Fatal Justice (Jack Lamburt #1)(29)
Sam fumbled around for the little Derringer he’d dropped, found it, and fired both of its rounds. The dog yelped, released Sam’s throat, and limped out the front door, whimpers of pain coming from him.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, that dog’s a fuckin’ beast.” Sammy moved on his knees and slammed the front door closed. “He almost took my head off.” He felt his neck for blood.
He walked over to Debbie and smacked her in the face again. “Why didn’t you warn me?” His whole body was shaking from anger, his face beet-red. “That dog could’ve killed me,” he screamed at her.
Debbie sat there on the floor, her hands covering her face, crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Sam grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her over to the bearskin rug, and threw her down. He stood over her and smiled, and then he heard her smartphone vibrate in her pocket.
“Gimme that.” He held his hand out.
Debbie reached into her pocket, took out her phone, and gave it to him with a shaky hand. Sammy read the text and laughed.
“Hot stud? Who the fuck is ‘hot stud’?”
Between sobs, Debbie managed to squeak out a reply. “Jack.”
“Oh. Nice, he says he’ll be here in half an hour.” He smiled as he gave her the news. He looked down at the phone, thumbed out a text, and hit send. “Perfect timing, now take off your clothes. I’m going to show you what a hot stud is.”
31
Debbie looked up at him, crossed her arms over her chest, and offered feigned resistance. “No.” After the conversation at the bar and seeing his actions tonight, she had him pegged for what he was. An insecure little man. Napoleon complex to a T. And she knew just how to play him.
“You bitch.” He reared back and slapped her in the face again. She fell backwards onto the rug, and he leaned over and tore her shirt off in one violent motion. He gawked at her near nakedness like a wide-eyed teen witnessing his first porn. He took off his belt and tied it around Debbie’s wrists, then raised them over her head and attached the other end of the belt to a leg of the couch.
She closed her eyes and thought of being tied up and taken by Jack, a vision that, no matter where she was or what she was doing, always aroused her. She felt her nipples tighten. Good, that’ll get his attention.
He reached down with both hands, slid them under her bra, and lifted it up and over her breasts, letting it rest around her neck. He exhaled with a hoot. “Woo-hoo! Holy shit, look at those tits. And those fuckin’ nipples! Halle-fuckin’-lujah.” He rubbed his palms together like a little kid on Christmas morning who was about to tear open his first present.
He grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards the fireplace, never taking his eyes off of her chest. Her arms were extended straight overhead. He let her legs fall and removed her high heels, fondling and smelling them before tossing them aside. “Nice shoes. You have good taste for a bartender.”
He spotted a bottle of red wine on the end table next to an iPad that was all set up to play music. He tapped the play icon, and the low sultriness of Barry White’s “What Am I Gonna Do With You” serenaded them.
He grabbed the wine bottle, popped the cork, filled the two glasses, and did a little two-step to the music. He raised a glass for a toast and downed it.
“To us. A match made in heaven.”
What a bozo. It took all of her strength not to laugh out loud.
He reached down and opened her jeans, then slid them off her legs. He stood and stared, his eyes laser-focused on her sheer thong, his chin resting on his chest, and his voice came out in a whisper that was barely audible. “Oh my God. You are fuckin’ beautiful. Beautiful.” He looked upwards and did the sign of the cross. “Thank you, God.”
He knelt down between her legs and slipped a finger under the top of her panties to slide them down. “Up,” he said in a soft voice, motioning to her hips. She raised her butt just enough for him to slide the panties past her hips and down both legs.
He coddled her panties with both hands, like a newborn baby. He brought them up to his nose and inhaled so deep that Debbie thought he might get dizzy and fall over. He exhaled, eyes closed, with a delirious smile so wide that Debbie knew she had him.
“Please. Stop,” she said, her voice nothing more than a whimper.
“Oh, man, you are so sweet.” He pushed her knees open, leaned forward, and kissed her stomach just below her belly button.
Debbie forced a full-body quiver, then moaned. “Please. Don’t do that.”
He looked up from between her legs. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
“No. Stop.”
He kissed his way down to the top of her pubic hair, then ran his tongue across the top of it. Her fake moan was louder this time. “Oh God… stop.”
He lay down on his stomach and ran both arms under her thighs, clasping his hands down on her hips. He shouldered her thighs up, and she rested them against his ears with her calves on his back. He licked his way down until her moist flesh parted under his tongue. Her breath caught in her throat, and she groaned an unconvincing “Oh God no… Stop. Please.”
He chuckled. “You love this, don’t you? You slut. I knew it.”
“No. Not at all. Stop.” She flung her head from side to side, then pretended to try and squirm away, but she only succeeded in raising her hips up to his chin. She felt his hands clamp tighter around her hips. “No,” she whimpered.