Ready Or Not (The Hunter’s Club #2)

Chapter 18

18

Dirt Nap - Diggy Graves

I caught the jealousy on Rachel’s face, and it shot a thrill through my entire body. Rachel is pissed! I’ve seen other people get jealous before, but seeing my reserved doe get possessive makes victory run through me.

It’s almost as good as winning a fight with Manson, and I can’t help but grin.

We move into the house enough for me to shut the door behind us. I just want my woman to have a harder time running from me. I stand behind the couch, staring at the man’s TV. His handle is user1995.

I snort. So he keeps the same one across all platforms. Stupid.

“I don’t really play the campaign a lot,” the man mutters, standing awkwardly.

“I’m sure you’re better at it than I am.” I laugh, twirling the end of my braid in my hand. “I really can’t stay long, but I’ve been looking for someone good who can help me.”

The man closes out his round and then moves to the campaign. Manson knows I love this game. It’s why he dresses like one of the characters.

Beside me, Rachel is stiff as a statue. It’s cute. She’s way smarter than this dumbass. She, at least, knows something bad is going to happen. This is fun. I like showing off for Rachel. Having her watch me walk inside here without waving a gun around. I also like watching her squirm. How long will she play along before she forgets about my gun and tries to fuck around?

We talk for a bit as the man runs us through a round. Rachel stays silent. Watching. Observing. Taking everything in. Which I’ve noticed is her default. Rachel won’t act until she’s sized up her enemies and knows their intentions. She’s like Manson that way, and I get a slight twinge of annoyance. I’ll show her how fun it can be to be impulsive. Fuck, I didn’t plan on coming here today, but I’m so glad we did.

As we chat, I size up user1995’s house. It’s everything I thought it would be. Sloppy, with dirty clothes on the couches and the sink piled with dishes. He’s clearly not used to Mommy and Daddy not doing everything for him. Beer cans are all over the counter, so either he threw a party, or he’s a massive drunk. There’s trash on the coffee table, along with snacks and a pocket knife.

“Oh my god, you hunt?” I point to the deer’s head on the wall.

“Huh?” The man glances up. “Oh, yeah.”

I let out a sigh. “I’ve always thought that was so hot—someone being able to live off the land.” I glance at Rachel out of the corner of my eye. She’s throwing me an incredulous look, and I wink at her.

“I’m sure you killed that deer yourself,” I say.

The man glances up again. “What? Uh, yep.” He goes back to his game.

I roll my eyes, then pull the Glock out of my waistband. “You must have used one of these, right?”

Rachel sucks in a breath.

The man glances back, and for a second, his face is blank. Then, he freezes, registering the gun.

I grin at him. “Well, did you?”

“What the fuck?” The man jumps to his feet.

“No.” I wave the gun at him. “Sit back down.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” he shouts but doesn’t sit down.

I fire a shot into the TV. “Sit. Down.”

Rachel screams. The man trembles, shaking and frozen. I lock my gaze with his until he blinks, then sits down with a thud.

I glance at Rachel. Last time I fired a round, she freaked out and seemed to go into her own little world, and she’s doing it again—just standing, frozen.

I don’t want her in her own little world. I want her here. I grab Rachel’s hand with my unoccupied one and yank her toward me. She has a glazed look on her face, so I smash my lips down on her plump ones. She’s so much softer than Manson. So delicate and fucking delicious.

Rachel is still for a second, then struggles to get away, biting at my lips.

I chuckle, licking the sweet taste that’s her. Fuck, the blood is rushing to my pussy. Rachel continues to struggle, then reaches up and pinches my nipple. Hard.

I suck in a breath, letting her lips go but keeping her hand locked in mine. I stare down into her pretty eyes, ready to fuck her right here and right now.

“Get out of my house!” the man cries.

I roll my eyes and turn back to the man. “Answer the fucking question.”

He’s sucking in shallow breaths. “What?”

“Did you use one of these? To kill the deer?” I flick my Glock at him.

“Y-yes?” He gulps.

I smirk. “Really. You used a small-caliber handgun to take down a grown-ass deer?”

The man’s eyes dart between mine.

“As an experienced hunter, you ought to know that a 9mm won’t take a deer down quickly. Right? You’d probably use a 50 cal, right?”

He nods furiously.

I shake my head. “Do you know what I hate, user1995?”

His eyes widen.

“Liars.” I smile at him sweetly, but I don’t let the smile reach my eyes.

“Riley.” Rachel tugs at my hand. She knows where this is going. She’s smarter than he is ‘cause he still looks at me with a blank look. What a waste of space. He does nothing to contribute to my world getting better. Instead, he leaches off the success of others. Just like the other people I fuck with. Usually, I do a deep dive into my posers. Flirt with them online. Get them to flirt with me. Then, I send the evidence to their girlfriends, their moms, and their jobs.

But this one had none of that. No girlfriend, no job, and a mom in dementia care. So, I guess I’ll have to get a little more creative.

I hear Manson’s voice in my ear. Prove yourself.

My lips curl in a smile. “Cover your ears, bambi.”

I let go of her hand, then fire a round into the man’s hip.

For a second after the explosion, there’s silence. The man looks down at his hip in shock.

Rachel has her hands over her ears like a good girl. I kiss the top of her head.

“What the fuck?” That seems to snap her out of her trance. She definitely doesn’t like loud noises.

I’ll get a silencer.

Rachel turns and darts to the front door.

For fuck’s sake. The fun has just begun. I lunge at her, snatching her up before she can get outside.

“Don’t touch me!” Rachel screams.

“Shhhh.” I slam her into the front door, pinning her there.

“No, get off me!” Rachel is fighting for real now. What’s wrong with her? Little miss dead-things-collector shouldn’t have a problem with me adding to the bones count. I won’t even shoot him in the head. His skull will be perfect.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the man on the couch lean down. He’s grabbing his phone.

“Rachel, I’m going to shoot again,” I warn her. Instantly, her body locks up, and I hate that. I want her to watch what I’m about to do.

A thought comes to my mind, and I don’t think; I just do. I dart over the couch, grab the pocket knife from the coffee table, and pounce. The man is still trying to call 911, the adrenaline making his fingers clumsy.

I slit his throat. The blood sprays everywhere, warm and heavy and alive.

Well, not for long.

I smirk into the man’s panicked eyes. His mouth opens and shuts wordlessly. I feel my pussy clench. Fuck, if that isn’t the most erotic sight.

Tearing my eyes from the masterpiece under me, I glance up at Rachel. She’s still huddled against the door. After a moment of silence with only the man’s gurgling, Rachel peeks out at me.

I smile at her and step off of him. “So. About the groceries.”

Rachel looks stunned.

I move to the man’s kitchen and fling open the fridge door. “Come here and tell me what you want.”

I hear no indication that she’s obeying.

I glance back. Rachel is looking at me again with a blank look. It’s curious. It’s like she retreats into some sort of shell involuntarily.

I know exactly how that feels.

I grab a thing of BBQ sauce off the rack and slam it down on the counter, breaking her out of whatever trance she’s in.

“What…the fuck?” Rachel gasps.

“Food. Let’s go. You don’t like venison, and that’s about the only thing I have.”

“You’re fucking insane.” Rachel trembles.

I shrug.

“Did you kill him?” Her voice is getting higher.

I give her a blank look. “The human body can’t live without blood. So yes. I did.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Fire lights behind Rachel’s eyes.

“Hmmm, nothing?” I motion at the fridge, annoyance flitting through me. She’s starting to sound like my mom.

“Nothing?” Rachel’s damn near screaming. She stomps over to me, and her body is shaking. She shoves against me. Hard.

“You killed someone!” she screams. Her face is red, but her eyes—her eyes are sparkling and alive. She looks at me with a mixture of hatred and…fear. Not of the noise. Of me.

My pulse pounds in my clit, and I snatch her up. Rachel fights me, but I don’t care. I hold her soft body against me, kissing the ever-loving shit out of her. Reveling in her fight. Soaking in her fear. It’s like a drug. She makes me heady.

I shove my hand down Rachel’s pants. She screams at me, getting a good scratch down my face. I just push her back into the kitchen island. I flip her over, pinning her solidly with my hand across her back, then put my bloody hand down her pants again.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” she screams.

The sound shivers down my thighs, and I groan. If she keeps making sounds like that, I’ll come in my pants without any touch.

As soon as my fingers hit Rachel’s soft pussy, I melt into her body. She tries to squirm away from me, but I don’t let her. This body is mine. I own it. And I own her. The sooner Rachel figures that out, the better.

“Let me go! I want to go home. Please, let me go.”

I keep a steady pressure on Rachel’s clit, rubbing her from behind until she stiffens. Rachel fights the pleasure every damn time. It’s like she refuses to let me give it to her.

Which is unacceptable.

I rub until I feel her suck in a breath.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck you,” she hisses. “I’m not fucking gay.”

“Oh yeah?” I lean down, biting the back of her arm. The movement causes my clothes to shift across my clit. Rachel cries out, and I feel her pulsing on my hand. “This feels pretty gay to me.”

Fuck. Her pussy clenching in orgasm makes my own pleasure shoot through me, and I tense, coming. The orgasm locks into me, filling me with overwhelming pleasure.

Under me, Rachel is tense, sucking in deep breaths.

As soon as the waves of pleasure recede, I step back, blinking. I’ve never come like that before, with nearly no stimulation. Jesus Christ. My whole body tingles.

Rachel has melted into the kitchen island. She pulls her hands to her face and covers herself. Like all the sensations are too much.

“It’s okay, I got you.” I pat her back.

She shakes.

I grab some food from the fridge, then turn to the living room. The man’s body lays there, lifeless. The blood is everywhere.

The rush that fills my body is unmatched. I feel on top of the world. The best I’ve ever felt. Why in the hell would Manson try to keep this feeling from me?

I set a light kiss on the back of Rachel’s head. “Pick out some food, angel. I won’t tell you again.”

Now to cover my tracks long enough that Manson can’t fuck me over.