by Avril Ashton
Myka padded out of the bedroom on bare feet and leaned a shoulder against the arch separating the living room from the kitchen. The man sent to kill her stood in the middle of the kitchen, his back to her, testing slabs of meat on a tiny grill set on the countertop. Reggae artist Jah Cure chanted Sticky while Justice flipped the steak from one side to the other. A cigar sat in a round ashtray off to the side, thin swirls of smoke drifting from its lit end.
He liked his cigars. She'd never given them much thought, but she liked the smell. Especially when clinging to Justice's skin, mixed with his sweaty musk. The muscles in his back and wide shoulders flexed when he moved. He wore a tight black t-shirt stretched over bulging hardness. He'd removed the belt from the waist of his dark jeans and they sagged a little, exposing a brief flash of skin on his hip to her gaze.
Hmm. To put her lips there. Lick, bite.
"You're just going to stand there undressing me with your eyes?"
She jerked her head up. His attention was still on the grill. “How'd you know—"
"I can feel you, Myka.” He looked over his shoulder. “C'mere."
She approached him cautiously, aware of her naked thighs available for his scrutiny. When she was side by side with him at the counter, he nodded at the grill.
"I didn't know how you wanted it so I chose medium well.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Okay?"
"That's fine.” She smiled up into his eyes. Well-done was her preference, but medium would do. Waving a hand in front of her, she asked, “What else is there?"
He speared the meat with a tong and transferred them to the plates that already held corn-on-the-cob and broccoli at his elbow. “Check the oven."
She slipped on the mitts she bought and pulled the hot oven door open. The man made baked potatoes. Biting her lip to hide a grin, she took the tray out of the oven and laid it on the counter.
"Here, let me.” Justice scooped up the hot potatoes without a wince and dropped them on the plates. “Come, let's go into the living room.” He picked up their plates and headed out of the kitchen. “Grab the wine,” he said over his shoulder.
Myka trudged after him with a tight grip on the bottle of red and a wide smile on her face. For food?
They sat side by side on the couch, reggae music in the background, a muted baseball game on the TV. Myka moaned around the food in her mouth. Damn, killer could burn a fucking steak.
"Good?” He met her eyes and chewed slowly.
"Fuck yeah,” she spoke with her mouth full.
Justice chuckled. “Glad you like it.” He picked up the wine at his feet, sipped straight from the bottle, then handed it to her. She took it, followed suit.
"Where'd you learn to cook?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I live by myself so I had to learn or else I'd starve. It's mostly trial and error."
"Where?"
"Hmm?” He looked up from his plate.
"Where do you live?’ She forked some potato into her mouth, waiting for his reply.
"I'm based in Seattle, but I have houses and apartments all over.” He bent over, placing his empty plate on the floor beside the couch.
"What about family?” She was prying, but Myka wanted to know him. This man who looked like a cover model, fucked like a porn star and killed people for money. Did he have a family? A mother and father who worried about him, disapproved of his life choices?
Justice sat back and cleared his throat. He remained silent for so long, she didn't think he'd ever answer her question. She put her empty plate down, opened her mouth to apologize if she overstepped.
"My family was killed when I was twelve.” His accented voice was even, as if he read from a script. “That's why I do what I do now—I got into this business to avenge them. And me."
"Why you?” Myka leaned against the arm of the couch and swung her legs up under her.
Justice stared at the TV, a faraway expression on his chiseled face. “Because even though the bullets didn't kill me, my innocence died that day."
Myka's breath seized, her fingers dug into the cushions. “You were there?"
He nodded, a mechanical jerk. “Yes, along with my father and my pregnant mother. I thought we'd all died, until I woke up in a hospital."
Her heart broke for that twelve-year-old, all alone, in both physical and emotional pain. She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “Why?” she whispered.
He turned in slow motion to look at her, dark eyes glistening. “Why what?"
"Why would you choose to do this? Immerse yourself in a life of violence, like the same that brought you so much pain? Can you do to another twelve-year-old what was done to you?” She couldn't make sense of it.
Justice jackknifed off the couch and hovered over her. “I don't kill innocents, nor do I kill children.” His words were tight, the tendons in his neck bulged as he glared down at her.
She met his gaze, held it. “So you don't hurt them physically, what about emotionally? Isn't that more damaging?” He opened his mouth, but she forged ahead, tried to open his eyes. “No, I'm not asking grown Justice, I'm asking that twelve-year-old boy with a bullet in him.” Didn't he see the pattern he'd created, the web he'd gotten caught in?
He blinked, then froze like a life-sized ice sculpture. The only flicker of emotion came from his midnight eyes. Agony. There one second, gone the next.
Myka rose to a sitting position and grabbed his arm. “Justice, baby, I'm not trying to hurt you,” she pleaded. “I want you to see the flaws here. If I can see it, why can't you?"
He wrenched away from her, tried to walk off, but she hooked her fingers in the loops of his jeans.
"Don't play with me, Myka,” he grated. A harsh scowl turned his already hard features into a fierce portrait.
Fear crept along her skin, not of him, but fear that she'd pushed him too far. Away from her, from them. She shook off the doubt. The truth always hurt, but she preferred it to lies. No way would she lie to him, or tell him anything to placate him.
"Is this what you do?” She got to her feet. “Walk away? Turn your back when you don't want to hear the truth?"
"Drop it, Myka.” He tugged on her hold, but she held on.
"No.” The stubborn streak she'd inherited from her father reared up. “I'm not going to bite my tongue for fear of offending you so get used to it.” She stared into his thunderous gaze with a tilt of her chin.
Justice grabbed her by the throat and yanked her to him. His mouth captured hers in a rough, punishing kiss. Her breath escaped on a gasp, he swallowed it. Her nipples poked into the unrelenting wall of his chest as she parted her lips, allowing him inside. She gave willingly what he sought to take. He had to know he only had to look at her with those bottomless eyes and she melted.
Myka released his belt loop and cupped the back of his head with a moan. At her touch, he broke the kiss and pushed at her shoulders. She floundered and fell back, splayed out, on the couch.
"You know everything, don't you?” His chest rose and fell with every snarled word.
Myka's pussy quaked in anticipation. Liquid heat poured from her, soaking the crotch of her panties. She stared as he pulled off his t-shirt. Those fucking muscles. She moaned.
"You have three seconds to get rid of the top and those fucking panties before I tear them off you."
Oh, God. Hands shaking, pussy purring under his aggression, she shucked the t-shirt and kicked off the panties with a second to spare.
Justice unbuttoned his jeans, but left them zipped. “Care to guess what's about to happen next?” He dropped to his knees between her spread thighs.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. She bit her lower lip, drew blood. He flattened both his palms on the insides of her thighs, caressing her tenderly despite the wildness in his eyes.
"Wider,” he murmured, “I want them wider."
Myka obliged, draping one leg over the arm of the couch and the other onto his shoulder. Justice pressed a kiss to her calf, sending sparks of electricity to her sp
ine. Her hips rolled, a moan escaped.
Leaning forward, Justice buried his face in her pussy and inhaled. She palmed his head.
"I can smell your arousal,” he whispered against her skin. His warm breath burned her already heated clit. “So fragrant, Myka. So mine."
"Yes.” Her voice shook. “Yours.” She was falling apart, melting under his heated touch like chocolate on hot asphalt.
He tweaked her swollen clit with a finger.
Myka gasped, shuddered.
"You've got me here, Myka, on my knees."
He looked up, searing her with his fiery gaze. A finger remained pressed to her clit. She grounded against it.
"What do you want me to do? Fuck you with my cock, my fingers? My tongue?"
Scalding heat eased out of her clenched core and dripped on the couch. “Everything.” The word stuck in her throat. She swallowed, tried again. “I want it all, Justice, don't hold back."
His mouth settled over her clit, sucking at the aching nub. Two fingers dove into her pussy, stretching her. Myka cried out at the burn, so fucking sweet. He scissored the fingers inside her, scraping her walls. She arched her back, pushing herself onto his face. Her nails dug into his scalp.
"God, Justice. Oh, God.” Something sharp scraped her clit and pinpricks of lightning flashed through her, dimming her eyesight, tuning out sound. Teeth. It hurt, yet the pleasure was indescribable. Myka pressed tighter, closer, fucking his face as he used his fingers and mouth to destroy her.
Justice released her throbbing nubbin and flattened his tongue down the center of her, all the way to her ass. He eased his soaked fingers out of her cunt, his tongue quickly filling her neglected hole. The slippery fingers were now pressing into the clenched tightness of her ass.
Myka squirmed. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down. Two fingers slipped in with a pop and a delicious afterburn. Her hips rolled as she tried to hump Justice's face and ride the fingers in her ass at the same time. Moisture from her cunt dripped below, lubricating the digits, making it easier for them to slide in and out.
She was stuffed. Myka threw her head back, clenching her muscles on the tongue licking the cream out her pussy and the fingers thrusting in and out of her ass.
Justice growled and buried his face deeper, sliding his tongue deeper. Wet noises filled the room, mixing with his heavy breathing and her whimpers. The two digits in her rear pulled a wail from her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, marking him the way she knew he liked. The way only she could.
"Justice, please. Please.” Salt melted on her tongue. Tears. She wasn't even aware she cried. “Justice..."
He hummed. Nose pushed against her clit, tongue buried deep inside her clenching cunt, he hummed. She screamed—legs kicked out as her body convulsed. Her body writhed under the climax, tried to shake Justice off, but he stayed latched on, mouth on her weeping core, fingers still thrusting.
Quivering, sobbing his name, she beat at his shoulders. Begged him to let her go. He ignored her cries, continued slurping, thrusting, taking more than she intended to give.
* * * *
Justice didn't want to move. Myka's cries spurred him on. The leg she'd draped over his shoulder trembled violently, her sharp nails dug into his scalp and shoulders. Her hardened clit pulsed while her delicious juices melted on his tongue and trickled down his throat. Painful contractions in her ass nearly broke his fingers, but he couldn't care. His face was drenched with Myka's juices, but he fought to get closer. He wanted to bathe in her.
"Oh, God. Justice.” She tried to shift away from his hungry mouth, but there was nowhere to go. “No more, please."
He lifted his head, kept his fingers buried its tight cocoon. Her brown eyes had darkened to almost black, the pupils dilated. Tears stained her cheeks and her lips were parted.
"You want me to stop, Myka?” he growled. At least that's what he meant to say, but the contoured muscles in her ass squeezed his fingers and he jerked, making the words sound garbled to his ears.
"No, don't stop.” She lifted her hips. “I want you, Justice. I need you inside me."
His neglected cock wept in response. He wanted to bury himself in her snug cunt, but he was loath to stop licking up the drops of her cream. It was like he'd become hooked, addicted to her sticky, sweet juices.
With a twinge of regret, he eased his fingers out of her ass. She lifted her lower half up off the couch, body shaking, moans echoing around the room. He grabbed her ankles, yanking her closer to the edge of the couch. Full tits bounced, their nipples erect, as she grunted and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Justice fumbled with his zipper and freed his swollen cock. He held himself with one hand, brushed a thumb over the slippery slit and guided his erection to her ready opening. Her fingers gripped the cushions, her eyes watching with rapt attention as he bumped her clit. She inhaled sharply, body shivered.
Her heat seared him, reminded him he wasn't using protection. Justice stilled. “Condoms, Myka, we need condoms.” His voice shook with urgency, red-hot need swirled at the base of his spine, making his body tremble.
"No.” She scooted closer, rubbed her wet slit against him. “Like this,” she murmured. “I need you like this."
Fucking mercy! He shook his head as her hips swiveled and her pussy threatened to swallow him whole. “We can't,” he panted. His mushroomed head dipped into her sheath, making his eyes roll back in his head.
"I'm on the pill, Justice.” Reaching down, she covered his hand with hers. “Please, let me feel you.” Her body bore down and his cock slid inside her on a smooth thrust. Her doing? His? Her tight muscles, silky soft, contracted around him and he lost the ability to think.
"Fuck!” He bucked, ground his pelvis on her clit. Blood roared through his veins and pounded in his ears. Myka lifted her body, undulated. Waves of heat bathed his aching cock, reminded him of Fiji in August. Through hazy eyes, he watched her body arch and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. He leaned down, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted, bringing her up to his chest.
His cock wedged deeper and she gasped, grabbing his neck. Her nipples poked into his chest and Justice fisted her hair, pulled. Eyelids fluttered, pussy contracted and they both moaned. Myka's moist lips parted and he swooped down, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Teeth clinked as their tongues dueled, each fighting for dominance, neither willing to give up control.
One arm around her waist, the other in her hair, Justice reversed positions until he was on the couch and Myka sat astride him. He broke the kiss. “Ride me.” Tilting her head back, he dragged his teeth down the column of her neck. She gasped, back arched. The hands on his shoulders scraped his skin. Her core pulsed in waves around his cock.
Head thrown back, she rocked on him. Justice gripped her hips, urged her on as heat spread across his lower back and crept to his heavy balls. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the woman in his arms wedging her way under his skin. Her sexy musk mixed with the carnal scent of sex, hardening him even more. With a lift of his hips, he thrust up into her.
"Oh, fuck,” she moaned. “Keep it right there, right there.” Her movements became more hurried, pussy got ever more wet, even more snug. He lifted her off, then slammed her down.
She cried out. He pinched a nipple, sucked the other into his mouth. Tiny contractions massaged his cock, made him recite the alphabet backward to stave off the orgasm intent on roaring in. Nails bit into his shoulder, broke his skin. Justice shuddered.
Memories of other women, other times fell away. Myka was wiping his slate clean, making it like the first time. Making her the only one. He buried his face between her breasts, inhaled her scent as he thrust up. Trembling arms cradled his head as she rode him. Justice reached behind her, grabbed the plump flesh of her ass and squeezed.
"I'll be fucking you here next,” he whispered, trailing a thumb down her crack. Myka froze, but her pussy spasmed rapidly. “I'll be sliding up in here.” He pressed the puckered hole, felt it clench. His cock
jerked in her heated core's strangle hold.
Her hips rolled faster as she panted in his ear. Justice took her mouth, kissed her deep as he pinched her clit. She bucked, pussy walls sucking him deeper. Juices dripped from her onto his bare thighs. The roaring in his ears drowned out the sound of her ass slapping against him. Justice grabbed her waist, tried to hold her still as he pistoned up into her.
Myka wiggled on him, sending waves of heat straight to his balls. Justice slammed up, she bore down. His cock head bumped a ridge at the center of her and she cried out. Convulsed. Painful contractions hit him, dragged him into the swirling red of his climax. He clamped down on her hips with both hands as he roared and poured himself, all he had, inside her.
Their tongues slid over and around each other as her nails dug into his shoulders and their bodies shook. The force of her contractions slowed to a soft massage on his spent cock. His hands slid over wet skin when he caressed her back.
"Shit,” Myka murmured against his lips, “I need a cigarette."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Ten
* * * *
Justice chuckled and tightened his arms around her. “Will a Cuban cigar do?"
Myka leaned back, looking into his heavy-lidded eyes. “What's with you and those cigars anyway?"
"I like them.” He grinned. “I did a job in Cuba and smuggled them out."
"Seriously?"
"Well, it didn't make sense to go there and not leave with something.” He shrugged. “Besides, my friends bet me I couldn't."
Friends? “Wait, hold up.” She squinted up at him. “You have friends?” Wasn't it written somewhere in the hitmen handbook that they be loners?
"Hey.” He managed to look offended with his semi-hard cock still nestled inside her. “Yes, I have some people in my life who I consider...friends."
"I'm glad.” She stroked his jaw line.
"You're glad.” Justice pressed his lip to her fingers. “Why is that?"
Myka wiggled and traced the line of his mouth with her fingertip. “I don't want you to be alone.” Emotion clogged her throat, thickened her words. “I don't want to picture you out there in the world all by yourself."
