by Sam Crescent
Lance moved to sit in front of her. Taking her drink from her hands, he lifted her face to meet his. “Cyril had his means. He would’ve found out eventually. There’s no shame in being a survivor.” Lance hated himself for lying but he didn’t have the heart to tell her he was responsible—the cause of her death his recklessness. She’d warned him about getting caught and she’d paid the price.
He did something he’d been wanting to do since he’d seen her at the hotel. He leant down and kissed her. She didn’t stir at first, staying still beneath his lips, but after her hesitation, her lips moved and she wrapped her hands around his neck. She moaned and settled into his touch. Lance deepened the kiss, tilting her head back and thrusting his tongue between her lips. Her moans and taste were filling every one of his senses.
He couldn’t stop. His dick was throbbing and her response firing in his blood.
Lance pulled the hem of her jumper up and over her head, waiting a few seconds to see if she would refuse him. Catherine tugged on his clothing and moved it out of the way. They became animalistic in their quest for nakedness.
They tore at their trousers and underwear and in no time at all Catherine was shuddering under him, their kisses hot, filled with lust.
“Are you sure?” he asked, trying to remain the gentleman he’d once been, even though all he wanted to do was push her back, spread her legs and fuck her senseless.
“Fuck me, Lance,” she whispered next to his ear.
Her legs opened wide and he didn’t even bother with a condom. He wanted to keep her and, if making her pregnant made her his, he was prepared to do it.
He kissed her while he sought her heat with his fingers—he wanted her good and wet before he tried to shove his cock in her. Larger than the average man, Lance always took care to prepare his partner to receive him.
Her slit was already soaking wet and he could feel the tiny flutters of her pussy near her entrance. Moaning, he edged between her thighs, careful not to break contact with her lips. Using his free hand not supporting him on the floor, he grasped his stiff cock and ran the tip up and down, past her clit and to her entrance, coating himself with her juice.
Once he was slick, he pushed the mushroom tip into her entrance and drove all the way inside, up to the hilt.
Catherine moaned, meeting every stroke and touch, her hips pushing up to meet his. Lance stayed still, letting her grow accustomed to his touch.
“You feel amazing,” he whispered after he pulled away from her lips.
“You’re big.”
Lance chuckled—he could live with that. “Do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” Her arms circled his neck, bringing him down for more kisses. Her breasts brushed his chest and she held him to her. Their hips and pelvises thrusting to meet, they moved together through the rush of lust. Lance pressed a hand between their bodies and fingered her clit. He wanted to bring her off before he found release within her body.
“Harder, faster,” she cried out, arching to his touch.
He felt the ripples of her pussy around his cock as well as the build-up of her juices as she grew closer and closer to her orgasm. Lance slowed his pace. He wanted to feel her coming around him. It wasn’t long before she flung her head back, going over the edge and screaming out her release.
Lance fucked her harder, faster until with one final thrust he growled, pulsing in her body.
Their fucking had been fast, furious and worth every second together. They collapsed on the floor gasping for breath.
“Wow, you’re amazing,” Catherine panted.
“Ditto.”
Chapter Nine
Catherine lay stroking her hand through his thick hair, his cock still inside her. She was dizzy with the relief of finally knowing it was only a matter of hours before Cyril could be stopped and no other girl would have to face what she’d faced.
“I’m too big,” Lance apologised, moving off her.
She reached out to stop him. “I like you there.” He slipped out of her and she mourned the loss of him.
“I’m taking you to bed. I’m not done loving every inch of this body.”
Catherine giggled. “When my ankle is better, I’ll show you a thing or two,” she warned him, nibbling his ear.
Lance groaned, and Catherine loved the sound of him losing control.
“I want to love you tonight,” Lance whispered in her ear.
Catherine was more than happy to oblige. Cheap hotel or not, this could be the last night of their lives and she couldn’t think of a better way of spending her time than being with him.
Lance laid her on the bed, touching every inch of her body. She moved her leg to the side, as far away as possible so he wouldn’t be worried about hurting her.
“Kiss me,” she begged, pulling on his hair.
His lips sealed over hers and she thrust her tongue inside, her hand went to his, getting him to curve it round her breast. She moaned and gave him everything, reaching between them with her free hand to grasp his hardening shaft, still wet from their combined juices. She didn’t care, her pussy already on fire again. She wanted…needed to be fucked, and hard. To take away all the hurt and pain and bring a semblance of normality to her chaotic life.
“Please, more,” she gasped when he trailed his lips down her neck, across her collarbone then embraced an erect nipple. She cried out as his teeth scissored her sensitive bud. Not bothering to wait for him, she fingered her clit, stroking the pearl of sensation. Lance tapped her hand away and replaced it with his own finger only for a second before he moved down and his tongue flicked her clit.
Catherine lay back, piling the pillows under her head and watched him sucking her between her thighs. She curled her fingers into the blanket to try to keep from closing her eyes, but all too soon she could feel the peak building.
Lance pressed three fingers inside her pussy as he tongued her clit. She felt full, the pleasure bordering on pain, but his tongue made her cry out in rapture. She pushed down on his hand as she tried to get him to suck her harder into his mouth. Lance wouldn’t give in and forced her to take what he gave her. He constantly brought her to the edge, closer and closer, until it was no use resisting.
Screaming out her climax, she shoved down on his face and gave herself over to the most amazing release of her life, curling her hand in his hair and pressing her clit against his tongue.
Without giving her time to come down, Lance thrust his huge girth inside her still pulsating pussy.
Catherine wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him, tasting her juices off his lips and tongue. She wanted to be fucked and loved. They moved franticly in their search for release. At some point, he went to grab her leg with the bad ankle, but remembered and stopped, instead going for her hands and pinning them above her head while his thrusts increased, slamming inside her. She could already feel the building of another climax and she begged him to send her into oblivion. She came on a wave as Lance plunged inside her one final time and cried out—his male, guttural groan very satisfying to hear. He collapsed to the side and Catherine allowed her eyes to drift closed, not caring how hot and sticky she was.
After so long, she could finally rest and allow sleep to consume her.
* * * *
Ben waited by the hotel room’s phone, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. His nose wasn’t broken but it throbbed like a son of a bitch. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed, but he hadn’t known what else to do. After receiving the worst kind of information a man could possibly receive, he was now desperate to get Cyril Woods six feet under, and anybody who stood in his way should be warned to stay well clear of the man.
Earlier he’d sent a text message to a private number and got a reply, telling him to be alone in the room in one hour. He looked at his watch. Fifty-eight minutes had passed since the text and now his impatience was back with full force.
He didn’t have fucking time to waste.
Going over to the sports bag
, he opened it up to check on his weapons. A few automatic guns, a couple of Glocks and other types of weaponry. He pulled out his hunting knife, enjoying the feel of it in his hand.
This wasn’t the man he should be. He’d become a man hell bent on revenge and look at him—a pitiful excuse of existence who ruined women and shattered lives, shaking his head against each disaster, the bitter memory of the pain he’d caused and inflicted over the years.
The ringing of the telephone pulled him out of his remorse.
“Fuckwit here.”
“What the fuck was the text for? I’ve got shit up to my arse to do to try to make this work, and you tell me ‘tomorrow’?” the voice on the other end yelled.
Ben knew the man but knew better than to use his real name.
“I’ve got information—use it or fuck it. But, one way or the other, Cyril Woods will end tomorrow.” Ben gave him the location of where they were staying, even knowing it was a risk in case other people were listening in.
They ended the call and Ben slammed the phone down. For too long he’d been taking orders. Once Cyril was done and finished, he was going to end it. No more hunting, no more missions. Taking life as an ordinary type of man with a nine-to-five job.
Picking up the phone, he dialled her number.
“Hello.”
Ben closed his eyes, her sweet voice ringing in his mind.
“Hello?” she said again and he knew he could sit here all night listening to her talk.
“Tomorrow… Be out of town and get away. I don’t want you in the crossfire.”
“Ben? What the fuck?”
“Stop swearing. It doesn’t suit you. Please, Beth… This once, listen to me and get out of there. Cyril will come after you regardless of you being his daughter.”
He disconnected the call, hoping in his heart she’d listen to him. He grabbed the phone, yanked out the cord and threw it against the wall. Looking into the mirror by the dresser, he wondered if he could be the man Beth needed. The woman deserved more. But if he survived tomorrow, he was going to go and finally claim her as his.
* * * *
Lance woke up to the sun shining through the thin curtain, a quick glance at the alarm clock on the side of the bed warning him it was already seven. Catherine lay asleep in his arms, her leg still turned away, the sheet placed round all of her delicate bits. He didn’t want her to be covered. He wanted to see her, touch and taste her.
Lance pulled the cover away from her in order to see her, legs splayed and her breasts high and flush. He skimmed his hands down her body, committing each dip and curve to memory.
“We don’t have time for this,” she moaned, waking up.
“I’ll just be a few minutes.”
Catherine laughed. “A few minutes? That doesn’t put you in a good light. I mean, if it only takes you a few minutes…”
His fingers dipped into her wet heat and she arched up.
They both paused when Ben appeared near the window, knocking on their door.
“Come on, you two… Long drive today.”
“He has really bad timing,” Lance growled, removing his fingers.
“I did warn you,” she said, chuckling.
They dressed together, Lance helping her to change and balance with the crutches.
“I can’t wait until I do this on my own,” she confessed.
“Well, until that time I’ll be happy to give you a hand or two.” He cupped her ass and squeezed the plump flesh before moving up her neck to kiss her lips.
Catherine wrapped her hands round his neck and ground her pelvis against his throbbing erection.
“Time to party,” Ben said.
For too long he’d been stuck in his life with no satisfaction, simply living. With Catherine… She held the promise of a better life, a life he was now looking forward to experiencing. They grabbed their bags and moved to the car, where Ben waited behind the wheel. Lance helped Catherine into the back seat then climbed in the front.
“Are we ready for this?” Ben asked and Catherine nodded at him.
She gave him the location of an abandoned warehouse in the country outside of London. The area was known for druggies, kids screwing around…nothing of major importance.
“Are you serious?” Ben asked, turning in his seat to look at her.
“What better place to store your crap than a warehouse where everyone thinks nothing happens? No one goes near it and no one dares enter. Cyril is smart but his biggest mistake was taking Sidney there.” Catherine smirked and gestured for Ben to drive.
Lance couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face. He knew at some point he’d have to tell her about his involvement with Cyril and Sidney but right now he could bask in the fullness of her smile. They rode in silence, Catherine staring out of the window, and Lance gazed at her in the mirror on the passenger flap.
His thoughts went back to his last meeting with Sidney.
“I’m telling you, it’s too soon. Cyril suspects something already,” she argued with him in his penthouse suite.
“I’ve told you—she’s safe. Do as I say and get the information. He loves you,” he told her, not caring about her sister in the slightest.
Catherine hadn’t even been a blip on his radar. His only intention then had been to bring Cyril to his knees while he sliced through his throat with the knife the man had used to kill his sister.
“You’ve got the documents we need?”
“Lance, I told you—he only just started trusting me. I’ll get you what you need…just give me some time.”
“The more time you take, the more danger Catherine is in. Do you want that? Huh?”
Lance had blatantly used Catherine against her sister, determined to get what he wanted and not caring how he got it.
That day had been the last time he’d seen her, and three days later he’d been told she was dead. An informant on the inside had been determined to bring her down…and now this.
He glanced in the back, wondering if there would be a way of keeping the information from her. His heart beat rapidly at the thought of her walking out and leaving him. Lance couldn’t bear to be without her…
Holy shit, it wasn’t possible… No—never in the whole of his life had he fallen for a woman. But Catherine Hart had somehow worked her way under his skin and into his heart.
Lance coughed and turned away from the mirror—any concern for his own life suddenly meaningless against the wave of panic at the danger surrounding Catherine.
“What happens when we get Cyril?” Catherine asked.
“Where is the evidence you need?” Ben averted, answering with another question.
“You know the woods outside the warehouse about a mile away?”
“Yes.”
“Stop there first and I’ll show you.”
“Get the evidence and then I’ll tell you what happens with Cyril.”
Lance listened to their conversation with half an ear. He would love to think it was going to go down easy, everything fine, but his gut told him otherwise. Whenever he was preparing for a mission that wouldn’t have the outcome he expected, his gut tightened and the hair stood on the back of his neck—his sixth sense kicking in, he imagined. Most of the men had laughed and mocked his negative attitude, but afterwards they’d looked at him differently.
Getting back to London took most of the day and they needed to pass through to get back out of the other side. The risk increased with every mile they travelled. At any time Cyril could be notified of their presence.
Lance grabbed the gun resting under his seat in order to keep it settled at his side…just in case. Catherine looked all around to watch for anything out of the ordinary, and Ben kept his eyes on the road.
They made it through the city without any problem and were going at a decent speed to the warehouse when the woods came into view, along with their final destination. The building was decaying and large.
“How could that house anything?” Lance asked.
> Catherine shrugged. “Don’t know how, I just know it does.”
They stopped the car in the woods. Lance helped Catherine out and handed her the crutches.
“Time to go digging,” she said and led them not far into the woods.
At about fifty feet in, she checked a few trees then looked on the ground. Lance and Ben watched her do this with about ten different trees when she finally dropped to her knees and, using her hands, pulled away the loose dirt. The two men got down and helped her drag the mud back.
After about twenty minutes, the men knelt back, panting and dirty.
“You’ve got to have the wrong place,” Ben told her.
Catherine kept digging and finally yanked out a wooden box. “How were you able to get it out?” Lance asked her.
“We didn’t pack all the soil around it—we knew we could be here on our knees in desperation. Cardboard didn’t work and we thought that metal would rust but treated wood would last. There… Everything that will put Cyril away for life.”
Catherine handed the box over to Ben and he opened it up. Inside lay plastic-wrapped pictures and disks, everything organised unlike anything he’d ever seen.
“How did you get this?”
“That I’m not telling.” Catherine grabbed her crutches and got to her feet.
Cyril came through the woods to their right, clucking his tongue. “So this is where you and Sidney hid all that crap about me.”
Lance tried to react and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun while Ben was wrestled to the ground.
Catherine struggled, trying to break free from the man holding her. “I don’t think so, lady.” He pushed her crutches away and Lance watched as Catherine was forced to move to balance, putting pressure on her bad ankle. Her scream echoed through the woods and it took every part of him not to react. It would do none of them any good if he got a bullet through his brain. Cursing his predicament, he finally got to see the man who’d destroyed many lives.
