Lace and Bullets: A Hitman Romance

by Marie Carnay

  Pulling his hat down tighter over his face, he strode out from the back, black t-shirt and pants blending into the shadows of the booth as he slipped inside. He picked up the headphones from the table and put them on, filtering out the shouts and catcalls and focusing on his job.

  Slow burning lust and anger filled him and he knew exactly what kind of night he’d spin. With a nod to the crowd, he started up, filling the speakers with a hard-hitting, guttural bass that shook the floor. A wave went through the crowd—a steady rumble of bodies bouncing and mashing together.

  Harder and harder the music hit, ramping up the energy, revving the crowd into a frothy frenzy. Everything he felt inside—his attraction and Jessica’s need—poured out of his fingers and into the controls.

  The crowd swayed, rolling on his energy, feeding off the electronic beat he created. He didn’t know if they’d come expecting dirt and grit and neon magic, but he gave it to them. Channeling his guilt and shame into a velvet fist that reached out and took control. And they loved it.

  The crowd ate out of his hand, girls crushing against the booth in skimpy little skirts and dresses, halter tops with boobs spilling over the top. Guys grinding up against them, tearing their hands up and down their sweaty bodies in simulated sex right on the floor.

  With every song, Tate felt lighter. The burden of his stepsister fading into the corners of his mind and eclipsed by the bass. He launched into a rising crescendo, a rhythmic swell of music and sound that lit the club on fire. His favorite part of every show.

  Looking up, he surveyed the crowd—his crowd—thousands of people all lost in the moment. And he let the bass drop. The dancers roared—screaming out in ecstasy as the music opened up and swallowed them whole.

  As he smiled, surveying his domain with satisfaction, he froze. No. No. Fuck.

  She was there. Jessica danced twenty feet in front of him, hips swaying and rocking like everyone else. Her dress fit her like a glove—all see-through lace and mesh. And with her heels, she looked six-foot tall. Damn.

  As he watched, spellbound by her rhythm, a man crept up behind her. He grabbed her hips, grinding his dick into her ass and not letting go. Shoving the bastard off of her, Jessica stepped away, only to have him close the gap and try again. The guy snaked his hands up her hips, running higher and higher until he palmed her tits. What the fuck!

  White hot rage filled him and he ripped his headphones off.

  She wasn’t doing it on purpose, was she? Letting some man paw her like a damn animal to get back at him? He shook his head, grinding his teeth as the guy ran his hands back down, sliding down her bare thighs and up her dress.

  Tate balled his hands into fists, ready to march out on the floor and punch the guy into last year, when Jessica whipped around and stomped. Hard. The asshole’s face contorted with pain and anger and Tate wasn’t waiting another second.

  It didn’t matter why she was there dancing with some stranger in front of his booth. She needed him. He leaped over the table and stormed through the crowd, parting the seas of his fans and reaching Jessica just as the man reached out to grab her.

  Tate swung without thinking, slamming his fist into the man’s face before the son of a bitch could even react. The asshole fell to the floor in an instant, knocked out cold.

  The crowd parted, forming a circle around Tate, Jessica and the heap on the floor. Bouncers tore through the crowd, moving people aside with one hand as they talked into earpieces.

  Shit. Spinning on his heels, he turned to his stepsister. “Are you okay?”

  She dove for him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her head into his chest. “I am now.”

  Tate pushed her back, searching her face as the music faded. Damn it. He needed to get the party revved back up before he ruined the club’s entire night. He didn’t care about the job—it wasn’t like he couldn’t get another gig in a heartbeat, but he liked the owner. And he didn’t want to cause him unnecessary expense.

  “Come on. You’re with me in the booth for the rest of the show.”

  He pulled Jessica back around the tables and up into the DJ booth. Slipping his headphones on, he launched into the music, turning the heavy, gritty thump into a sultry purr that calmed the crowd and mellowed the buzz. He’d had enough punches for one night.

  A pair of bouncers walked up to the booth and motioned for him to come over. He pulled one ear free and leaned toward them. “Hey guys.”

  “What the hell was that, T? You know fighting’ll get you fired.”

  “Yeah, I know. But that asshole assaulted her. Slid his hands under dress and grabbed her tits. If I hadn’t stepped in, it could have been a lot worse.”

  The bouncers glanced at each other and then back at Tate. “All right, man. If you say so. But next time, leave the fighting to us, okay?”

  Tate nodded and the pair walked away. He wasn’t about to tell them he’d do it again without a second thought.

  Turning to look at Jessica, Tate shook his head. She leaned back onto the wall, hugging herself and swaying to the music. So beautiful. The lace hugged all the right places—showing off her sexy ass and miles of legs. As she rocked back and forth, her hair fell across her face in dark waves and he groaned.

  He hated to admit it, but after seeing her with that asshole…He didn’t want to share. Or think about her pinned beneath some other man, calling out his name instead of Tate’s. He wanted her for himself. And no one else. Fuck it being wrong.

  Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her towards him. Nuzzling her neck, he brushed his lips across her ear.

  “So did you come here to make me jealous?”

  She turned her head and smiled into his cheek. “Did it work?”

  Tate held up his hand, the knuckles bloodied and swollen. “What do you think?”

  “I’m sorry, Tate. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. He just wouldn’t leave me alone. The jerk bought me a drink at the bar and when I blew him off, I guess he got pissed. I tried to get away from him. I—”

  “It’s okay. But you’re not leaving my side the rest of the night.”

  Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her in front of him, nestling her ass in front of his crotch. He could spin with her wedged against his dick. It wasn’t that hard. Yet.

  Running his hands up her sides, he pressed himself against her, grinding into her as the bass throbbed through the club.

  She turned her head and whisper-shouted in his exposed ear. “I thought you punched guys for groping me?”

  “I do. I’m the only one who can grope you in this club.” He dug his fingers into her hips, forcing her body back into his. “I’m the only one who can grind against your tight little ass and make you moan.”

  * * *

  Jessica could barely breathe. She wanted to turn around, drop to her knees, and give him a blow job right there. His dick hardened against her and she moaned.

  “I want more, Tate. I want you to—”

  Tate cut her off with a finger in the air and she bit her lip to keep from pouting. The next DJ stood at the edge of the booth, watching them as he waited to take their place.

  “Give me a sec, okay?”

  Jessica nodded and stepped back as Tate handed the booth over. Her skin tingled and an ache deep in her core hinted at more than just dirty lust. Tate stood up for her. Punched a man unconscious for her, risking his job and an assault charge.

  And to top it all off, he was a damn fine DJ. The way he tapped into the crowd, sensing their vibe, amping up the energy. Pure skill. Watching him standing in the booth, controlling a throng of people with a beat. So fucking sexy.

  Walking back to her, he took her hand and escorted her down the steps and into the back of the club. After a few turns and nods from employees, Tate shoved a door open and humid Miami air hit Jessica in a stifling burst.

  Tate pulled her into the back parking lot and turned to face her.

  “You shouldn’t have come tonight, Jess.�
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  “I said I’m sorry, Tate. I never meant to put you in that position.”

  “It’s not that. If you ever needed me—if some asshole ever hurt you…” He stepped toward her and she stepped back, her back brushing against the brick wall of the club. Tate came right up to her, standing so close she could smell the sweat on his skin.

  “I’m sorry, Tate.” Her words came out in a breathy whisper. “I don’t know what more you want me to say.”

  “I don’t want you to say anything.” He leaned in, eyes wide open, and kissed her.

  His lips pressed into hers and she melted. A pat of butter sizzling on burning steel. Tate swiped her lips with his tongue, closing his eyes as she opened her mouth. She let him in on a moan and he took advantage, raking his tongue over hers, flicking against her teeth and teasing.

  Reaching up, she palmed his chest, spreading her fingers across his tense muscles, reveling in the strength beneath his shirt. But as she slid her hands lower, he groaned—a rumble from deep inside—and pulled her hands away.

  He broke their kiss and pressed her arms into the wall. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

  Oh, god. Why did he make her so crazy? Reckless and desperate for his body all over her. No man had ever turned her on so fast. So easy.

  She whimpered as he edged forward, pressing her back into the rough brick as his chest grazed hers. Despite her heels, he still towered over her, a testament to male strength. Dipping his head, he kissed her collarbone, snaking his lips and tongue up her neck until he nipped the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  “Tate!”

  “Yes?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Kissing you.”

  “We’re in a parking lot.”

  “I know.”

  “So let’s go. I’ve caused enough of a scene already.”

  Tate grumbled but stepped back, lifting her hand up to his lips. He kissed her knuckles and smiled. “I thought you liked me being in control?”

  “I do. But not when you’re being reckless. Take me home and I’m yours. Any way you want me.”

  Tate’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  He escorted her to his car and opened her door before walking around to get in. Excitement and nerves all flitted inside Jessica, turning her heart into a hummingbird. Did he really mean it? Was he done fighting their attraction? Tate slid into the driver’s seat and revved the engine, backing out of the space and turning onto the street.

  A few miles and she would find out. If she could remember to breathe.

  4

  Tate unlocked the door to his place and ushered Jessica inside. She’d dreamt about this moment—hell, she’d given herself an orgasm next to his bed. Why was she so skittish?

  The door shut behind her and she jumped.

  “Nervous, much?” Tate slipped his arms around her and spun her to face him. “If you don’t want—”

  She silenced him with a finger on his lips. “It’s not that. It’s just…I can’t stop thinking about what you said before. Is it really that wrong to be together?”

  “Honestly?” He pulled back and mashed his palm into his face, bowing his head as he rubbed his temples. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t…”

  “No. Jess, I don’t care. So what if people talk. Or our parents freak out? You’re right. We aren’t related. Not really.”

  “But you left…you walked out on me.”

  “I know. And I was stupid. I walked in and you were there, in my room, blindfolded and beautiful. Everything I’ve ever wanted. And I panicked.”

  “That makes two of us. When you caught me, I thought you’d throw me out. I’ve never been more embarrassed. I’m sorry I went through your things.”

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you did. If you hadn’t—if I hadn’t seen how much you wanted it—I wouldn’t be doing this.”

  He stepped forward and wrapped her up in his arms, bending to kiss her neck. Jessica sighed and let the nagging worry go. She could regret it all in the morning, but she needed him in every dirty, wicked way she could get.

  “If you don’t want something, tell me to stop and I will.”

  Jessica nodded, afraid her voice would quiver and give away her nerves. Despite the longing that throbbed inside her, part of her was scared as hell. Would she freak out and change her mind? Realize her cravings weren’t meant for real life? She didn’t know. But she wanted to find out. With Tate.

  He led her into his bedroom, stopping on the far side of his bed. Running his hands up her sides, he slinked her dress up, exposing her nude thong and matching bra. “All night I’ve wondered if you had anything on under that dress. It drove me mad, you know.”

  Pulling it off, he tossed the dress on his chair and turned back to her, kneeling in front of her to open his drawer. His fingers flitted over cuffs and ropes and other restraints, pausing on a set of black silk cords thicker than a jump rope. He pulled them out and set them on the bed.

  Jessica bit her lip as she watched, trying not to gasp as he made his decisions. She couldn’t wait to feel the coiled fibers wrap around her body, cinching tight and rendering her helpless. Her pussy ached and a pool of wetness spread across her panties. Damn. The anticipation was killing her.

  “Tell me, Jess. How far down this road have you gone before?”

  She swallowed and managed a small smile. “Not very. I’ve never found anyone who’s really been into it. The few guys I’ve mentioned it to have kinda freaked out. One…” She paused, embarrassed to be talking about other men with Tate.

  “One what?”

  “Tried to do what I wanted. He used a tie and, um, tied my wrists. But he was so afraid he’d bruise me and ruin the shoot—we’d met at a week-long swimwear gig—it didn’t work out. He left before it got very far.”

  “I see. So we’ll go easy, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Tate pulled the blindfold out of the drawer and stood up. He smiled as he brought it up to Jessica’s face, unfurling the black satin to its full length and slipping it over her head. The world went black and Jessica sucked in a breath of air.

  Her heart thumped in her chest and her blood whooshed through her veins, echoing around inside her ears. She couldn’t see what Tate was doing, but she could listen and feel. He stepped away from her and the metallic tang of his belt and rough scrape of his jeans told her he was undressing.

  A few beats later and his hands touched her thighs. She jumped at the contact and he chuckled. “Relax, Jess. I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  Tate hooked his thumbs inside her panties and slipped them off. They fell in a heap on top of her heels and before she could step out of them, he was there, crouched beneath her and lifting her feet out of her shoes.

  Then his hands were back, traveling higher and higher, up her thighs, over her hips and behind her back to her bra. A flick of his fingers and her bra unclasped. He slid it off and she was naked. Naked and blindfolded and unable to see his reaction. It was empowering.

  She made her living being poked and prodded and stared at. Cameras click-clicking all day while make-up artists critiqued her face and photographers critiqued her body. But now, in the silence of Tate’s bedroom, she had no idea whether her belly was flat or her butt dimpled.

  “You are so fucking beautiful, Jessica. I don’t deserve you.”

  She smiled a mile wide. “Yes you do.”

  He stepped behind her and took ahold of her arms, pulling them behind her back and clasping them together. The cord slipped around her wrists and he knotted it, tight enough to sting, but not hurt. Then he tied another knot a few inches higher. And then another. With every knot and caress of his fingers, her arousal grew.

  She squirmed, pressing her thighs together as wetness spread over her swollen lips. By the time Tate finished, he’d trussed her arms together and she couldn’t move them at all. He kissed her bare shoulder and
she sighed.

  “Climb up on the bed, babe.” He turned her body toward the bed and helped her get on. “Good. Now sit right on the edge. That’s it.”

  She scooted right to the edge and Tate took her knees, spreading them wider and wider, pushing her legs taut and parting her slick folds. With one hand on her ankle, Tate tied another cord around it, cinching tight and looping through something behind her leg. He did the same with her other leg.

  When he finished, she tried to move, but couldn’t. Her legs were fastened to the bed, spread eagle. Her entire world was his for the taking. Any way he wanted to.

  “You’re so wet already. Your pussy is begging to be filled with cock. Is that what you want?”

  Jessica whimpered. She didn’t care what he did as long as he did something. Anything.

  “Hmm. I don’t think so, I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

  She heard movement and bit her lip to keep from begging. When his lips brushed across her knee, she cried out, unable to hold back anymore.

  He trailed his kisses higher, each one ripping a tortured moan from her lips. She struggled in the bindings, pulling on her arms and legs, frantic for more.

  “Tate, please. I can’t take it.”

  “I thought you wanted me in control?”

  “I do, but…”

  “Then stop fighting it, Jess. Let me lead. You’ll come so hard you’ll cry.”

  She bit back a groan and he resumed his teasing, adding a lick of his tongue across her taut tendon. Her whole body shivered and as he planted kisses above her dripping slit, a wave of pleasure knocked the breath out of her.

  He took advantage, slinking lower and thrusting his tongue inside her without warning, pumping in and out and fueling her desire. She’d never been so high so fast. So close to an orgasm without a single flick against her clit.

  His tongue caressed and lapped and his breath blew hot over her folds. Oh, god. Without sight or freedom of movement, all she could do was feel. Being bound forced her to let go of the worry and anxiety of performing. No more ‘Am I doing it right? Does he like this? Does he want that?’ Just enjoyment. Pure, unadulterated enjoyment.