutting the concrete sidewalks across the street.”

I was intrigued. Before I could comment, he continued.

“You weren’t here when they were doing that, so you probably don’t know what it sounds like. It’s nothing short of hideous.”

His fingernails were freshly manicured, and looked much better than mine. I hid my hands beneath the edge of my desk. “I can only imagine. Maybe the tenant above you is making something. Have you heard any odd noises before now?”

“When Preston lived here, there were always noises. Arguing, shouting, people coming and going throughout the night. But nothing like this. Since he left, it’s been quiet. At least until this week. I thought someone had moved in, but Michael and I knocked on the door. No one answered.”

I realized he lived below Preston-Todd’s former apartment, and found it odd that he heard anything from the unoccupied space – short of Baker’s hips slapping against my ass on Monday afternoon.