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Chapter Eleven

Andrew

I sat back down with the guys. Anger swarmed in my very core that they’d seen Chelsea without clothes. It made me sick to my stomach and curled my fists with the need to thump something. But it couldn’t be them I thumped, it wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t Chelsea’s either, since I’d shredded her clothes from her, not that I’d thump her, ever, I wasn’t that sort of creep

“Is Cheesy Crust still a good pizza place?” I asked Bridget.

“Yeah, not bad.” She winked at me. “You gonna treat your red-haired beauty to something more than toast for her dinner?”

“Something like that,” I muttered.

“He’s replied,” Jamie said, opening an email from Hank Taylor.

My attention switched. “What’s it say?”

“He’s making demands of his own. Want’s proof of life.”

“We can do that. I’ll send a picture of Chelsea holding up her iPhone with the date and time on it.”

“Good idea,” Cillian said.

“So he isn’t saying he won’t hand over the money?” I asked.

“No, not at all. Seems he’s happy to pay, we should have asked for more.” Jamie huffed. “And he wants to do the handover somewhere public.”

“Mitch said to use the Memorial Field, it’s about a mile from here, nice and public,” Cillian said. “Never really any cops around unless there’s a report of trouble.”

“That’ll work.” I knew the spot. “Reply and say we’ll do it at first light. Give him the deets of our overseas account, the encrypted one that can’t be traced. He can do the transfer there and then before we give her back, but he can see she’s alive.”

Jamie started typing.

I let out a sigh. Was Hank Taylor really going to cough up four million so easily? There had to be a catch. Things never went smoothly.

Reaching for coffee, I knew I had to think straight. Chelsea had the ability to addle my brain, she’d thrown me off my train of thought more than once in lectures, had me daydreaming instead of marking papers, and taking risks like visiting the Sure Thing just to try and get some relief from the need she created in me.

And I couldn’t let that distraction fuck this up. Not only did we need the money, we couldn’t afford any more members of Galahad getting arrested. I had to keep Chelsea at a distance until this was sorted.

Like that was going to happen!

“Done.” Jamie sat back and folded his arms. “Just need that photo.”

“Ah, yeah, I’ll do that.” I stood, and my phone rang. “It’s Mitch.” I answered and put it on speaker. “Hey, what’s up?”

“The guys are still in custody, they’ve been charged, they need a decent lawyer sooner rather than later.”

“I’ll be on the case first thing, and we’ll have the funds to pay them.”

“Excellent.” Mitch paused. “And remember that asshole who tried to strangle Bridget last week?”

“Yeah.” I looked at Bridget. “The bruises on her neck have only just gone.”

She hitched a breath in and downturned her lipstick-coated mouth. “He’s a fucking bastard.”

“He’s also a murderer.”

“What?” Jamie said with a frown. “What’s happened, Mitch? What have you heard?”

“A woman’s been killed, strangled over in New Marston. The press haven’t got it yet, but she was a prostitute.”

“You reckon it’s him? How so?”

“I know it’s him. We had a good shot of him on Ring coming into Rose Cottage, and MIT have just circulated a CCTV image of him a hundred yards from where her body was found.”

“Fuck.” I tensed. Rage going through me. “The twins should have finished him off when they had the chance.”

Cillian snorted.

“He was just a violent asshole then,” Mitch said. “Now we know he’s a killer. We gotta get him.”

Jamie shook his head. “Can you send us any shots you have of him, from MIT? I’ll get it circulated along with the one we’ve got.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing Oxford is his stomping ground, he hadn’t traveled far after we messed him up.” Cillian folded his arms, his knuckles pressing on his hard biceps. “Finn won’t want to miss this.”

“I’ll send it now, Jamie, to your phone,” Mitch said.

There was a pause, and then Jamie’s phone flashed. “Got it, thanks, Mitch.”

“Okay, be safe, I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

“Wait, Mitch, can you keep your guys away from Memorial Park at first light.”

“Make it six a.m. and that’s easy, shift change.”

“Cheers.” I hung up.

“Hey, Bridget.” I nodded at Jamie’s phone. “Would you mind taking a look at this fella?”

“If it will help you guys, of course.” She stepped up to the table, hips wiggling, and peered at the image Mitch had sent through. She pulled a face. “Yeah, that’s him, would know him anywhere.” She shuddered. “He’s got devil eyes, I swear, they’ve got death in them, like he hungers for it or something.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll be meeting the Devil soon.” I smiled. “Thanks, Bridget. Be safe, okay.”

“I am here.” She nodded at the alarm panel that was connected to each of their rooms. “Thanks to you guys.”

“We do our best.” Cillian stood, frowning at the picture. “He’s still got the remnants of the black eye I gave him.”

“Good.” Bridget shrugged. “I hope it hurts.”

Cillian set his hand on the small of her back. “Come on, I’m going to have a check around, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Sure thing, honey.” She winked at him.

Bridget winked at everyone and called everyone honey. That was just her way. I liked her, a lot, and hoped that the accounting course she was plodding away at would soon see her on a new life and getting her son back from foster care.

“I’ll circulate the asshole’s image to Red Leather and Bred2Buck.” Jamie was tapping away on his computer.

“Good idea.” The two local sex clubs were regular contacts of ours. Opportunistic murderers and rapists often thought they’d get lucky there. “And drop a note to The Convicts, it wouldn’t hurt for them to know what’s going on.”

“You sure? We’re not on best of terms with those guys.”

“But they’ll want this guy behind bars or dead as much as we do. Your enemy is my enemy, which makes us friends and all that.”

“True.”

I stared out of the dark window and saw my reflection. My hair was messy and in need of a cut, my torso bare, and my shoulders were drawn up to my ears with tension. I sighed, reached for my phone again, and ordered two chargrilled vegetable pizzas and a pile of garlic bread.

* * * *

Chelsea

The day dawned bright, glowing through thinly curtained window.

I sat, and my arm bumped warm flesh.

Andrew was asleep at my side. He grumbled and moved closer, nestling his face on my shoulder.

I could barely remember falling asleep. We’d eaten pizza, me naked, and then I’d collapsed with exhaustion. My ass cheeks had been sore, and a need to block everything out had come over me.

Apparently, I’d done just that, and now it was early morning. I took the opportunity to stare at my professor while he was in a totally unguarded state. His dark eyelashes were long, his lips were slightly parted, and his stubble was growing heavier. His skin was sun-kissed, more so on his forearms and neck, and his nipples were small and dark. In the center of his sternum his body hair was thick, though it thinned as it spread over his chest and tattoo.

His abdomen was softer now, in sleep, and a dark trail of hair fanned from his navel to the waistband of his pants. Still in situ was the knife. The gun I hadn’t seen for a while.

“Hey, babe, like what you see?”

I started slightly. I’d thought he was still asleep. “Babe?”

He touched a lock of my hair that was hanging over my breast. “I can’t give you an endearment?”

“As my professor or captive?”

“As your lover.” The back of his thumb grazed my rapidly hardening nipple. “One day.”

“One day?”

“Yeah, when this is over, I’ll finally fuck you. Make you officially mine.”

“And it’s a fucking that does that? Makes me officially yours?”

“Yeah.” He sent his attention to my opposite nipple. “I might be a bit older than you, but I don’t see that being an issue. You’re twenty-seven, right?”

“Yes, and you’re forty.” I’d Googled him enough times to know.

“No big deal.” He swallowed and cupped the underside of my breast. “Not when we’re going to fit so perfectly together.”

“We do.”

“We do what?”

I leaned closer, my hair draping over his chest and my lips hovering over his. “We do fit perfectly together.”

“I know my fingers fit in your pussy perfectly and I can make you come pretty damn…” he twitched his eyebrows, “spectacularly.”

“Oh, you’ve made me come better than that little flick of my clit.”

He smiled. “You’re telling me that when you’ve touched yourself in lectures that was better than me fingering you?”

Emboldened, I swiped my lips over his in a proper kiss. “No, I’m saying when you fucked me it was better than that.”

“I haven’t fucked you.” He ran his hands into my hair, capturing it in a tight ponytail and holding me still.

“Haven’t you?” I raised my eyebrows.

“What the hell are you talking about, Chelsea?”

“The Sure Thing.”

A frown plowed over his forehead. “No.”

“Yes.” I kissed him again. Stroked my tongue onto his and practically tasted his confusion…his realization. “I was your Sure Thing, sir.”

“I didn’t even go to that stupid student orgy. I’m a university professor, for fuck’s sake.” He tugged on my hair, forcing my head back a few inches. “You’re talking crap.”

I smiled and chewed on my bottom lip, enjoying the flash of emotion in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“So you didn’t go into the first room you came to in the language department, you didn’t go to the back booth, farthest from the door, closest to the window.”

His mouth opened; no words came out.

“You didn’t clasp my round pale ass, ram your cock in fast and hard, and drive us both to a simultaneous climax within a few minutes.” I was enjoying myself. “You didn’t press your chest to my back when you came, slapping your hands down on the desk and…” I reached for his hand and smoothed my finger over his small red scar. “And reveal this in the light of the moon.”

“Fuck.” He shook his head. “It was you?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder it was so fucking good but…” His eyebrows drew together. “What the fucking hell do you think you were doing there? Bending over for a goddamn stranger to fuck you? You’re not some whore, Chelsea, you’re not some tart who just wants her pussy filled. Jesus Christ, I’m so mad that you did that.”

“Pot calling kettle black.” I set my hand over his tattoo. His heart was thudding beneath it. “You know full well you shouldn’t have been there, you’re staff. It would have been career-ending.”

“Lots of things I do could be career-ending. And I’m a guy, we fuck, it’s what we do—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” I caught his nipple and squeezed, hard.

He grimaced.

“Women like to fuck, too, to be fucked, that’s why the Sure Thing works. By simple chance there’s the same number of men and women there. Everyone wants to be fucked.”

“But I only want to fuck you.”

“Not that night, you didn’t. You’d have been happy with any old pussy to dip your dick into.”

“But I did, fuck you, that is.”

“Yes.” I untangled myself from him and stood, placed my hands on my waist, and jutted my hips to the right. “So you can stop denying yourself now and do it again. It won’t be our first time.”

His cheeks had flushed, and a keening groan erupted from his chest. He sprang to his feet and dashed his hand to his belt, undid it, and shoved at his zipper. “I’m not supposed to be getting distracted by you.”

“So leave.”

“I can’t. No fucking way.” His cock sprang free, and he stepped from his pants. There was a decidedly predatory glint in his eyes.

But I barely had time to admire him because he gathered me into his arms and picked me up, plonked me on the cool table. “I don’t fuck gently,” he said. “You’re gonna have to tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be.” I ran my hands into his hair as wet pooled in my pussy. “I promise.”

His mouth slammed onto mine, and our chests crushed together. His cock was at my entrance already, and I braced for his invasion.

He jerked his hips, propelling himself into my body. I cried out and clung to him. The denseness of his cock filled me, stretching my pussy with an exquisite nip of pain.

“I shouldn’t need you this bad,” he said hoarsely.

“And I should loathe you for kidnapping me.”

He half withdrew then slammed into me again, dragging me onto his cock at the same time. His body rubbed over my clit, and I clung to his thick shoulders.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He stared at me and plunged deeper, the base of his cock stretching me farther. “I remember now, fuck yeah, so good.”

The rest of the world shrank away. The ecstasy claiming me was instant and explosive. “Andrew…” I cried out. “Fuck yes, like that. I’m going to come…”

He groaned, curled his hips under again, and drove me crazy with his obvious urgency and mad pounding.

Never had I been on the edge of coming in just a dozen or so thrusts. We were meant to be. We were incredible together.

I didn’t hold it back, and when my orgasm crashed through me, I threw back my head and screamed out in relief. Around his solid shaft I spasmed; he answered me with a feral cry of his own, and his cock thickened then throbbed. Heat flooded me, gushed from me. I shook and held onto him, gasping for air.

He cupped my face, still buried deep. “That’s one fucking way to start the day.”

I stared into his eyes. They were alive with desire, with passion, and something else I couldn’t put a name to.

“Are we done once my father has paid up?” I asked through panting breaths.

He released me and stepped back, leaving me empty and with my legs spread. “I’ve wanted you for years, you think one quick fuck on the table is gonna sate me?” He bent and retrieved his clothes. “I haven’t even fucking started, babe.”

He left the room, and I lay back on the table and stared at the ceiling that could do with a lick of paint. I then slipped my hands to my pussy and spread his cum around, entered myself, fingered my still-tender clit. If that was him barely even started, what else did he have in mind for me?

I could hardly wait to find out.

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