Late Night with Andres Read Free

unyielding, but apparently the gunman liked it that way. His hand grasping the weapon seemed to flop a bit. Gage made a big show of running his hands up and down the girl’s hips while he leaned in to whisper again.
    “When I move, you need to duck. Touch my hair if you understand.”
    The girl reached up and pulled a giant chunk of his hair, hard. She moved her lips to his earlobe and murmured, “If you touch anything I normally put in a bathing suit, I’ll kill your nuts.”
    “You’re charming.” Gage slid his hand into her hair and pulled it too. Not quite as hard as she had, but just enough for her to gasp.
    “Quit talking. Get her naked right now. Ooohhhh.” The gunman made a face that could either accompany a bowel movement or an orgasm.
    The girl began shaking her head. Gage pulled her closer and then spun her to face the man. He began an elaborate show of finding her zipper. She stopped fighting him, and he hated that. He wished he could tell her he would never normally get her naked here, even if she threatened his balls. But the gunman might really drop his guard if he saw some boobs.

    Milla was frozen. The gunman was a horrible thing. Not even a person. She couldn’t even joke around in her head anymore. She was about to be degraded for someone else’s enjoyment. Gage Daxson located her side zipper and lifted her arm above her head. He seemed to be dragging out the process of undressing her—this forced striptease. He danced his fingertips from her raised hand down her forearm to her elbow. When he skimmed her arm, she was too scared to even be ticklish. Milla shook as he found the top of her zipper. The dress loosened as the teeth audibly released their tight grasp. She kept breathing in, but forgetting to breathe out. Daxson parted the opening of the cloth. He turned her again so her side was in full view of the pervert. She held the top of her dress up with her other hand.
    “No bra. No bra. Agghhhh…” The Devil’s Fart was close to losing his shit.
    Gage pushed her forward and lunged at the gunman. Just before she hit her head against the room’s standing lamp, Milla’s ears were filled to the brim with the sound of a gunshot. Then darkness wrapped around her as she lost consciousness.

Chapter 4
    Words Like Knives
    M ILLA F OUND H ERSELF in a horrible nightmare. Complete blackness surrounded her, and someone was pleading for medical care.
    “We need to get her to a hospital. You don’t need murder on the list of charges the police already have on you.”
    Hands felt around her neck. VAMPIRE! She was afraid of the giant mosquitoes, so she scrunched up her shoulders to save her neck.
    “She moved. You’re a liar. A fucking woman-stealing liar! I own all the things!”
    With that bizarre statement, Milla remembered everything: where she was, why her hands were clenched so tightly. She peeked at her chest where her fists were balled around fabric. Her dress barely covered her mounds of desire. Crap, don’t say mounds of desire. No one thinks of tits that way. The ridiculously handsome and frightfully frightened Gage Daxson hovered over her. She remembered the gunshot.
    Gage looked disappointed she was alive and hissed, “Couldn’t you’ve played dead a few more seconds?”
    “I was dead for a while!” Milla countered. “Up yours.”
    Famous people were always smiling in pictures, leading you to believe they liked you. Gage Daxson clearly hated her.
    “Stop talking! Next time I’ll shoot one of you.”
    Gage helped Milla up while she held onto her clothes. He pushed her arm aside and zipped up her dress after she’d put it in the right place.
    “Thanks.” Her head was killing her, and her slapped cheek still throbbed. She looked forlornly at the crumbled remains of her muffin on the floor. Life had been so much better when she’d been about to take a bite.
    “I’ll shoot you!” The Devil’s Fart had done a lot of sweating in the time Milla was unconscious.
    “Are you sure