Irreversible: The Hitman & The Heiress

by Alexx Andria

Choke on it, Torrence.

  And my inability to keep a house plant alive? Big deal. Plastic lives forever and never needs watering.

  My baby toe with the funky toenail? Whoop-de-do. Toes were ugly anyway.

  A hiccup of giggling popped from my mouth, attracting Dex’s gaze.

  Oh God. Those eyes — they were like lasers of pure lust beaming straight at me.

  The magazine dropped from my fingers and I scrambled to retrieve it, pretending as if he didn’t affect me in the least.

  “You’ve been reading that same article for about ten minutes,” he observed as he tucked his phone into his back pocket.

  So much for believing he wasn’t paying attention to me.

  I deliberately turned the page. “It’s very good.”

  “I didn’t take you for the Better Homes and Garden type.”

  I shrugged. “I’m a woman of many interests.” Total lie. But I hated being that easy to figure out. “In fact, I’ve always been a fan of Italian cooking.” That much was true. Pizza was practically one of my primary food groups. Gluten-free crust, of course. “So, anything of value to report from your fellow killers?”

  “Not yet. I need more information from you.”

  I would’ve preferred for him to remain across the room but he joined me on the lumpy sofa, as if he couldn’t have plopped his near-perfect behind elsewhere.

  “There are other chairs,” I pointed out in case he was blind.

  “Tell me about your life.”

  “I already did.”

  “I need to know more detail. Intimate details.”

  I shivered at the word, intimate. What did that mean? I covered my sudden thrill with a scowl. “Meaning?”

  “Last hook-up or boyfriend?”

  “I don’t casually date,” I answered with as much disdain as I could muster. It was easier to pretend my dateless Friday nights were out of choice rather than admit that I had a hard time connecting with regular people. Unlike him, I would guess. Women probably tossed their soaking wet panties at him as he walked by.

  Annoyed, he countered, “All right, last serious relationship. I’m trying to build a profile. No one springs out of the dirt like a Greek myth.”

  Heat rose in my cheeks. “Well, if you must know, I’ve been in a bit of a drought lately.”

  Drought. Ha! Good word for total celibacy.

  Dex dared to chuckle as he sprawled against the sofa, stretching out as if we were a couple and it was totally natural to chill together.

  “Okay, let’s start from the beginning.”

  Relieved we didn’t have to start talking about my embarrassingly short dating history, I answered with as much detail as I could manage, which was not much.

  “Born and raised in New York. Raised by a single mom. Never knew my dad. Unremarkable childhood. I discovered photography when I was in middle school. The yearbook club needed someone to take pictures and they thrust a camera into the hands of the shy girl in the back of the room. I fell in love with pictures from that moment forward.”

  “But you prefer landscapes and animals.”

  “Yes. Well, I don’t mind inanimate objects, too. Still art but animals are fun and landscapes remind me that there’s an entire world out there just waiting to be discovered.”

  The shy girl in the back had worlds she wanted to explore; a camera put the passport in my hand.

  I hadn’t meant to answer so wistfully but photography was my Achilles Heel. Photography touched a part of me that was solely mine.

  The fact that I was talented enough to make a living in the cutthroat world of photography was my secret source of pride.

  And I hadn’t meant to share that with Dex.

  I bit my lip as if to prevent myself from spilling more.

  But Dex had already moved on and I had little time to acknowledge the small pinch of disappointment.

  “Your mom, did she ever talk about your dad?”

  “No. He died when I was a baby, before I was born, actually.”

  “How?”

  “My mom said it was a car accident.”

  “Got any pictures of him?”

  I frowned. “One, maybe. Somewhere. I didn’t know the guy so I didn’t feel his loss, you know?”

  Dex chewed on my answers for a minute. He betrayed little in his expression but his eyes were like a storm. My heartbeat sped up a little. What would it be like to stare into those eyes, skin to skin? My throat dried and I wished I hadn’t tossed the magazine because I could’ve used something to occupy my nervous energy.

  “How’d you become a killer?” I blurted out, then winced. Smooth, real smooth. Too late to take it back, though. His story was likely far more interesting than mine, anyway.

  “Military. Trained to kill on the government’s dime. Then, when I was released from service, I knew there was one thing I was good at.”

  I tried not to shudder. Normal life didn’t prepare you for these kinds of conversations. “That’s it? I mean, lots of people go into the military to pay for college and they don’t come out as trained assassins. You couldn’t have become an accountant?”

  He laughed out loud. “Can you see me as an accountant?”

  I tried not to smile but failed. “Yeah, probably not.”

  I wasn’t throwing shade on accountants, because, hey, the world needed good bean counters, but sticking Dex behind a desk would be a crime.

  Err...but killing people was also a crime...

  My head began to swim.

  “Did you always want to be...a...um...killer for hire?” I asked. “On career day at school, did little Dex raise his hand and say, ‘I want to murder people for money!’?”

  His smile faded a little as he shook his head. “Not that I remember.”

  “What changed?”

  But he was done answering my questions. I could tell by the way his gaze shuttered that I’d been put outside whatever door had just slammed shut.

  He shocked me by pulling my feet toward him. I held my breath as he removed my socks. Would he freak out at my weird toe?

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my heart fluttering like a drunken butterfly.

  “Tell me what you did for fun,” he said, beginning to rub the sole of my foot.

  “W-when?”

  No one had ever rubbed my feet.

  I’d never even had a pedicure.

  Like I said before, toes were ugly.

  Why would I want anyone to touch them?

  But Dex’s hands on my feet...yeah, the wetness had begun all over again.

  Dex’s mouth quirked in a small tease of a smile. “Anytime. What does Breezy Grace do for fun?”

  Was this seduction?

  It was working.

  I’d make a terrible spy.

  So much for my iron will, right?

  I wet my bottom lip. “I...I like to fly kites.”

  What?

  I’ve never flown a kite in my life. “No, that’s a lie,” I admitted, bunching my brows to keep from moaning. “I don’t know why I said that but you’re distracting me with your foot magic.”

  His grin deepened with amusement at my accusation.

  It was certainly his fault that I couldn’t think straight.

  I’d fallen down a rabbit hole and Dex was either the Mad Hatter or the Cheshire cat.

  Jury was still out on which one.

  I tried to pull my foot out of his grasp but he shook his head in warning. His threat in the kitchen bloomed bright and vibrant in my memory.

  Would he really tie me to the bed?

  What else would he do to me if that happened?

  I suppose I could erase all doubt and ask.

  But you know what they said about that curious cat.

  Spoiler alert: it died.

  5

  DEX

  She had narrow, delicate feet.

  Much like the bow shape of her mouth.

  Except for the one pinky toe.

  It was delightfully gnarled.

>   I don’t know why I found that flaw adorably unique.

  Breezy was practically squirming off the sofa. Her show of nerves weren’t from fear. I could sense when someone was afraid. I could practically smell it coming off them in oily waves.

  “Breezy...”

  “No one calls me Breezy,” she blurted, swallowing quickly. “My name is Bree.”

  Bree.

  I liked the way it flowed from my lips.

  “Bree,” I said deliberately, deepening my strokes on the tender soles just enough to pop a moan from her mouth as her eyelids fluttered shut. “Tell me about your first time.”

  Her eyes popped open, completely alert. That question seemed to be the antidote to my ‘foot magic’ as she called it.

  “That’s pretty personal,” she said.

  “I told you I needed intimate details.”

  “I don’t see why that’s relevant,” Bree maintained, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “What about your first time?”

  “I was thirteen, she was eighteen. It was over quick.”

  Bree gasped in horror. “That’s called abuse. Someone should’ve reported her.”

  “I wasn’t complaining,” I returned with a sly smile. My neighborhood hadn’t been exactly Mayberry. Kids grew up fast. Losing my virginity had been a relief and she’d taught me a few things that I’d ended up putting to good use later.

  “Still, that’s creepy.”

  I chuckled. “Being with an older girl for a boy’s first time is the best. She showed me how to fuck a woman to make her cum, not just get my rocks off.”

  She blinked, unsure how to respond. Then, she admitted awkwardly, “I guess that’s a good thing to know.”

  “It is.”

  When you cum, do you do so softly with a sweet moan or do you scream to the rafters? The need to know burned. Everything about Bree was an enigma. My appetite for knowledge eclipsed any good sense I might’ve had. Are you a little closet freak, my nerdy girl? The possibility worked my gears hard.

  “Now your turn.”

  The pink in her cheeks made me want to gently knuckle the soft skin. Her embarrassment was a turn-on. The women in my circles were jaded, hard. They could blow you as easily as stab you in the heart without breaking a sweat.

  Nothing like Bree.

  I wanted to know who had broken her cherry. Had he been rough? Inconsiderate? Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am?

  Had she bled after being spread?

  My cock hardened painfully.

  “Tell me, Bree,” I instructed her, my voice roughening around the edges. “There could be details that are important.”

  Bree could see through my thinly veiled bullshit but she didn’t call me on it.

  Point in my favor.

  I rose and pulled her to a prone position so I could climb above her. Her eyes, magnified by those glasses, made her look comically adorable but I gently removed them.

  She blinked a few times as if to adjust her vision and her tongue darted along the seam of her lips.

  “Your first time,” I prompted. Her mouth worked soundlessly, almost begging. I wanted her unlike anything I’d ever known. The overwhelming lust was almost blinding. “Was he gentle?” I asked, pushing my hard cock against the sweet heat of her pussy. “Or did he hurt you when he went in?”

  She gasped at the feel of me pressed tightly against her. If she thought my foot magic was spectacular...I would pretty much render her dumb and mute with my cock.

  “Was it in the backseat of his car, all clumsy hands and awkward thrusts?” I guessed, picturing the scene as it might have unfolded.

  Except, I didn’t quite like the idea of anyone between her thighs but me. The odd spurt of jealousy was just another notch in the WTF column but there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Or let me guess, in your own bed, surrounded by the objects of your childhood, praying to God that your mother didn’t come home early and catch some guy humping away...a few harsh grunts and it was all over, making you wonder what all the fuss was about...”

  “Y-you have quite the imagination,” Bree said, her pupils dilated like saucers.

  I slowly let more of my weight settle on her frame. I wanted to sink into her body, going balls deep, driving myself to the hilt. My own breath became shallow, my erection, epic.

  Could I actually have found the way to silence Bree’s chatter? If only I could catch a peek into that skull of hers, to uncover her secrets. Her seemingly benign history was all the more fascinating because I knew she was hiding a crucial piece of the puzzle.

  Why wouldn’t she tell me if it could save her life?

  Or was it possible that Bree’s ignorance wasn’t a ruse?

  Either way, the mystery was a tease.

  And lucky me, I was committed to figuring it out.

  Bree’s gaze settled on my lips and it was everything I could do to stop from savagely taking her mouth. I wanted to taste her so badly I was losing the ability to remain in control.

  “Bree...”

  I surged against her. Bree gasped and her fingers curled at her sides as if she were trying to stop herself from clutching at me.

  God, I wanted to break her in half.

  Bree’s mouth opened on a breathless groan and I thought I’d won, until she said, “Holy shit, get off me. You weigh a ton! I’m not auditioning for Flat Stanely” and my ego took a hit right in the dome.

  6

  BREE

  I celebrated my narrow victory as the lust leached from Dex’s eyes. The chagrin in his expression was worth the embarrassment of knowing that I liked Dex on top of me.

  I liked it a lot.

  As much as I got all hot and bothered with Dex doing his thing, I couldn’t exactly just drop my drawers at the first hint of attraction.

  I had to have set the record for Stockholm syndrome. Barely twenty-four hours since he’d drugged and kidnapped me before I was practically throwing my legs up in the air for him.

  Dex rose from the sofa and I averted my eyes while he openly adjusted his erection.

  “Sorry, I lost my head for a minute,” he said, shoving his hand through his hair with agitation before muttering, “Fuck.”

  A silent thrill chased the knowledge that I had made his dick hard.

  Me. The shy, nerdy mouse girl who never got picked as anyone’s fantasy fodder...yeah, me.

  If only Karlie Chester could see me now. Karlie had made my four years in high school absolutely miserable.

  Typical mean girl — impossibly pretty, rotten personality — and dating the hottest guy in school.

  And she’d looooovvved picking on me.

  Not that the hottest guy had ever looked twice in my direction.

  But now? My hot AF would-be-killer-turned-guardian wanted to bone me.

  Maybe that wasn’t a big deal in most people’s world but...I had precious little experience in that department.

  I’d call that a win in my book. (Don’t judge me, my book is different than most.)

  Feeling magnanimous, I started to offer my own apology for being such a temptress but he cut me off.

  “I have to go out. You stay here,” he demanded, his tone brusque. Not surprising since I just gave him a raging case of blue balls but I didn’t like being barked at, no matter the reason.

  “Where you going?” I asked, scooting up, suddenly alarmed. “You can’t leave me all alone.”

  But he wasn’t swayed, saying, “I’ll be back.”

  He was leaving me? Whoa, whoa hold up there, Terminator. “Wait!” I called out, scrambling after him. I caught Dex at the door, grabbing his arm. “Where are you going? Remember the bounty on my head?”

  It happened so quickly.

  Within a heartbeat, Dex jerked me into his hard embrace and sealed his mouth to mine.

  I had little time to think, only react.

  My mouth opened eagerly as his tongue sought mine.

  He tasted of sin and ruin.

  Dangerous.

  Dex twisted
my arm behind me as he ravaged my mouth, I was trapped as he pulled me close.

  I’d always dreamed of being kissed like this — all-consuming passion and raw, animalistic hunger — but the kisses I’d received to that point had been lukewarm, sloppy pecks, at best. Lips pursed as if performing on a dare, little to no zing happening in my belly.

  Not like what was happening to me right that second.

  This was more than a kiss — this was a claiming.

  Everything about him was fierce and demanding. I’d never felt ultra girly — being taller than most women made men gunshy — but Dex made me melt like exquisite Belgium chocolate left near the hot stove.

  Yeah, gooey, was a perfect way to describe how I felt.

  I followed Dex’s lead — he was smooth and commanding. It seemed completely natural to have his tongue in my mouth.

  An actual make-out sesh!

  Like two sweaty teenagers on a quest of sexual discovery.

  Except Dex was as far from a teen as anyone could be.

  Hard muscle flexed in his forearm as he held me tight.

  He walked me back until I bumped into the counter. The urgency in his touch made me shake. There was nothing awkward about Dex. Everything he did was driven by hunger, like a predator stalking its prey.

  I was the prey.

  My bare toes curled.

  Sweat beaded my hairline as all senses went into overdrive.

  The spicy scent of his skin was like heaven, weaving a sensual haze around my senses.

  I wanted more.

  His large hand found my crotch and gripped it tightly, as if to say, I belonged to him.

  I cried out, too turned on to be embarrassed by the porn star sounds coming out of my mouth like triple X gibberish.

  When he rubbed the seam of my jeans against the ache in my lady parts, I nearly buckled.

  His strained chuckle at my response sent the shreds of my dignity scattering to the wind.

  “What if I told you I wanted to fuck you right here?” he murmured, his voice moving over me like silk. “Bent over this counter...spreading you wide so I could bury myself balls deep?”

  No one had ever talked to me like that.

  “But first I want to taste your pussy,” Dex said with a devilish grin that nearly stopped my heart. “I want to bury my face and eat you alive. What would you say to that?”