To Love A Hitman

by Randell Mccreary

  I wonder if I'm really gay or not at this point, or just interested in him and having his hands all over me. The fact I'm considering trying to make him cheat on his girlfriend, in the most unlikely scenario that he's into me as well is insane.

  Eventually, Jake says, “I didn't think you for a sweet tooth by your appearance, getting your cupcake every day. You look as if you'd want to drink the blood of innocents with your dark hair and green eyes.” He says it in a joking tone, though I'm glad he's been paying attention to me somewhat.

  “The cupcakes are really nice. I can't help myself,” I respond.

  Now he turns to face me, and I hope to hell he can't see my flushed cheeks, or see the slight stirring of an erection in my pants. “And you are a bad liar.” His voice dips low, growling.

  In complete surprise, I stare at him. He turns off the last machine, and approaches me across the linoleum floor. He seems to be filling up the tiny back with his presence, invading every notion of personal space I have with just a cold spark of his eyes, a wicked curl of his lips. It takes my breath away. My heart pulses faster, and I swear I actively feel my blood pressure change.

  “I know you're not here to taste that cupcake,” he purrs, “you're here to taste me.”

  He pulls me closer, and the blood surges through me, pumped by an impossibly fast beating heart. The next thing I know, he's kissing me, his mouth hard against my lips, his hands wrapped tight around my waist, pressing our hips together. Oh my.

  Oh, fucking hell. It feels so good. I groan against his lips as my impromptu fantasies all flare to life at the same moment, and all those times I got raging boners from what I imagined of him, wondered about him, anticipated what he might look like under that white shirt, or how big his dick might be. I sink into the kiss, abandoning my senses, until I slowly revive my mind and sanity enough to stutter, “B-but, what about your girlfriend?”

  He nips my bottom lip, before flicking his tongue over it sensually. Decadently. “Oh, that's for show. Who you see now is who I really am...” He bites my bottom lip again. “And what I am right now is hungry...”

  Oh fuck. I don't have any spine to resist him anymore. I don't want to, because I've been dreaming about this for over three weeks, since we first met. The dreams turn me on so much, but I know it'll never be as good as being with the subject of my fantasies. And I knew it was impossible – except now it's not. He wants me. He's kissing me. He's coming onto me. The arousal burns up my limbs, and I'm hard, super hard. I feel he's hard as well, because the bulge is noticeable. Guys have a harder time hiding their feelings, I think, and especially their lust, because it's all so visual, external.

  I've never had proper sex, but I'm certainly not having any erectile dysfunction in this incident. I'm not having any issues at all. He kisses me hard, and his tongue jabs into my mouth, before staying there and tangling with mine. I'm taking huffing, frantic breaths, shaking, and I try to claw off his clothes. He slaps my hand aside.

  “No. You're mine. I'll do to you exactly what I want, and you'll take it, like the good little ass fucker you are,” he growls harshly, which makes me shudder. That's brutal and delicious at the same time. I want him to keep talking to me like this, as if he's violating my thoughts, though really, I welcome every single syllable that slips out of his lips. I want to be fucked senseless. I shiver at the thought, because I know that at this rate, he will do it.

  I don't understand why he is, why he's planning to cheat on his girlfriend – the thought almost makes me stop, until he bites my neck and causes me to groan. I tilt my head, better exposing my neck, and gasp when he takes off my shirt, exposing my chest to him. It's not exactly the most toned chest in the world, but I do okay. Maybe I'm getting towards plump, but you only notice that when I sit down and flop forward. Other than that, I fit in average shirts well, though I could probably shed some of the extra pounds. Though I guess not everyone can have six packs.

  For a baker, though, Jake sure is rocking his body. When he pulls his shirt off, I catch a thinner, leaner slit of muscle than me. Being a baker, you'd expect him to be fat from eating all his foods, but it seems he prefers feeding other people with his pastries and cupcakes. He sucks hard at my neck and I groan. I feel his teeth dig there, and the flash of pain makes me shudder, and my knees go weak.

  He then plunges his hand down my pants without any build up, and seizes my hard dick there, starting to rub it, stroking it with an expertize that anyone would be proud of. I get harder, if that's possible, and clutch his shoulders tighter as he works at me, his fingers slick with the fluid bubbling out of my tip. I can't believe what's happening right now. It's intense, it's making my senses swim, and my thoughts slow as I drown, happily in the onslaught of pleasure hitting me. More. I want more. I gasp when he starts pulling down the rest of my clothes, leaving me stark naked, with my erection springing free. I was actually getting close to coming, just by him doing that, so now I hover at that precipice.

  He takes off his clothes, and for a moment, I'm drunk upon the sight of his body. He is gorgeous. His legs are thick and muscular, his cock is probably about average size, but it's so well shaped – far nicer looking than the one jutting out of me. I didn't even think you could get nice shaped dicks, but I guess it's true. People really do have some pretty ones.

  Jake forces me to my knees, and growls in my ear. “are you a virgin, Andrew? Have you ever felt someone's thirsty cock inside you?”

  I whimper. “I-I'm a virgin,” I stammer, thrilled by the way he's taking charge and devouring my senses.

  Obviously I'm not going to be a virgin for much longer, like this. My knees rest against the cold white floor, and now my palms, as he shoves me further forward. His hit palms run against my back, and clutch hard at my ass, hard enough to leave bruises there. He lets out a chuckle, and bites my ear, making me moan.

  Something cold and wet touches my ass. I try to twist my head to look, but he firmly grasps my scalp, forcing me to look forward. “Don't look,” he says. Commands, even. It's difficult, because I want to know what's happening to me, what he's doing to me. Is he using saliva? Lubricant? Something else? More cold is lathered onto my ass, and then I feel his finger poke up there, wet and strange. I gasp. I'm so tight there, and I feel him working at me, slowly widening the hole. One finger goes in, then two. Again, I feel myself close to coming, but I bite hard when he senses it as well, and pinches me on the ass to cause the pain to shrink my arousal.

  It doesn't work very well, because the pain heightens my senses further. Eventually, I feel his hard dick pushing against my entrance, forcing my ass to part way for him. He doesn't just ram it in, which is a relief, but he gives my body time to adjust to what's happening. I can't believe this is happening to me. I moan. I'm greedy for more, and I want him buried deep inside me, attacking me at my vulnerable parts. When he starts moving in earnest, the feeling is incredible. He scratches at my back, causing stings of pain which he then soothes over with his palms, making me tingle in delight.

  I know our sweet spot was supposed to be easy to access from behind, but I never realized just how powerful the sensation was. He drives himself into me, and within moments, I feel that hot swell in my balls, that burn all the way along my dick, and the promise of release, before my body expels fluid from me in a series of spurts, timed to each thrust Jake does to me. I let out a long, loud moan. My cheeks are on fire, my throat is constricted, and my blood can barely keep up with the speed of my heart. I feel dizzy, deprived of oxygen, and elated at the same time.

  I can't believe how hard I came. I've messed up their nice floor, and he's still going inside me, increasing his speed now, ramming into me with more force. I actually start sliding along the floor, and I groan again, barely able to stabilize myself. He then licks and sucks at my neck, his hands wrapping tight under my chest, resting on my shoulders, as he suddenly slows, does a few more thrusts, and I feel something hot and sticky enter my ass.

  He just came inside me. I kneel ther
e, shivering, unable to comprehend what just happened. But, before I've given enough time to rest, I feel him begin to stroke my back again, eager to experience more of me. I don't think I'm completely empty of fluid, but I know I need to wait at least a few minutes to recover, and he seems to be so thirsty for me. That realization digs deep into my soul, and already, I wish I didn't have to wait, so I can feel him fuck me senseless again, bite and scratch at me, and whisper how filthy I am.

  “I've been wanting to do that for a while,” he says, against my ear before nipping at it, then probing his tongue in the little gap underneath. “I wanted to hear you gasp and moan, to see your dick hard, to grasp it in my hand and watch as you explode. And I could see it in your eyes, too. You wanted me so bad. Hungrily following me...”

  He forces me to turn around, and presses his lips hard to mine. I have about enough time to catch a glimpse of him with lust filled eyes, dark rather than light this time, before his hot, wet breaths are on me. I feel his passion, his need in this touch, and I realize that with a jolt, that maybe he can't control himself, that somehow, the sight of me drives him crazy. It's a powerful feeling. And it certainly makes me eager to try out his cupcake as he breathed salaciously against my ear.

  I don't think I'll ever be able to look at those little treats the same way again. His chest is hot again my palms, and he squeezes me tightly to him.

  Then, almost regretfully, he pulls his face away, and shakes his head as if trying to pull himself out of the lust haze. I know I'm still sunk in it, as my thoughts are slowed, and my heart is unsure just exactly what pace it should be going at. It tried to drop down after my orgasm, but his kissing helped rev it up again, though my dick isn't quite as responsive as before. Just need to wait a few minutes. I'm sure I can go again. I want to go again.

  “Get dressed,” he says, after rubbing his face – the soft warmth in it dissolves into something cool and professional. “I should be finishing with the shop now.”

  I blink at his sudden, abrupt manner. He's gone from warm to cold. For a moment, I'm baffled, and a little hurt. Then I start tugging on my clothes, after he hands me a tissue to wipe away some of the mess I've made. My ass is still sticky from what he's done to me. Seeing the white fluid slip out is strange, knowing that he's been inside me, that he came inside me.

  I place on my clothes, my mood dimmed, hoping he's just being brusque because he might be late for something.

  “Don't mention this to anyone. I don't want anyone finding out.”

  He plans to hide it from his girlfriend. Of course he does.

  I'm basically kicked out of the bakery after he dismisses me, letting me out through the front door, and I leave in a state of confusion, wondering what I just got myself into.

  He just willingly cheated on his girlfriend with me. So who is at fault here? Him, for not being able to keep his lust in check? Or me, who wanted him to cheat with me, who wanted him to fuck me, to make me feel like a woman in some aspect, the one who endures it all and comes with something powerful and profound.

  I don't really know. We've both done something bad, I think. We both gave into carnal desire. Heading back to my flat, the memories of that encounter stay with me. They burn into my head, permanently branding me. I don't think it'll go away. But is it a memory of shame or a memory of delight?

  My mother calls me as usual, and I stick to the base facts, not mentioning about the bakery, and certainly not mentioning about my little sexual fling. She keeps worrying about if I'm going to have a girlfriend or not, thinks I need a nice, sensible young woman to keep my head screwed on straight.

  Heh. Straight.

  Fat chance of that, it seems.

  Chapter Three

  The memory is strong and dark in my head, never leaving. I keep replaying the moment in my thoughts, I keep remembering all the different sensations I experienced when being with him. I recall the growl of his voice, the strong baked yeast smell of the bakery, the cold floor against my knees, and the burn in my ass, and the way I shamelessly came onto the tiles, unable to resist the stimulation of my g spot for long.

  I keep going to the bakery every day to avoid suspicion with Jake's girlfriend. I know it's necessary, and I completely expect him to blank me out and act like nothing has happened. It's the only logical thing he can do to make sure no one finds out, like he ordered.

  Still, I can't help but feel hurt. Now, to me, his smiles and words are laced with additional wariness, as if concerned he might be leading me on. Revealing something to her. I give thin smiles on these occasions, holding only the bare minimal amount of conversation needed, feigning that I'd love to stand and talk more, but things are picking up, and I need to push to have my business open in a week. I do give them a glance over at the plans as well, since I promised, though they don't add a lot more input into the situation.

  It doesn't look as if Hillary suspects anything, but I can't help but feel like a treacherous little bastard, smiling at her and talking to her as if we might be friends.

  How long can we possibly hold onto a secret like this?

  The bar takes shape over the rest of this week and the next, and I intend to have it open by the next weekend. I hire a student who can help me out for a few hours in the weekend, and one of my friends will stay for a week to let me access how busy it will be, and how many people I'll eventually need to recruit. The garden's done now, with an outdoor industrial grill set up and sheltered. The inside of the bar has a small stage for karaoke and music nights. I'm not focusing on a dance floor, because the other two bars double as nightclubs as well, and I want a niche with my bar. The tables are a nice dark wood lacquer, I'm going for an authentic, rustic feel, and it's the same with the counter, except my friend has done something clever with the counter.

  The top of my counter is covered in a clear resin, and under the resin are thousands of bottle caps, color coordinated to give the counter a surreal, rainbow contrast. The other thing I have set up in the bar is a screen, and I plan to show sports matches or big, prime time shows, such as Game of Thrones or whatever seems to be big at the time. I have a quiet corner in my bar with a big table, for a group of friends to go there in private, or even to play a board game in the bar, though again, it's a wait and see what's popular. I think it looks fucking awesome, and I'm proud as hell with his work.

  The bar is set up. I've sent the adverts out, and placed signs outside detailing the big open, which will come with a karaoke night. The karaoke machine is here as well, with thousands of songs. My bar actually looks like a bar now. My brainchild is coming to fruition, and I'll be dammed if it's not worth every penny to see this develop. I snap pictures and send to my parents, and as usual, my mother is ecstatic to see how well it's doing – though I don't think my parents can make it for the opening weekend. It's good weather, so it will be both the barbecue and singing. Fingers crossed it all goes well.

  In the meanwhile, I still fucking can't get Jake out of my head. He's a plague on my thoughts, my greatest sin to date. I went too far with him. I know I did. But even now, I feel the slow burn of desire inside me, like a tiny matchstick flame that doesn't quite go out. He's changed something in me, opened something new in my brain, letting me comprehend better who I am. That I'm both a horrible person, but not guilty enough to want to stop something like that from happening again, or to choose to not let it happen if I could somehow rewind time and be left with him alone in the bakery again.

  I keep thinking about the back of the bakery, where they should be making their food, and keeping thinking about his words.

  I know you're not here to taste that cupcake, you're here to taste me.

  How can something so simple have so much implication, so much sex infused into his statement?

  And why the hell are my thoughts constantly drifting back to him? He takes up so much space in my head, it's a wonder I haven't gone insane yet. I'm addicted to him, and I know I have to wean myself off him. I don't plan to skip town, not when I'm on the ver
ge of making my dream work. I won't let something like that get in the way. I won't allow my dreams to be ruined.

  I go once more to the bakery and mention that I'm opening up today, and Hillary seems super excited to catch the news from me.

  “That's awesome! I look forward to checking it out for real. You're doing the karaoke tonight, right?”

  “Yeah,” I smile, as I'm handed my cupcake. The cupcake is less bright in my mind to look at now, as if there's a hidden taint upon it. Maybe there is. I can't even look at a cupcake anymore without remembering everything that happened with Jake.

  “I spoke to some of my friends, they're all interested in looking. You might end up getting more customers than you expect. You're doing free food, right?”

  “Yup. And first drink free if the drink is under three dollars – I'm not that generous.” I grin. What better way to lure potential customers in, than with a big, grand opening, where everyone can sample my products for free? It's about the last of my feasible savings, but I hope from here that I'll be able to make enough to cover the payments in a reasonable amount of time.