by A. K. Koonce
He touches me like my pussy is something he’s studied for years. It’s like he’s now earned a degree in Pussyology and I never even realized I was the textbook.
His mouth replaces his hand and my fingers tighten on the smooth frame of the bed as he repeats that teasing motion over and over again.
The coiling feeling within me becomes unbearable, and my hips thrust against him while his nails dig into my skin as he holds me down against the swirling, sliding, thrusting motion of his tongue, and it all just builds and builds.
Until my orgasm crashes hard enough to make me scream, with my head thrown back as every part of my body trembles above him.
His mouth slows, sucking ever so delicately against my wetness.
And it’s so… wet.
I blink at the wall, lingering there and not knowing how to even face the man whose face is hidden between my incredibly damp thighs.
“I—” I swallow dryly.
I fucking came on his face.
Heat flares up my throat and across my features.
I can never have sex with him now. I had no idea he had these special powers to make me spray like a cat and give me the best release I’ve ever felt in my life.
The embarrassment is almost equal to the reward.
He shoves my hips and pins my small body beneath him in one fluid move. The soft pillow puffs up around my still stunned features.
His palm wipes slowly down his face, and his eyes are heated as he stares at my flushed cheeks.
I want him… I don’t want to spray like a feral cat… I do want that orgasm though…
“Don’t do that again,” I warn slowly, with wide eyes like his magical abilities might get me without him even touching me.
“Oh, you’re doing it again,” he rasps, his body kneeling between my weak, open thighs.
His fingers unbutton the shining metal on his jeans, sliding down as he unzips slowly, mesmerizing me while the drilling sound of my heart races louder and louder with every move he makes. He pushes his jeans down, and the thickness of his cock is revealed as he kicks out of his last remaining articles of clothing.
And then he’s naked before me, looking like a warrior god carved from stone. His big hand lowers and he grips himself in a way I’ve only ever imagined him doing.
“You like to watch, right?” His low spoken question hums right into me.
I nod, eyes big, unbelieving of what my normally quiet boyfriend is doing right now.
“Well, I like when you come. I like when it soaks down my cock. I like when you’re so fucking turned on you can’t control it.” He slants his head at me, leveling me with his hooded eyes. “Okay?”
My breath is long forgotten in my lungs, and I nod continuously as I watch his hand start to stroke slowly up then down.
I never would have thought my sweet, asshole assassin would be this fucking dirty.
And I love it.
His big thighs tense, his forearm going rigid, while he works himself with lazy, slow strokes. Then, his wrist rolls while his palm holds his cock and slides over the head just right before gliding all the way back down again.
My thighs shift, and then he’s locking me in with his hands on each side of my head. My chin tips up to him and his mouth claims mine the moment I’m close enough.
For several seconds he just kisses me.
Then I feel his cock slide against my clit, down my folds, and he thrusts in so hard my head hits the headboard. A gasp catches in my throat and he pulls back to hear that little desperate sound. Dark emerald eyes shine in the dim lighting of the room as he rocks slowly and leisurely at first. He’s pressed so closely against me that he seems to makes sure he’s grinding himself into my clit with every deliberate thrust he gives me.
The pace quickens, his dark lashes close, and my fingers dig into his skin as a sensation claws into me and starts to twirl low in my core. It's a heightened feeling and every thrust of his cock is magnified with trembling pleasure. I fuck him harder, trying to catch that spark of fire I can sense but can’t reach.
He drills into me faster, pumping hips so hard something cracks within the bed, but he never stops. And I never want him to.
With another hard thrust, he groans against my neck, gripping my hip so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t stop thrusting, he keeps going. My breath trembles as he slides in and out so fast that I can’t catch my breath, and everything is too hard to reach and it’s all just too much.
The orgasm slams through me. My spine arches, and he holds me like that, with my neck angled and my body feeling uncontrollable, as the release shakes through every part of me.
“That’s it, baby.” Warm lips press against my exposed throat, my orgasm soaking his cock just like he wanted.
Strong arms wrap fully around me, his body covering mine completely, and I have to force myself to look into those warm green eyes.
The embarrassment I felt the first time isn’t there. I felt so good. For both of us. Everything feels right and blissfully perfect. Unrealistically amazing.
Intensify.
The strangest look crosses his features, his brows pulling down from their previously relaxed state.
My palm pushes across his dark beard as I skim my fingers over the frown on his face.
“That symbol intensifies everything, you know?” He glances shyly up at me.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
His tongue slides slowly across his lips like his mouth is too dry to get the serious words out.
“I-I love you, Alexa.”
Emotions bloom through my chest. It really does feel different right now.
But I know it’s not because of the magical symbol carved into the board above us.
It’s so pure. It’s something that’s always been there between us, but now it’s overwhelmingly pressing.
“I love you too,” I whisper, a smile spreading across my face the longer I look at him.
His own happiness washes over his face, and his bright white teeth show just before he presses his lips to mine.
He kisses me for a long time like that, and the feeling never leaves, even for an instant.
It stays. It… intensifies.
Fourteen
Cars, Vaginas, and Love
“He worked under my pussy the way a mechanic would work under your car. And I don’t even know anything about cars. Maybe I don’t even know anything about my own vagina now…” My astounded voice rises and my eyes grow wide.
“You seem intimidated by that,” Scarlett observes, over her morning coffee.
“I kind of am.”
“What are you guys whispering about?” Mason slides into the seat next to mine at our long, custom built table.
“Cars,” I blurt out at the same time as Scar says, “Vaginas.”
Slowly, he pushes his black framed glasses a bit higher. Mason looks from me to my friend, and then back again with big and very confused, but very interested, brown eyes.
He looks as lost as I feel right now.
But there’s one thing I’m not confused about. Mason and Rory made me a present.
Kind of. Can a room be a present?
“Thank you for the room.” My palm glides over his and he snatches it with so much quickness, I barely see it when he takes my hand in his. He presses a lingering kiss to the center of my palm, making my breath catch.
“You guys are the only people I know who help other men bone their girlfriend.” Scarlett arches a manicured eyebrow at Mason, and her words only make him smile mischievously. “It worked, I guess. He told her he loved her too. All your hard work paid off.” Scarlett gets a sort of fairytale tone in her voice, but all of a sudden that smile is gone from Mason’s lips and his hand slips away from me all at once.
“Rory told you he loved you? After having sex once?” Dark eyes shift back and forth in front of me, but he never actually looks my way.
After having sex once… Is there a number of sexual encounters and positions I’m supposed to
hit before earning someone’s love?
I blink at the confusing man by my side for several seconds, but then it all clicks.
Mason and I have had sex more times than I’ve ever had sex with the same person. Not that the record was hard to beat before he came along. The number was one. Let’s be honest. There were no repeat men running back for a more committed relationship with a woman who might kill them just because her boss said so.
Mason stands at once, his chair dragging harshly behind him. That lost look in his dark eyes is still there when he glances my way.
His throat clears and he starts to leave. “I just remembered, I have… an entire fucking building of work to do,” he whispers awkwardly.
Scarlett’s gaze flicks to me, but I can’t take my eyes off Mason as he strides quickly away.
“Jealousy does exist in your little assembly of men,” she muses between sips of coffee.
Jealousy.
I have no idea how to fix something like that. Should I just give him space?
“Just give him time.” She pauses, as if thinking over her words. “If you’re interested in a little tidbit of information, Tylin and Archer are in his office right now having a meeting. They just got back this morning,” Scarlett offers, shifting the conversation and pointedly distracting me from the sinking feeling that’s dropping through my stomach.
It works.
It looks like jealousy will have to wait.
Fifteen
Birth of the Anti-League
Tylin and Archer are deep in conversation in the mess of a random room Tylin has claimed as his office space. Like the good, lurking assassin I am, I lounge against the doorway and try to overhear any snippets of their talk that I can, but the assholes seem to know I’m here, and they don’t raise their voices loud enough for my eavesdropping to be effective.
I still loom there anyway, because making them uncomfortable during their meeting is more satisfying than walking away.
When they’re finally done, Archer heads toward the doorway, dipping his head in one smooth motion as he passes by me. “Alexa.”
“Archer.” Our usual cold greeting remains, and I wait until he saunters his ass down the hallway before rounding the corner and heading into the disheveled room.
Stained wooden doors lay against the far wall, bits of trim have been thrown there too, and endless cans of paint line the floor, and it makes me crazy to even think about the overflowing pile the guys are calling the recyclables.
Tylin leans over his desk as he scribbles something down on the pristine white paper in front of him, but his lips tip up at the corners from my presence.
“Get what you wanted?” He smirks and I know he knows I didn’t hear anything.
“Not yet.” I purse my lips and move around his desk, wrapping my arms around him from behind. The hard muscles of his back press against my soft front, and for a single second, I just enjoy holding on to the solidness of his body. It feels safe being wrapped around pure strength. With the way he melts into me just a fraction, I wonder if it feels safe for him to be in my arms too.
Peering around his frame, I try to get a read on what he’s writing, but he slaps the notebook shut and shifts us, turning in my arms and wrapping his own around my waist as he pulls me closer, my legs straddling one of his thighs. Gentle power surrounds me with his body pressed so perfectly to mine. The position is sexy, and my pulse picks up speed from the dominant way he holds me.
But my mouth and mind are always interrupting. “What’s happening?” I ask. It’s a quiet demand in the still space, and I see the way Tylin shakes his head in the smallest, amused move.
“You won’t stop until you know what’s going on, will you?”
“You should know me better by now.” I arch a brow and study him.
Tylin sighs. “I do, which is why I planned to fill you in anyway.”
I try not to let my grin of victory curl my lips, but my halfhearted efforts are useless. What can I say? I like winning.
“So, what’s the plan with Archer?” I tilt my head and gaze at him.
“We’re setting up a place where he can work, somewhere away from here. We’ve located a warehouse downtown that looks like a good option. He’ll be able to unmake assassins who show up willingly.” I know it’s probably for the best—especially if it’s what the hunters want—but something about losing powers doesn’t sit right with me. Being so much and then being stripped to so little is a hard concept to stomach. “I know that look,” Tylin grips my chin lightly and forces my gaze back to his, “but this is what they want. If they choose it, how can we say no? There are too many of us, Lex. We flood this city. Taking away the powers of those who opt for that option, it only helps stabilize a very overly charged environment. We have our work cut out for us. We’re lucky that each and every day more assassins are showing up here and choosing a different life, but just as many are still on the other side, and it’s dangerous.” Reaching over to a shelf behind him, he pulls out a newspaper and presses it into my hands.
Scrunching my face in confusion, I glance down at the slashing letters that make up the front page, skimming over the headlines and then flipping through the rest. Death and more death coats the pages from assassination attempts to murders that are being marked as gang related. Except we all know better. “I didn’t realize…” My voice stammers out on a breath and my worried eyes meet Tylin’s.
“This is why we need to move quickly. The more work we can give to our Hunters, the more stable our organization will be. The more we can retrain these assassins in our new way of living, the better we’ll all be. It might be enough to tip the scales in our direction and bring in the Hunters and Huntresses that are running wild in the streets.” A spark of hope flares in his eyes and I know it’s mirrored in my own as I let myself fully embrace his vision for the future.
“What can I do to help?” I inquire, and I truly want to know.
“Keep training. It’s important that we evaluate the assassins living under our roof. Be careful, because the situation, however stable we try to make, is still volatile. We’re living with assassins who’ve never had to interact as a team this much in their entire lives. I don’t expect the transition to be seamless or peaceful.”
“They seem to be doing well so far. The common rooms are full every night,” I reassure him, running my palms over the hard panes of his chest as I soothe him.
“That’s good to know. I haven’t gotten a lot of time to interact with the daily tasks it takes to keep this place running. I’m counting on you and the guys to keep an eye on things for me when I can’t be there.” His thumb smooths a line along my jaw and his eyes drop to my lips as we caress each other, getting distracted from the heavy topics weighing down the room.
“We are. We’re behind you Tylin,” I promised softly.
Then his lips are on mine and he’s kissing me in the sweetest way. His lips glide effortlessly against mine and his hands settle back on my hips, pulling me flush against his body. My center meets his thigh in a sensual rub that has me gasping, and opening my mouth just in time for Tylin’s tongue to slip inside. Each flick and rub of his tongue against mine sends my breath quaking through me, and I groan as his hands begin to trail along the curve of my lower back and then higher, raising my shirt with every inch he blazes. The feeling of his skin on mine makes me sigh with the contentment I feel coursing through my entire body.
This, right here, is the life I want to live with him.
When he breaks away, my eyes stay closed until Tylin’s thumbs raise back to my face and stroke over the curve of my cheekbones. I blink my eyes open and all I see is happiness. Both his and mine.
“Come on. I think the guys are waiting on us for lunch.” Tylin pushes me gently away and takes my hand, pulling me after him out the door and down the hallway, until we’re passing through the foyer and into the kitchen. I hear the low hum of voices floating to us from farther down the corridor, creeping through the double doors of
the room we’ve set up as the cafeteria, complete with its own kitchen and serving line. This room, this kitchen, it’s for us.
“What are we having today?” Tylin sniffs the air and eyes the food Rory is setting onto a large platter.
“Sandwiches.” He grunts. “I’m not a chef.” He glances over his shoulder and damned if I don’t see a small blush tinge his cheeks.
He made me a bed, made me come repeatedly in it, told me he loved me, and then made me sandwiches.
The perfect man does exist.
“I like sandwiches,” I declare with a smile, and slip away from Tylin before heading to my gentle giant, and wrapping my arms around his waist while he works. “I’ll eat anything you make.”
“Get a room,” Jameson teases, as he enters the kitchen and joins us.
“We have one.” Rory’s low tone sounds smug, and my face heats at the reminder of the way he worked my body just the other night. Out of their own wanton need, my thighs shift, and the guys notice.
“You’d think we didn’t take care of her enough.” Jameson tosses me a wink with his good eye, and I have the decency to return his snark with a glare of my own.
“All of you guys held out on me for weeks.”
Everyone stops.
“It was like three days, Sexless Lex,” Jameson counters.
I ignore the taunting name completely as my eyes narrow. I mentally try to track down my sex calendar that I keep on file, but that math doesn’t sound right.
It was months or weeks at least.
Years maybe.
Definitely longer than three days… I think.
“There is never, ever a thing as too much sex.” The defensive retort leaves my lips just as Scarlett enters the room.
“Amen sister!” She grins at me and hops onto the kitchen counter, stealing a bag of chips that she beings popping into her mouth.
“Fuck. Scarlett!” Jameson’s growl is nearly a yell and the look he sends his sister could kill. “I’m already fucking scarred for life.”
