Hans (Alliance, #4)

by S.J. Tilly

Her exposed cleavage rises as she takes a big breath, then she dips down, setting the container on the worn welcome mat in front of my door. It doesn’t actually say welcome. But it does have a sheet of carefully crafted explosives woven into the inner layer of the mat, so there’s that.

My stomach protests at the last bite, but I can’t waste it. It doesn’t matter how bad her creations are, my deep-seated need to consume every bit of Cassandra won’t let me throw them away.

This is a man down SO BAD 😂

Leaning down, I carefully stick the newest Post-it on top of the last one, adding it to my little stack of yellow paper squares. One for every delivery from the girl next door.

I would do the same goddamn thing 😆

On one side of the room, the gray couch faces a subpar TV mounted above a fireplace she never turns on because someone—me—keeps disabling the gas line because someone—her—has left it on unattended one too many times.

My husband could learn a thing or two from this man 😅

Cassandra, my obsession, the worst baker I’ve ever met, is going to come back with who knows what to make me feel better because she thinks I’m sick. I’m not sick. I’m just struggling to speak because I got popped in the larynx last night by a man I was in the process of killing.

“Well, well, well.” He folds his skinny arms across his chest. “You my competition, then?” I dip my chin. “You willing to fight for her?” He narrows his eyes, bunching his bushy brows on his forehead. I make a show of clenching my right hand into a fist. “I’ve never punched a geriatric, but I’m not strictly against it.”

Scrabble. With my sexy neighbor and her parents. What has my life become?

When he bends down to pull on a pair of black boxer briefs, I get a glimpse of his balls hanging down between his legs, and I have to brace my hand on the wall. Lord have mercy, why is that hot?

I’ve tasted Cassandra at the source. I don’t need to settle for her awful baking anymore. But that doesn’t matter. If anyone so much as thought about eating what she made for me, I’d slice their stomach out of their body.

He licks into me. “Fuck.” He pulls me closer. “Goddamn Skittles.” His mouth consumes mine. “Fucking seductress.”

UN. HINGED. This insane man must be protected at all costs 🥹

“You have your own body bags. That’s not normal, Hans.” “I never pretended to be normal.” I slide a look up at him. “You told my parents you were a health inspector.” Hans glances at me. “Health inspectors aren’t normal.” I press my lips together to keep from smiling. “Did you just make a joke?” “I’m deadly serious.”

“You’re not creepy.” I sniff into his side. “Even if you were stalking me.” “It was hardly stalking.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my head. “You just said that backpack is filled with my clothes.” I try to look up at him. Hans presses his hand to the back of my head, keeping it against his body. “It was more like watching over you.”

I’m not afraid of him. This is exactly what I want. But when a man that looks like that, like he might pull your soul out of your body through your vagina, you back away.

“I love being your little girl.”

Ehhhhh I don’t know about this fam

“My Butterfly.” Hans presses a kiss to the back of my head. “My girl.” He circles his arm around my waist. “My light.” His words seep into my heart. “My Grizzly Bear.” I hug his arm. “My man.” I melt into his body. “My stalker.” I smile. Sleep finally starts to take me, the weight of the day pulling me under, when Hans whispers two more words. “My love.”

“Come over.” I squeeze Cassandra’s hand. “My girl is with me.” Nero makes a sound of dismissal. “And my wife is here. You’re not fucking cool.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not bragging. I’m trying to tell you that if you cross me and she gets hurt, I will end you.” “Yeah, yeah. Death and destruction. I got it.” I shake my head. “We gotta stop at my place first. Then we’ll head over.” “Try not to get killed.” Nero ends the call.

Side by side, we probably look mismatched. The girly girl and the intense assassin. But my palm fits in his perfectly.

“What is this?” Cassandra whispers from my side when she sees the narrow path in front of us. “This is called being prepared.” I keep my voice just as quiet. A finger jabs into my side. “Who’s the brat now?” I should be focused. And I am. But I’m also smiling. And that’s weird.

For the first time ever, I kind of hate him. Shifting in my seat, I can accept that sucking his dick, right here and right now, might not be the best idea. But goddamn, tell that to my lady bits.

“I’m just saying, Hans, the fucking ghost-man killer dude, isn’t going to be sitting inside waiting for an ambush.” Second Man shakes his head. I glance up at Hans and silently admit the man is right. Hans is standing.

And then I see them. My pristine squares of paper have been pulled apart, crumpled into two uneven stacks. And… Is that one torn? The red that usually spots the edge of my sight flares bright across my vision. He freezes, just for a second, but I use that second to grab the notes out of his hands. First Man recovers quickly, reaching for the pistol he holstered. Accepting they’re already damaged and needing to keep them close, I shove the Post-its into my mouth and bite down, holding them there as they protrude from my lips like a mouthful of hay.

I N S A N I T Y. I may need to divorce my husband for this man 😭

I twist my fingers tighter together. Maybe baking was a mistake. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Hans’s new friends. The object of my own infatuation is the last to step into the room, and his eyes are already locked on mine. And just like that, the tension building inside me lessens. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of my cookies, Hans will always love me. Something warm wraps around my heart. Hans will always love me. The last of my tension vanishes, replacing itself with something so light I feel like I could start floating.

He slowly lowers his eyes to hers, and only because I’m so fucking curious, and listening so fucking hard, do I hear her whisper. “That’s one.” I roll my lips into my mouth and bite down on them to keep from busting out laughing. She just fucking scolded the ghost man for throwing a fit over some cookies.

“What’s in there?” I ask, getting nervous the longer he waits. He slowly unzips it, then opens the case. I press my lips together at the site of two syringes. One small, one huge. “What are those for?” I’m not sure I really want to know. Hans holds my gaze. “I would like to put a tracker in you.”

Consent for a tracker?? I am SWOONING over here

“I’m going to fill you so full, every single night, that you’ll be leaking my cum for the rest of your life.”

I close my fingers around one and wonder what she’ll look like with these swollen too. I wonder if she’ll let me suck on them, taste their sweetness. My balls squeeze, and I decide that she will. “You’ll let me drink my fill of these, won’t you, Little Girl?” I pinch her nipple and tug on it gently.

Oh NOOOOO 😭 no please take it back say sike!!

A vision of me bringing my children to visit their grandparents’ graves presses me to the doorframe.

Dude what the fuck 😭 this is like the A1 way to fuck your kids up