Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 793: The Whisper That Destroys Sarah

Officer Diaz trailed behind her, his face twisted in a mix of jealousy and fury, his eyes locked onto me like he wanted to rip me apart. I could feel his glare burning into my back, but I didn’t look at him. Not yet.

Sarah grabbed my collar before I could react, her fingers digging in with enough force to make the fabric strain against my throat. "This isn’t over," she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained fury, her breath hot and sharp against my face. "You and I both know what you’ve done."

I didn’t resist. Instead, I leaned in, my body pressing against hers, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. I could feel the heat radiating off her, the way her breath hitched as my mouth moved closer.

"Officer Sarah," I murmured, my voice a dark, velvety growl, "if you know..." I inhaled deeply, her scent—citrus and something wild, like gunpowder and adrenaline—filling my lungs.

"Aren’t you afraid?" My lips grazed her earlobe, and I felt her shiver, her grip tightening. "That I’ll kill your brother... just like I killed all those people?" I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, my smirk wicked, my eyes dark with promise. "And walk free... just like always?"

Her face paled, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. For a second, she looked like she might slap me—or shoot me. But then I chuckled, low and amused, and stepped back, my hands raised in mock surrender. "I was just joking, Officer Sarah," I said, my grin never wavering, "don’t take it so seriously."

But the damage was done. I could see it in her eyes—the flicker of fear, the realization that I wasn’t just bluffing. She stood there, frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her fingers trembling against my collar.

Behind her, Diaz looked like he was about to explode. His face was twisted in a mix of jealousy and rage, his eyes locked onto me with a kind of hatred that made me want to laugh.

He wanted to be the one standing here, the one with his hands on Sarah, the one in control. But he wasn’t. He was just a spectator, a man too afraid to take what he wanted, too weak to play the game.

I gave Sarah one last, lingering look before sliding into the car, shutting the door with a final click.

Lorena didn’t even bat an eye. She just started the engine, the Aston Martin roaring to life with a deep, throaty growl. "What was that about?" she asked, her voice calm, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

I chuckled, buckling my seatbelt. "Oh, nothing," I said, my voice light, "Just threatened to kill her brother."

Lorena didn’t flinch. Didn’t gasp. Didn’t even blink. Instead, she let out a low, amused chuckle, shaking her head. "You’re really lawless, Jack."

I grinned, my voice dripping with false innocence. "It’s nothing serious, Lawyer Lorena..." I drawled, "Just a joke."

She shot me a sideways glance, her dark eyes glinting with something dangerous. "Just call me Lorena," she said, her voice smooth, before shifting gears and pulling away from the curb.

The car glided into the night, the city lights blurring past the windows. I turned to her, my voice casual, but my gaze intent. "Did you have dinner yet?"

Lorena shook her head, her fingers drumming against the wheel. "No, not yet."

I didn’t hesitate. "If you don’t mind," I said, my voice dropping into a darker, more intimate tone, "can I have the honor of inviting this beautiful lady to dinner?"

She chuckled, the sound low and rich, her lips curling into a smirk. "Okay," she said, "but where do you want to go?"

I inclined my head, my voice taking on a mock-serious tone. "I do my best," I replied, "though I must admit, I’m at a disadvantage here. I don’t know Mexico City well enough to suggest a place worthy of you." I gestured vaguely toward the neon-lit streets outside.

Lorena nodded, her expression thoughtful, before her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "I know just the place," she murmured, pressing down on the gas.

The Aston Martin surged forward, the engine growling as we merged into the traffic, the neon lights of the city reflecting off the windshield. I leaned back in my seat, my gaze lingering on Lorena’s profile—the way her blazer hugged her shoulders, the way her skirt clung to her hips, the way her fingers gripped the wheel with confidence.

The Aston Martin glided to a stop in front of a towering, glass-fronted building, its exterior bathed in the soft golden glow of discreet, high-end lighting.

A valet appeared almost instantly, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the car—and then Lorena as she stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

I followed, my gaze immediately dropping to the sway of her hips, the way her skirt clung to the generous curve of her ass, moving with a rhythm that made my fingers itch to reach out and grip her. The fabric of her blazer pulled taut with every step, the seams straining just enough to tease the fullness of her figure, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from biting my lip.

But I behaved.

Because a man like me knew the value of patience.

The maître d’ greeted us with a bow, his voice smooth and deferential as he led us through the restaurant. The place was all polished marble and muted lighting, the kind of atmosphere that whispered money and power in every corner.

We were shown to a private room at the back, secluded behind a heavy velvet curtain that muffled the low hum of conversation from the main dining area. The moment we stepped inside, the door closed behind us with a soft click, sealing us in our own little world.

Lorena moved ahead of me, her hips swaying with every step, and I let my eyes linger for just a second too long before forcing myself to focus. She reached the table—a sleek, dark wood affair set with crystal glasses and polished silverware—and I was right behind her, my hand already reaching for the back of her chair. I pulled it out with a quiet scrape against the floor, my voice low and smooth. "Your throne, abogada."

She glanced over her shoulder at me, her dark eyes glinting with amusement as she settled into the seat. "A gentleman," she murmured, her voice laced with something that wasn’t quite surprise, but close. "I didn’t take you for one."

I chuckled, rounding the table to take my own seat, my fingers brushing the back of her chair for just a second longer than necessary. "Oh, I can be many things," I said, my grin turning wicked as I met her gaze across the table. "When the occasion calls for it."