~Editor's Pick~
It was supposed to be an easy job. Aoife planned to spend her days lounging by the pool reading her favorite smut, living the glamorous life of a house-sitter. Except nothing ever goes the way it should.
With a murder across the street, a storm knocking out all power and two masked men breaking in, everything is thrown into chaos leaving Aoife feeling something far more dangerous than fear.
Meanwhile, Elliot and Oscar only wanted revenge. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in the house, yet there she was, stirring things, distracting them and so very willing.
As the trio is consumed with satiating their own greedy needs, they come to find out something far more dangerous is circling and closing in fast.
Be Warned: anal sex, menage sex (MMF), m/m sex, dubious conscent
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A sudden clap of thunder shattered the silence and gifted me strength. I spun and ran, digging the ball of my foot into the floor and launching myself like an Olympic fucking athlete.
The angry clomp, clomp, clomp of boots against hardwood followed close behind, punctuated by heavy breathing.
I ran for all I had, no plan, no idea what was going to happen, but aware I needed to get away and praying to any god listening that my knee didn’t give out.
Sailing through the foyer, I diverted to the kitchen and clamored for the biggest knife I could find. A hefty cleaver was stuck to the wall by a magnetic strip and I grabbed it without hesitation, swinging at the shadow.
Everything stilled. Somehow, the kitchen island rested between us, him leaning over it while I kept as far back as possible.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I said, not surprised my voice came out shaky rather than intimidating.
He chuckled. The sound was too deep and resonant to come from anything other than a demon. Surely it wasn’t a man under there, not with that hulking frame. Backlit by the fire, I had no help seeing details beyond him wearing a ski mask and black coveralls. I’d lost my flashlight in the race.
Lungs burning, I held the cleaver out, ready to chop at anything that got too close. Poor, very dead Mrs. Fitzgerald suddenly flashed in my mind and my heart sank.
“Oh, fuck. You’re him, aren’t you?”
He didn’t respond, instead taking a step to his right, which I met, determined to keep as much room between us as I could.
“Look,” I said, voice still trembling. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this isn’t even my house, okay? I don’t live here.”
He hesitated, but I didn’t. I kept creeping, inching closer to having the open room at my back.
“Bullshit,” he said with a muffled voice that tickled something in my memories.
I shook my head. “Nope. I’m just house-sitting. The owners are off on some trip for the next week. So, if you want to know where stuff is, or like, if there’s a safe, that’s not me.”
He stood upright, so much taller than I’d previously thought, easily a head above me, which made him all the more terrifying.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could just see the foyer. The lock was a little tricky and the storm wouldn’t make getting away easy, but I could hide in it, then go somewhere to call the police.
Geoff!
His card was still stuck to the fridge with a magnet. I could go to his place and call the cops.
“What the fuck!” His harsh bark made me jump. He shifted to the side. “She’s the fucking house-sitter.”
The fu—
I turned just in time to see Elliot stalking toward me, hair pulled back, fire’s glow dancing across his face. His broad shoulders were leaned forward like a fucking predator about to pounce.
“That’s not what she told me,” he said. “Hiya, Mrs. Brantley.”
Barely able to register it, I could only try to run and was promptly snatched by the wrist.
“Help!” I screamed my throat hoarse on one simple word.
Elliot clamped me to his chest with thick, strong arms, locking me in place while I kicked and flailed. The cleaver had long-since fallen from my grip.
“Ain’t nobody gonna hear you screaming,” he said in my ear, squeezing tight. “It’s just you and us now.”
