Irreversible: The Hitman & The Heiress

by Alexx Andria

  “What’s the club name?”

  “Pussywillow.”

  “Then, I say, let’s start there. We need to find a place to lay low until tonight. I might have an idea where we can crash.”

  “Yeah? Where?”

  “My friend’s father lost his job and the house went into foreclosure. They’ve since moved out of Detroit but I know the house is still empty. We can hide out there. No one will think to look there.”

  But I had a different idea.

  “Fuck that. We’ll freeze to death,” I told her. “I got cash. We’ll stay in a motel.”

  “Are you crazy? Someone will see us,” she disagreed with a worried frown. “Davonte’s got eyes all over this town.”

  “So, we’ll go where Davonte isn’t welcome.”

  “Such as?”

  “Davonte has enemies. He ain’t much liked by his rival, Terrance Johnson. Johnson owns a few gyms, bigger than McConnell’s and more spread out. He and Davonte have been at each other’s throats for years, cutting into each other’s territory.”

  “Why don’t we go to Terrance and see if he wants in on this action,” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Terrance is no better than Davonte. They’re both dogs, willing to eat their own mother to make a buck. I wouldn’t go nowhere near Terrance but I do know that Davonte will keep his guys out of Terrance’s territory.”

  “So where does Terrance claim?”

  “Downriver.”

  She made a small face. “Are you sure we should go there?”

  “We’ll be safer across enemy lines than sleeping with one eye open on Davonte’s stomping ground. It’s our best option at this point.”

  I didn’t really want to mess around with Terrance Johnson any more than I wanted to be on Davonte’s hit list but I didn’t have many viable “would rathers” available so beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Charlie must’ve realized I was right because she quit protesting. It was easy enough to find a small, no-name motel that accepted cash and asked no questions and by that night, we were stuffed into a tiny shithole motel that wasn’t much to look at but it seemed clean enough.

  At least clean enough by my standards.

  Charlie…maybe not so much.

  “One bed?” Charlie noted with distress, then looked to me with suspicion. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “I said, ‘I need a room’ tossed down some cash and he threw a key at me. I didn’t specify one bed,” I told her but I was eyeing that bed as if it were the enemy just as much as she was eyeing me. “Look, nothing will happen. I ain’t into deflowering virgins. I like my women more seasoned.”

  Her cheeks flared with heat but she lifted her chin and said, “Good. Because I like my men more…civilized.”

  “And how exactly would you know that?” I countered, amused by how quickly she got her dander up. “You don’t have a clue as to what kind of man you prefer between your thighs.”

  Probably wrong choice of words.

  Immediately, the memory of her sweet taste jumped to mind and I hardened like a goddamn stone.

  I turned away as if irritated. “See? That’s the problem with virgins, yapping away about shit they know nothing about.”

  “I might be a virgin but I know what kind of man I’m attracted to,” Charlie said to my back.

  Her words stuck to my skin, causing a growl to erupt. I returned to face her.

  Charlie’s breath hitched but she held her ground as if I didn’t cause the color to flare in her face, staining the porcelain skin a delicate pink.

  “Yeah?” I asked, deceptively soft as I closed the distance between us. “And what kind of man would that be, princess?”

  I towered over her but I could feel the energy between us crackle with raw electricity. She was as wild as she was mouthwatering.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tremulous. “Stop it.”

  I wasn’t in a habit of pushing where I wasn’t wanted when it came to women but I knew Charlie was talking shit.

  She didn’t know what she wanted.

  Her golden eyes dilated as I invaded her space, her soft lips parted almost in invitation, yet the words coming out of that mouth remained sharp.

  “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how my foot feels buried in your nuts?”

  I chuckled in spite of the imminent danger of never being able to father kids. “Oh, I remember. Perhaps you’ve already forgotten how my mouth feels against your clit?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  The reluctant admission plucked at my ability to simply tease. A hunger ripped into my guts, fierce as fuck, and I needed to taste her or I would die.

  Her back against the dingy wall, her neck craning to hold my stare, I dipped to take her mouth.

  Jesus, had sugar ever tasted so sweet?

  Her tongue sought mine in a delicate invitation and I didn’t hesitate.

  Hoisting her onto my hips, I pressed her hard against the wall, sealing my mouth to hers.

  She tasted of wild honey and untamed dreams.

  I groaned, grinding my rock-hard cock against the softness of her mound.

  She shuddered helplessly in my arms but the sound coming from her lovely throat was just as hungry as mine.

  Maybe a motel room had been a bad idea after all.

  I wanted to throw Charlie down on that bed and obliterate her virginity, take what I knew in my bones belonged to me.

  I wanted to sear my name into her memory so that no matter where she went, I would follow.

  It was pure insanity.

  I’d fucking lost my mind in a short span of time.

  It was Charlie.

  All Charlie.

  I’d gone thirty-five years without losing my head to a woman but locking eyes with this little firecracker had unsealed something wickedly intense and I couldn’t seem to fight it.

  Panic at my own loss of control roughened my voice as I broke the kiss, my hands clutching her plump ass as if my life depended on it. “Who the fuck are you, woman? And why can’t I get enough?”

  Charlie, her eyes clouded with a sensual haze, could only shake her head, equally tilted by the nuclear energy between us. “I…”

  “Fuck that. Don’t answer. I don’t think I want to know,” I cut her off, my tongue in her mouth, tasting, needing, demanding. I gave her little option but to submit as she softened in my arms.

  I struggled against the cocooning heat, insulating us against the world, against the consequences.

  Stop. She’s a goddamn virgin.

  Don’t take her cherry.

  Nothing will ever be the same.

  But just the thought of being the first to breach those milky white thighs, to part those strawberry gold curls and sink into that soft womanly flesh…it was more than I could stand.

  My thoughts swam, there was no more blood flow to my brain.

  My cock was harder than it’d ever been before, as if preparing for the most epic moment of its life.

  And those desperate mewling noises as Charlie clung to me, the heat of her pussy right at my groin…it was more than I could handle.

  Charlie could protest that I wasn’t the man she wanted but her body said otherwise.

  And I was about to prove it to her.

  16

  Charlie

  Damon infiltrated my every sense.

  The smell of his skin, sharp and masculine, created a hunger in the pit of my belly that I couldn’t stop.

  The feel of his lips devouring mine left me mindless.

  The taste of his tongue inside my mouth fed a fire I desperately craved yet had never experienced.

  But my head was screaming, NOT HIM.

  Not a fighter.

  Not a thick-headed thug.

  And yet, I wasn’t ready to make him stop.

  I was wet, slippery, needy.

  Pathetic.

  That last word rang through my brain, squashing my arousal. “Damon! No…” I wrenched my mouth away from
his, pushing against him and struggling to get out of his arms, desperate words flowing from my lips. “I don’t want to do this with you,” I cried.

  My rejection punctured the haze clouding his eyes and he dropped me unceremoniously. His gaze narrowed, taking in how breathless I remained, how flushed my skin was, and his lip curled with derision. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I can smell how wet your pussy is from here.”

  I blushed hard but I held my ground. “You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet. You should write for Hallmark.” I wiped his kisses away from my mouth, my heart still thundering. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not interested?”

  “Stop looking at me like that, then.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want me to fucking ignore everything you’re saying and just bend you over this bed.”

  Oh God. Was I really sending those signals? The warning tingle in my belly suggested he was right. There was something about being in his arms…felt like…safety.

  Which was patently ridiculous.

  Safe with Damon?

  I’d probably be safer sleeping with Davonte.

  But it was more than that.

  Damon ignited feelings I didn’t want.

  All that hard muscle pressed against me, towering over me, the thought of him being the first to touch me, to break me apart…I suppressed a knowing shudder, afraid he would easily see right through me.

  “Just keep your mitts to yourself,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t tremble. “I mean it.”

  I expected Damon to rage.

  To yell.

  To call me names.

  I didn’t expect him to smile.

  And, oh my God, that smile did things…scary things.

  He closed the distance between us with one step.

  I sucked in a wild breath as he took hold of my chin, prisoning me in place, forcing me to hold his gaze.

  The masculine spice of his skin drugged my senses and my breath became shallow.

  “I don’t play games,” he said simply, the warmth of his breath caressing my cheek. “You and I both know I will be the one between those thighs so get right with the idea, princess. It ain’t right, it don’t make sense, but that pussy belongs to me and I will be claiming it. Soon.”

  He shocked me with a tender kiss brushed against my parted lips before releasing my chin.

  Then he was all business as he headed out the door with terse instructions.

  “Lock this door. Open it for no one but me. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  I must’ve been holding my breath for once the door closed with Damon on the other side, I exhaled loudly, still unable to believe what’d just happened between us.

  It’d felt more intimate, more scathingly honest than anything I’d ever experienced in my life.

  He was right — if I wasn’t vigilant, Damon would take my virginity as if it belonged to him.

  I closed my eyes, my hand cupping my mound through the rough jean material.

  My clit was swollen, aching.

  Grinding the heel of my palm against my pubic mound, I gasped as a ripple cascaded through me, sweet, yet still unsatisfying.

  Where was he going?

  Maybe to cool off?

  Maybe to get some other chick to blow him.

  Good, I thought against the sudden splash of jealousy that came out of nowhere. Let him get his rocks off elsewhere, then maybe he’ll leave me alone.

  I should’ve been relieved.

  He was out of my hair, I was safe for the moment, and I could concentrate on my strategy.

  But instead…I was chewing on my fingernail, wondering where the hell Damon had gone off to.

  Real productive.

  I didn’t know this guy. Up until a few days ago, he was nothing to me.

  I mean, honestly, how did these sort of things happen?

  One minute I was sleeping beside him, a total stranger, and the next, his face was buried between my legs.

  Oh Jesus, don’t think of that.

  But it was too late.

  My brain wasn’t playing fair.

  My gray matter seemed soaked in sex juice.

  I fell onto the bed, my eyes closed, my knees pressed together.

  I won’t touch myself while thinking of him.

  But…that mouth.

  That tongue.

  Those big, fucking hands.

  I groaned and shimmied out of my jeans, kicking them off so I could spread my legs wider.

  I quickly found the damp curls with my fingers, delved between hot folds and moaned as I rubbed my swollen clit.

  My fingers were no substitute for Damon’s mouth.

  But I was desperate for release, anything to keep myself from doing something I regretted later.

  Sweat beaded my brow as I rubbed harder, sliding my fingers down the sensitive ridge, returning to the swollen nub.

  Just as I thought it was going to happen, it didn’t.

  Frustration built as my climax slipped away.

  I pounded the bed in impotent fury knowing that all I had to do to orgasm was to think of Damon.

  Damon doing what he wanted to me.

  Damon pressing me into the bed with that hulking body of his…

  Damon eating me out like a starving man with his first real meal.

  Damon.

  Like a magic switch…I was ready again.

  Fuck it. It was just in my head. He didn’t have to know.

  It felt like a dirty secret, a taboo desire, a shameful need.

  And it worked.

  Ahhhhhhh, fuck!

  I exploded in a wash of color and sensation, every muscle clenching as I stiffened against the painfully beautiful pleasure commandeering my body.

  I rocked, my thighs sliding against one another, creating more friction against my pulsing clit.

  Ohhhhh damn.

  I collapsed, boneless, melting into the bed as I savored every last spasm as they slowly faded into a warm memory.

  My arm thrown over my eyes, I let my eyes drag shut. I was so tired.

  It was only eight o’clock but I was exhausted.

  I climbed into the bed with the last of my energy, snuggled into the comforter and went lights out.

  So much for just catching a few winks…

  17

  Damon

  The octane running through my veins was high enough to fuel a jet. I had to get away from Charlie before I took her, right there, against the wall.

  I’d been ready to fuck the cherry right out of her.

  And it would’ve been a disaster.

  I couldn’t explain the attraction between us anymore than she could.

  She hated that her body spoke to mine, and frankly, I wasn’t too happy about it either.

  Things would’ve been a helluva lot easier if Charlie had never crossed my path.

  If I’d never tasted her sweetness.

  Never hungered for more.

  I wasn’t that guy.

  I wasn’t going to drop to my knee, profess my love and shit.

  I mean, I was a fighter. Bloody knuckles and broken bones were my trade.

  And she hated everything about that life.

  I get it…her brother died in the ring…but that didn’t mean all fighters were bad.

  Some kids used the ring to stay out of trouble.

  Growing up in this town…it wasn’t easy.

  Have a place to channel that raw anger…sometimes it meant the difference between making it and not getting yourself killed on the streets.

  Gang-banging, drugs, the general oppression of total poverty…yeah, growing up in this city was like running a gauntlet from the day you were born.

  The Underground wasn’t the problem, it was the management.

  But one problem at a time.

  With Charlie safely out of Davonte’s territory, I returned to start asking questions.

  First, I headed to Pussy Willow, the strip joint where I knew Davonte ra
n some deals through.

  Contrary to what I told Charlie, I knew of someone who might be interested in stabbing Davonte in the back but going to her was a gamble.

  She could just as quickly and easily double cross me, too.

  Chantel.

  I wound my way through the crowded bar and settled in at a table in a far corner.

  Chantel and I went way back.

  We fucked a little, nothing serious.

  But Chantel was a wild card.

  One minute she was giving you the most amazing blow job of your life and the next, she was serving your nuts up to her matching dobermans.

  Crazy women were an adventure in the sack but one that could end up killing you.

  Kinda like climbing Mt. Everest — exhilarating but one wrong move and you’re fucked.

  It didn’t take long before one of the girls sidled up to me, purring like a kitten, pressing fake tits into my face.

  “See anything you like?”

  “Tell Chantel, Damon is here to see her,” I said, cutting straight to the chase.

  The woman dropped her seductress act and said, “Chantel isn’t here.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Nothing went down in Pussywillow without Chantel knowing about it.

  She had eyes and ears everywhere, which meant the she-devil was lurking in the shadows somewhere.

  “And in the meantime, bring me a shot of Jameson.” I tucked a twenty between her tits. “Keep the change, doll face.”

  She glowered and pulled the money free, giving me an excellent view of her ass as she went to do as she was told.

  It didn’t take long before Chantel emerged, looking as dangerous as ever, hard as fucking rock.

  “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Chantel drawled, taking my measure as if trying to decide whether to kiss me or kill me.

  When she commandeered my shot, slamming it before taking her seat opposite me, I figured the odds were in my favor that she was at least curious. “I heard Manny cut you loose.”

  Ah, going straight for the tender spots. “You heard right.”

  She chuckled in amusement. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You lack that certain something in the ring. It was just a matter of time.”

  I bit back my growl. Nothing like being emasculated by a nut-chewing ball-buster. Good fun.