Dead Drop (The Guild #2)(15)
A quick call to the hotel restaurant, and I placed my order for pizza and red wine. Delicious and perfectly paired with hotel bathrobes and pay-per-view movies.
The gentleman on the phone advised my food would be delivered in twenty minutes, so I picked up my phone to reply to Leon. Yeah, I was addicted. Just opening his message thread gave me fluttery tingles of desire and danger.
I scrolled back up the messages for what seemed like the thousandth time, and decided to poke the hornet’s nest a little harder. Rather than send a flirty message back, I shrugged out of my hotel robe and snapped a sexy nude picture in the mirror.
His response was quick and exactly what I expected.
6279: Tease.
6279: More.
I grinned and took another more explicit image for him.
3982: Your turn, Marx.
The responding message gave me cunt flutters.
“Oh shit,” I whispered, sitting up straighter and wetting my lips. The image was unclear where he was, the background dark, but it was a clear shot down his body, taking in his incredible abs. His tattoo-covered arm in the side of the frame made it clear that it was Leon, but even without those distinguishing features, I’d recognize his hand. And the thick, pierced dick he gripped.
Unsolicited dick pics in general were never sexy, but this? This was no mere dick pic. This was a work of art.
With a groan, I sank back into my pillows. I shouldn’t have started this game with Leon tonight… there was no way my vibrator could compare, and I was just going to end up disappointed without the real thing. Maybe if I called him… maybe if I could hear his voice as I fucked myself with the Purple Pussy Eater…
Yeah, that could work. I tapped Leon’s number to call him and hunted my lavender-colored helper out of my bag while it rang.
He picked up quickly, his voice husky as he said my name, and I needed to mentally scold my libido for flipping right the fuck out.
“I think the real question, Marx,” I told him, aware of how breathy my own voice was and not giving two shits, “is where are you? And why aren’t you here?”
He gave a low chuckle, and I collapsed back onto the bed. “I thought you were scared of me, DeLuna. Weren’t you running for your life last time we were together?” He gave a small groan, and I could picture him pumping his own cock. Damn it, I wanted to explore those piercings with my tongue.
“So?” I replied, flicking the Purple Pussy Eater on and shivering with anticipation. “What’s your point?”
A knock on the hotel room door made me startle, and I breathed a curse. “Hold that thought, bunny,” I muttered to Leon, “my room service is here.”
Somewhat annoyed, I turned my battery-operated friend off and slipped back into the hotel robe. I tossed my phone onto the bed and grabbed a tip from the dresser where I’d left the weapons I’d been wearing earlier.
“Just a second!” I called out when the knock came again. I grabbed a gun and chambered a bullet. Just in case.
A quick look through the peep-hole didn’t raise any alarm bells for me, though. A middle-aged white man in a hotel uniform stood there looking bored as hell with a room service trolley in front of him.
Keeping my gun at my side, slightly obscured by my robe, I opened the door and offered a polite smile. “Sorry for the wait, I was changing.”
The guy just gave me a tight nod and pushed the room service cart into my room when I stepped aside. The strong smell of fresh pizza made my stomach grumble, and I was beyond excited to eat my pizza while Leon dirty talked in my ear. Only one thing could have made it a better scenario, and I wasn’t fucking thinking about him anymore.
“Thanks so much,” I told the guy, handing him a tip and holding the door open for him to leave.
The man murmured a polite “enjoy your meal” kind of response and exited. I closed the door, then flipped the lock and slid the safety chain on. Leon was right when he said we were never totally safe, but we did what we needed to in order to catch a few hours of sleep.
Once the safety was back on my gun, I placed it back on the dresser with my other weapons and plucked the warming lid off my pizza. Instant mouth water.
“Fuck yes,” I moaned, grabbing a slice. It was still hot—a hit or miss aspect to room service—and I ate a whole slice before retrieving my phone from the bedclothes. “You still there, Marx?”
His rough laugh responded, flooding my pussy once more. “I wasn’t going anywhere. Did you just moan while eating something?”
“Pizza, Marx. Cheesy, saucy pizza.” I took a huge bite of a second slice. I was hungry.
“Shit, DeLuna. I’m on my way.” It was a darkly dangerous promise… or threat… and it got my blood pumping like crazy. Finally, I wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window of my room and peered out into the glittering city lights, imagining I could see him out there somewhere.
“Good,” I told him, “then I’ll save my batteries.”
His answering groan made me laugh, but a flicker of movement in the window reflection made me gasp and duck on instinct.
Not fast enough.
7
Pain lanced through me as the sharp garrote bit into my neck and hand—I’d narrowly managed to get my fingers up in time to give me a shred of fighting hope. I bucked against my assailant, using the window to kick my full weight backward, and he staggered a couple of steps. It gave me just enough advantage to wrench one end of the garrote wire out of his grip to slide free, and I dropped to the carpet.