The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

And there, back near the door and heading toward the steps, was Cullen himself.

I recognized the hair and the tattoos peeking up his neck. He was talking to some girl with enormous fake boobs, and she grabbed his hand as she tugged him away. The pair of them left with Cullen pinching at her ass the whole time.

Upstairs then. I hadn’t thought about upstairs. But how the hell was I going to get up there without being too obvious?

I looked slowly back to Sam, who was smiling up at me.

Ah, shit.

This was a bad idea. I liked this girl—no, I wanted this girl. She was a distraction, and when I was on a kill mission, I had to keep my head about me. I had to be focused in on what I was supposed to do, not chasing some pretty redhead around an orgy.

Except I had to get upstairs without being too obvious, and there was no easy way to do it.

Over on the pillows, the vigorous and somewhat confusing sex continued. The original couple had changed partners, with the two girls both servicing four men at the same time, stroking one cock in each hand and sucking them off, moving between them as fast as they could. Meanwhile, the masked guy was fucking some skinny girl with nearly black hair, and she was the one screaming her head off.

Sam must’ve followed my gaze, because her cheeks turned pink. “She’s a little over the top,” she said. “I mean, it can’t be that good.”

“It could be. You might not be fucking the right guys.”

“How do you know who I’m fucking?”

“You’re not fucking me.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t stop smiling. “Another terrible line. You’re bad at this.”

“I’m blaming the orgy. It’s throwing me off.”

She shifted closer and put a hand on my arm. “If there wasn’t a bunch of strangers having sex over there right now, what would you say to me?”

She had an excited look on her face, lips parted slightly, tongue pressed against her teeth, eyes wide. She wanted this—and hell, maybe all those naked people were turning her on more than she realized.

And she was turning me on more than I should’ve allowed.

I leaned down, brushing my lips against her cheek, and turned to face her, my hand straying down to her hip. “I’d say of all the women in this place, you’re the only one I want to undress,” I whispered in her ear. “And I’d tell you to imagine how you’d feel if you came upstairs with me right now.”

Her breath was fast and hot against my neck. “What would we do upstairs?”

“I’d start by peeling off your dress,” I said. “No masks, not for you. I want to look in your eyes while I tease your wet pussy with the tips of my fingers before I go down and taste you. Then once your legs are shaking and you’re begging for more, only then will I let you ride me, nice and slow at first, before I fuck you deep and rough and let you come on my thick cock.”

“Oh,” she said, and her fingers dug into my arm. “Is that what you’d do?”

“Come upstairs with me,” I said, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “And I’ll show you.”

I saw the moment of hesitation. She wasn’t sure, was probably scared. I guessed she’d never done something like this before. The orgy was affecting her more than she realized, and even if it was an unattractive jumble of bodies and fucking and flesh, it was still sex, and she couldn’t help but feel aroused.

And having me so close, whispering all that in her ear, that only set her off even more.

I realized with a sharp breath that I was feeling it too. Sam was gorgeous, by far the most attractive girl in the place, and I noticed more than one man staring at her as we started our conversation. I would’ve bet anything that she’d be pretty damn popular in the middle of that pile of naked, writhing people.

“Okay,” she said finally, her face setting into a mask of determination. “Let’s go upstairs.”

I felt an odd thrill. I should’ve been steadying myself for the kill, but instead I was thinking about stripping her bare.

“Come on.” I grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd.

I caught more looks but ignored them. Jealous assholes, most likely. I took Sam to the steps and we climbed up together, leaving the writhing and moaning and screaming people behind.

Upstairs was as opulent as downstairs, if not more so. The floor was covered in thick rugs and wild houseplants sprouted up from every corner. There were several rooms, two with closed doors, but one was still open. I steered Sam toward it and stepped inside.

The room was small, but richly furnished, with a big four-poster bed hung with gauzy curtains, two end tables, and a massive antique armoire. Sam drifted toward the bed as I glanced over to the closed doors, wondering which one Cullen was hiding in.