by Coralee June
I didn’t realize you cared.
Hunter looked like he was about to back away from me, but I pulled him close. “Am I crazy for caring?” I whispered. “Are you just going to throw it back in my face? Am I wrong for…wanting you?” My dark mind answered for me: Yes. Yes, it was wrong. “I should hate you, right? I should want nothing to do with you. Part of me knows this. The rational part of me doesn’t think any reason is good enough for killing her.”
“But?” he asked.
“But the other part of me knows she wasn’t healthy. The other part of me is slowly remembering the signs. The whispers she’d mutter under her breath. The promises she’d make. I rarely left the house. I…I’m not ready to think poorly of my mother, Hunter.”
Hunter leaned down and kissed the top of my forehead. “If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t take this for granted. I wouldn’t have run. I wouldn’t have ruined us before we even started.”
“Why does it sound like you’re telling me goodbye?”
“Because I am. Because I usually have more time to prepare shit like this. Because this is a high-profile kill.”
“No,” I began. “You’re the fucking best of the best. You’re Hunter Hammond. I’ve seen you in action. You and I both know that you’ve got this under control. If you’re just trying to make me scared so we can have goodbye sex, I’m not giving it to you.”
At that, Hunter chuckled. “You caught me,” he replied. Some of the tension in the room disappeared, but I still held onto him. My fingers dipped. Our breaths quickened. His hands wrapped around my waist and squeezed.
“Don’t tell me goodbye. I…I’m not ready for this to end. I want to work through this. We just need more time. There’s so much I wanted to do. So much we need to say…”
“I do owe you two orgasms,” he said, trying to once again lighten the situation. “And you know how important debts are to me.”
“We are not having goodbye sex, Hunter Hammond,” I explained breathlessly while pressing against his chest. My fingers curled, as if aching to dig into his muscles.
“We don’t have to have sex. I just want to get you off,” he growled before picking me up. “You can’t say things like that to me and not expect me to want to kiss the fuck out of you.” I wrapped my legs around his waist and whimpered. His lips found my collarbone, and he kissed my soft skin while walking over to the bed before laying me down. What the fuck were we doing?
“You don’t get off until you come back,” I insisted. I wanted him to have a reason to return.
“Of course, Pretty Debt.” He sucked on my collarbone after saying that, then started migrating down my body. He lifted my sweater up a few inches to kiss my stomach. The sight of him slipping down, down, down had me shaking.
“Call me that again,” I whispered while sitting up. I grabbed the oversized burnt-orange knit sweater that covered my torso and took it off, my head getting clumsily caught in it. I was ruining the moment, and intrusive thoughts started creeping in as I struggled.
“Pretty Debt,” Hunter began while helping me out of the tangled mess, “you’re adorable.”
I rolled my eyes and reached behind my back to unclasp my bra. The moment my breasts were free, Hunter’s crisp blue eyes widened, and he licked his lips. “Call me that again,” I whispered, suddenly nervous to show him the script I had permanently needled into my skin. Our previous fucks had been too quick, too rushed for him to see. I softly touched myself, tracing lines along my cleavage, drifting lower so he could see.
“What is that?” he asked as I lifted up my left breast to show him the artful curve there.
“Pretty Debt,” I whispered. I’d had the name put there. Words were powerful. The name he picked for me felt permanent, and I wanted the reminder of Hunter on my skin long after he was gone.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Hunter whispered in astonishment before leaning forward to run his tongue over the cursive. “You barely knew me.”
“I knew enough.”
“Should I be getting a restraining order?” he teased before licking my nipple.
“It wouldn’t keep me away.”
Hunter sucked my skin while kneading my flesh. I threw my head back against the overstuffed pillows cushioning my body. Every cell in my body was on fire for his touch. He grabbed the band of my yoga pants and pushed the tight spandex material down, and he stopped fixating on my breasts and the tattoo that decorated the underside of them to look me in the eye.
“This isn’t goodbye, Pretty Debt,” he whispered. Fuck, I loved the nickname. I had missed it so much. “But promise me you’ll leave if I don’t come back.”
“Never,” I instantly replied. Hunter dipped his finger between my thighs and plunged it inside of me. He rubbed his palm along my clit. His lips devoured me as I moaned into his mouth. The pulse in my clit was throbbing. His other hand went back to my breast and squeezed it. My hair fell around us as he fucked my mouth with his tongue, and my cunt with his finger. I rolled my hips around his hand, whimpering demands as I went.
Faster and harder. I could feel my skin growing wet with sweat and the liquid heat pooling between my thighs. “Promise, Pretty Debt,” Hunter groaned against my bottom lip before biting down on the bruised, plush skin. He tugged and tugged, like he could pull devotion out of me by his teeth.
“No.” I could feel the crest of my orgasm coming on. “I’m so close,” I whispered.
“Too fucking bad,” Hunter said with way too much glee. Hunter stopped moving. I knew he would. I knew he’d hold my pleasure hostage until I agreed to keep myself safe.
“I promise,” I lied. Hunter pulled his wet finger out of my cunt and licked it. Long, slow, and languid. He savored the taste of me with his eyes closed.
“Do you?” he asked.
“I do. Now pay your debt, Hunter Hammond.” It was meant to be a teasing comment, in reference to the two orgasms he owed me, but there was more there. More to our story. More guilt and forgiveness and redemption shared between us than we could ever articulate.
His eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t place. He stared at me for two breaths with his lips parted. “With pleasure,” he replied before sinking down my body and plastering his lips to my pussy. He kept pushing and pushing. My legs fell apart. I loved his mouth. Hot and hard. He teased me with his tongue, flicking and brushing in ways that drove me absolutely insane.
My eyes wanted to flutter closed, but I stared at the beautiful, hardened man surrendering to my cunt. “You taste so fucking good,” he rasped. “I just want to drown in your cum.”
I shivered at his hot words. “Yes!” I screamed as he flicked against my hardened clit. I was squirming and arching my back, trying to get closer to his mouth, though it felt like too much. His tongue was commanding and sure. The rhythmic move of his mouth was driving me right back to that crest. “So close.” Hunter sank against me, pinning my trembling legs down with his arms while eating me out. I came hard. It had been building up for so long that my body practically exploded from the sensation. I felt my muscles dip and relax. My eyes closed. I ground against his lips as my back arched and moans of pleasure escaped my mouth. “Fuck!”
“One more,” Hunter said with pride before standing up. I felt limp lying on the bed but already greedy for more. I might have come, but I wasn’t done. Not yet.
Hunter stripped off his pants and boxers as quickly as possible before hovering over me. “Pretty Debt, this isn’t goodbye sex, okay?” I nodded as he positioned himself over me.
I flipped over on my stomach and rested my chin on my shoulder. “Make me come, Stalker,” I moaned.
Not needing any more invitation, Hunter grabbed my hips and pulled my ass toward him. Hardness greeted my tight hole, and I whimpered at the idea of him thrusting inside of me there. “Not today,” Hunter said, as if reading my mind. “I want to take my time when I fuck your sweet ass, Pretty Debt.”
He rubbed his dick along my slick folds, coating his cock with my
cum and teasing my sensitive nub all the same. His hands threaded through my long hair, and I felt him tug. It was then that I realized we were in this position exactly five years ago—right before he drugged me and left me. Emotions clogged my throat, but I didn’t want them to ruin this moment. “Fuck me already,” I said, letting my dirty desires take over because I couldn’t handle my emotions. This felt a lot like the last time he said goodbye to me.
Hunter stopped. “This feels like goodbye sex,” he whispered.
“It’s a little familiar,” I agreed.
Hunter gently eased me back onto my back. He looked me right in the eye. “Pretty Debt,” he whispered before thrusting inside of me. He held onto my thigh as he plunged deeper and deeper. I cried out at the invasion of his hard cock. I locked my eyes on his, not breaking with each punishing thrust or even when he pressed his forehead to mine.
Our breathing aligned. Our moans filled the motel room. In and out. In and out. Sweat covered both of our bodies, and hours seemed to pass in that moment. Both of us were lost in each other. Fucking and coming, over and over and over again, in the safety of our non-goodbye.
And when we were done, Hunter held me.
“Remember what you promised me,” he said. He was determined to make me understand. Fleetingly, I wondered if he was planning on not coming back. Maybe he was worried I’d lock myself in this motel room waiting, drifting away to nothing but bones and grief.
“You’re going to try your hardest to come back, right?” I asked.
“I promise.”
HUNTER
The mansion at Muttontown had stark white wooden walls covering the expansive exterior. It was an intimidating sort of influence. Pride bled from the large double doors of the entrance. Privilege and secrets could be seen from every carefully planted shrub. The luscious green lawn surrounded a long, winding driveway made of brick, and the perimeter of the mansion had a tall gate of black steel.
I felt like I was walking blind. Because I spent all day researching where Bloomington lived, I didn’t have time to stake out the Muttontown mansion where his mistress stayed. A few Escalades with tinted windows were parked out front, and as I waited for the right moment to sneak inside, I noticed various men with tattoos crawling up their necks coming and going. They definitely didn’t look like appointed security for the mayor.
At around ten p.m., Bloomington’s mistress exited from the front door and was escorted to one of the Escalades by a large man. He didn’t even glance up from his phone as he walked her to the car, which told me this was a really inexperienced security team. They might have looked big and intimidating to the untrained eye, but they were lazy and cocky. Anyone worth their salt would have found me already with a simple sweep of the perimeter. This was both good and bad. Good because I could slip in easily, bad because untrained idiots with guns somehow always managed to do the most damage.
I stared at his mistress. Unlike the red ensemble she wore before, she was now wearing an elegant black gown that was both sexy and classy. I guessed Bloomington had a dress code for his birthday party. I also guessed he wanted her showing up later to avoid confrontation with the missus.
I wore all black and was strapped with weapons from head to foot. I had a pistol on my hip, an assault rifle on my back, and a Glock on my ankle. There was also a metaphorical knife in my chest from thoughts of Roe. Today had been tragically perfect. Her body was this soft, beautiful thing that shivered and quaked when I touched it. Her cum on my tongue was the sweetest taste. I was a fucking goner.
But I had to focus.
I knew that the security system at the mansion would trip the moment I hopped the fence. Luckily, it wasn’t located in a gated community with its own security, but the police station was only ten minutes away. I estimated that I only had seven minutes to get inside, find Mack, and get out. I had been in worse situations, but there was no guarantee that the blueprints I had were up-to-date or even accurate. And on the off chance a police officer was on patrol close by, I could have much less time.
In a pinch, I could disappear out the back and slip into the neighbor’s yard. I had parked my truck inconspicuously up the road and changed my plates before coming here. Usually, I would have months to coordinate and plan out something like this. I had to think of every last detail on the fly.
Once I was confident I could break in, I took a steadying breath and pulled my ski mask down over my face before hopping the fence. Every exterior corner of this house had a security camera mounted to it. I didn’t want anyone getting a glimpse of my face. An alarm didn’t sound the moment my feet touched the ground, but I knew I had tripped a silent trigger.
I sprinted in the shadows up the drive, toward the house, and didn’t bother approaching the front door. There was no way in hell I could kick down a deadbolt in the amount of time I had. I also didn’t want to waste my energy on that shit. There was no telling how many people were inside, and I needed to diligently focus on conserving my time and strength.
Using the knife I had strapped to my thigh, I punched a first floor window, shattering the glass and creating a space for me to climb through. Once the excess shards were pushed out of the way and there was clearance for me to slip in, I hoisted myself up and entered the home. If the alarm hadn’t gone off when I hopped the fence, it was definitely going off now. I had six minutes at best.
I quickly realized I was in the sitting room. I didn’t take much time to look at the decor, but noted the oversized furniture and a ridiculous portrait of Lorelei petting a pretentious looking white cat. The pussy had a hot pink collar encrusted with diamonds. Once I had my bearings, I made my way down the hall to where I knew the basement was. I kept my ears open, listening for signs of anyone. There was still one Escalade parked out front, which meant there were still people on the premises.
An empty house would be ideal, but keeping those guards stationed here meant that Bloomington had something he needed watching. I could only hope it was Mack.
I inched down the hallway toward where I knew the basement was, but paused when I heard a loud TV in one of the rooms up ahead. My brain scanned my memory of the blueprints I saw, trying to locate the source of the sound in my mind. There was a game room toward the back of the house that neighbored the dining room. Laughter boomed in that direction, making me grow rigid. Who was here? How did they not know I was here?
I took a moment to direct the adrenaline coursing through my body. It was always the calm before the kill. I took a deep breath and willed stillness through my body. The greatest strength was being able to control your fight or flight response. Your instincts knew it was dangerous; you were prehistorically conditioned through years of evolution and primal preservation to respond to fear. If you could stay calm, you won.
I went still. I stepped closer.
In this sort of situation, I knew that it was better to ask questions later. I also knew that it was better to be on the offense instead of the defense, so I quickly traveled down the hallway while gripping my assault rifle in both hands.
Once at the entrance to the room, I craned my neck to look inside, freezing when I saw three men sitting on a couch. It didn’t take me long to realize that they were drunk off their asses. One of them was snoring, and the other two were watching a terrible vintage porno on the television. Amateur lusty music filled the speakers. I literally caught them with their dicks out. The porno was in a foreign language, and the guards were jerking off and laughing at the eighties hair and terrible acting. I guess it distracted them from the awkwardness of wanking it together.
Beer bottles and white powder covered the coffee table, and the room smelled like stale farts. It was like walking into a frat house. I guess, while the boss was away, they wanted to play.
I continued to scan the room, then froze when I saw a fourth body tied up to a chair in the corner. Bruises and blood covered his face, making his features nearly impossible to make out. But I knew instantly who it was. Mack. Getting him out of here w
ould be fucking impossible. From the looks of it, he wasn’t even conscious.
His hair was greasy, like he hadn’t been allowed to shower in days. His skin was pale and clammy, like he was feverish. I’d bet my left nut that one of the many wounds covering his face was infected. He needed to be cleaned up and put on some antibiotics as soon as possible. I checked my watch. Fuck. I didn’t have time for this. Even if these drunk bastards weren’t paying attention, I knew we wouldn’t be alone for long. It wasn’t safe to linger.
One of the guys let out a laughing, repetitive grunt. “He, he, he.” It was timed to his meaty strokes, and I could see sweat dripping down his temple. Fucking gross. It felt similar to my last assignment back when I lived in Denver. Flashes of the hooker I shot in the motel echoed across my mind. I didn’t want to stick around. I easily aimed at the one going to town on his dick. The other one had already shot his load into a napkin. I breathed in. Breathed out. Pressed my index finger over the trigger and released a silent bullet through the air.
Down. Blood. Gore.
Screams. I released another. And another.
The three guards were dead in exactly six seconds.
I was simple and efficient. One minute, I had three grown ass men with families, pasts, sins, kinks, and preferences alive. The next, I sent them flying into oblivion. I was completely calm. Blood stained the powder blue couch. My heart rate slowed. My eyes closed. I could almost smell my mother’s perfume of cigarette smoke and disappointment.
To some, murder was this traumatic thing that scarred them for life.
My kills were anticlimactic and boring. This was why I hated it. It made me feel inhuman. It made me feel like my mother’s shitty boyfriend, Forest.
I jumped into action and quickly jogged toward Mack. Dropping to my knees, I shook his thighs gently, spurring him awake. Mack’s swollen eyes opened and widened as much as they could, taking in the sight of my mask-covered face in delirious confusion.
