“Oh, god!” she moaned. I rocked her like that and she responded wildly.
“The nicest way to feel anything,” she gripped my shoulders and clung on, “Is with you all the way up inside of me.”
I slid and drilled into her. Her eyes stretched wide and clamped shut as juices ran again.
Her pussy was sucking on my cock so prettily, I had to concentrate and calm myself not to just let go and blast her. But I wasn’t going to forget that this one was all for her.
With her pussy upward, her legs were around my back. She rocked and moaned. I held her ass. She clawed my back. Her back arched and stretched. Then her teeth fastened on my shoulder. She rocked faster.
With her lips closed on my flesh, I felt her words more than I heard them.
“Fuck me Killian. Please, fuck me more.” She twisted and started to thrash. “Don’t stop.” Her pace quickened. I was determined to be her horse. Give her the ride she wanted, whatever it might be. Her wet face, the pounding of her ass on my thighs tempted my resolve and tried to weaken me.
Her breath was hot and damp in my ear. Her lips brushed my lobe. “I want you, Killian. I want you to come inside me.” I bit my lip. Remembering the name of every rock between here and Afghanistan couldn’t have stopped me now. “Give me your seed.”
Her teeth fastened on my neck and her little tongue flicked on my skin. Her nails dragged and clawed down the length of my back and dug into my ass. Her heels kicked into me and she shouted.
She yelled my name and groaned and begged and urged me on.
Her sweet, tight, needy little flower was pulled and stretched. She gushed and I came. With a thankful yell, my ass clenched and rolled. I clutched her, gripped her to me. And I piled my and pounded my cock all the way into her. Long, streaming bolts of thick, hot cum splashed her inside. There was so much I expected to see it come out of her mouth.
She shouted and I did, we screamed each other’s names. And we went on, rocking together, hugging and caressing and holding and rolling with each other, long after we were done.
MAN’S FACE SO close to mine on a pillow, I hadn’t known that could be such an intimate thing. He traced my lips with his fingers. And he smiled. Not a weaponized grin, I’d seen him do that, but a real, relaxed, easy smile. I was starting to think I’d fallen in love with the right man.
At that moment he took me in his arms, held me, brushed my hair with his hand and told me, “Clara Pearmaine, you are the most beautiful thing these jaded eyes ever saw. And I truly, deeply love you.” And he kissed me.
Folded in his arms, that kiss was almost better than the sex.
My head was light and almost giddy. But I was focused. Everything seemed to glow. Dreamily I asked him, “Is this what love feels like?”
“I can’t tell you about what you’re feeling. I’ve never been in love, so I shouldn’t be the one to ask.” His arms held me so tenderly, I seemed to fit so perfectly into his hands. “So I can’t say what you’re feeling. But for what I’m feeling, I’m fucking certain that this is what love feels like.”
“I love you, Killian.”
“And I really love you, Clara.”
“I think I may be pregnant.”
“I fucking hope so.”
“Me, too.”
“Let’s make sure.”
Seizing me by the waist, he lifted me and flipped me in the air. Gasping, I bounced as he threw me down. Rose petals jumped and billowed in the air as he grabbed my thighs. I was sprawled on my hands and knees in the soft covers as he pulled my thighs apart.
I squealed when he slapped the soft cheek of my ass.
“I made you a promise,” he snarled, “And now I’m going to keep it.”
My soft pussy was already weeping and waiting. His huge cock didn’t seem any smaller. My hips wriggled and rolled, trying hopelessly to stretch wider open. My ass rocked up and down, searching for an angle that he wouldn’t tear me apart.
My throat caught. Clamped shut, my eyes squeezed tight. Peeling back, my lips stretched and a high squeak jumped out of my throat. He felt as impossibly huge as he had the first time. I thought it would get easier.
But the first time, he’d been gentle. The leer in his voice and the hard flame in his eyes told me for sure, this wasn’t going to be like that. He held the tops of my thighs.
His immense cock gouged around my tight opening. He was hunting. Prying for an angle. But I couldn’t tell if he was trying to ease his entry, or to make me as sore as he could. My toes curled and my clenched hands beat on the mattress.
I jumped when he slapped my ass again. The savage grip of his hand yanked my hair. The tug of his hand jerked my head back and forced me down to the bed at the same time.
He held my head down and my ass was way up in the air, trying to find a way to let him in with less of a tearing stretch. Or even just a different ripping pull.
He piled into me. My thighs tightened, flexed, clenched and pulled. He slammed into my pussy like a road drill. My back bent. Every part of me, every muscle, every joint, all of me stretched and pulled.
I did all I could not to make a sound. Even while I came. Over and over. Almost every stroke, every ram of his hips, every piercing puncture slung me off a glacier into free air or tossed me like a lost boat, deep in a biblical ocean swell.
If a noise got out of my mouth, he would hear how much his absurd penis ripped and destroyed me. How every scrape of that hot, rigid monster pulled me apart from the core and out. And if he heard me, he might stop. I didn’t want that. Not for a second. Not at any price.
Bolts of burning hot sensation. Crazed lava lightning raged through me. My sore lips and aching wings poured like a brimming lake. Overflowing like a waterfall. From deep in my core, rods of exploding tingle tore out to my nipples and down my thighs. Curled tight, my toes pattered and banged on the bed.
He dragged my head farther back as he sped up and hammered me harder. Huge, thudding explosions burst outside on the shore. I assumed I’d imagined it. He certainly wasn’t deterred from his demolition. He slapped my ass again and again.
Reamed all the way into me, his hips smacked against the backs of my thighs. His cock pulsed and throbbed. It swelled. I almost cried. How could that enormous thing swell? And it drilled me harder.
In the corner of my eye, as another crack ripped the air outside, a glimmering flash lit the tinted windows. My pussy trembled, fluttering to grip on his throbbing pole.
More explosions went off outside. It sounded like they were getting nearer.
He shouted. “Clara! Clara!” and he pummeled me higher. Even deeper. And his hot lava fountained into me and coated me inside. I could only make a ‘Mmmm’ sound and some groans. If anything made him stop now I would die. I banged my ass hard against his thighs to let him know.
The sky outside lit up as I crested and swirled. He lifted me and spun me. I wrapped around him like a koala hugging a tree. My ass banged into him and I burst. Over and over. I kissed him. Scraped his head with my hands. Bounced harder. And broke like a dam.
He stroked my hair and kissed my wet face.
Softly he said, “Was that okay?”
“No,” I croaked. “That was wonderful.”
A bigger series of bangs began outside. He looked in my sleepy eyes, “Better than the first time?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “We’d have to try it again. Both ways.”
He nodded. I said, “Probably a lot of times.” Then, “What’s all that noise outside?”
“Visitors.” He held and kissed me. “I hate to say it right now but, it’s time to go.”
WE DRESSED QUICKLY. ON the way back up on deck, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and brought the half-empty champagne bottle and the two tall glasses.
On the shore broken-down buildings exploded. Each one shook and swelled before it collapsed. Masonry tumbled and fell. Dust, smoke and flames rose.
He was looking up the river. He told me, “The old factories and ware
houses were due for demolition. They’re just getting their party early.”
“Why?”
“Like I said. Visitors.” A long, thin boat churned the river, blasting toward us. He held my waist, “We aren’t at home to guests dropping by.”
The powerboat’s hull reared up and the swell made our boat pitch and roll.
The powerboat was driven by a huge black man. Killian said, “Jackson?” and the man said, “I didn’t hear your name, and you, Miss,” His eyes sparkled at me, “You didn’t hear mine.”
He gallantly held my hand to help me onto his powerboat.
In the moonlight, I clung to Killian in the spray as the boat’s engine roared and the nose lifted. It stood up almost on its end. Explosions rattled behind us, flashing in the sky. Jackson sped us away in the night. I held on tight to Killian’s arm and leaned my head against his shoulder.
I asked him, “Will it always be like this?”
He patted my hand. There was concern in his voice. “Truthfully? Hard to say.”
I leaned closer. “I really hope it is.”
~~
I whispered, “I have no idea how I know, but I really think I’m pregnant. I feel different.”
He pulled me close and his eyes shoe hard as he looked in my face. “I fucking hope so.” He kissed me and said, “I love you, Clara.”
Snuggling into his chest, I said, “I love you, killer Killian.”
LOVE THE BAD BOY ACTION?
NEED SOME MORE?
JACK
A bad boy
He jacked her car, she hotwired his heart.
Kidnap and betrayal, breathless action and a romance that’s too hot to handle
The icy blast of the shower shocked some of the last night’s fog from my head. I rolled my shoulders, trying to work some of the stiffness out. Stretched my neck to one side until a rattle of clicks popped. Then the other way. It helped, but not much.
Pulled my fingers through my hair, gripping it. Shook my head in the chilling flow. Took a breath in before sticking my chest right into the freezing stream. Man, that wakes you up fast. That and coffee, and I’m good to go. Cold water rinses a thick head clear in no time.
What they call mixed feelings was what I had, washing away the scents of last nights girl. The memory made me smile some. Stiffened and re-awakened my cock, facing forward for the new day. Pecker, as they say, up.
The side of my head was still sore above my ear. As I reached across my shoulder a stab of pain shot over my shoulder blade. What happened? Oh yeah, the idiot in the bar. Big guy with a razored Mohawk cut, a Marine from a nightmare, big daddy drawl, pawing that quiet girl who obviously didn’t want him around.
“You know you want it, babydoll.” Ugh, his voice. Why do guys act like that? More to the point, though, why is it, at the first sniff of trouble, my feet are steering me right at it?
First, I’d tried telling him nicely. “Pal, she’s just not into it. There are lots of girls. One of them will jump for your charm. Leave this one alone, okay?”
That was the bit I did wrong: telling him what to do. He hadn’t made up his mind until then. But I knew it; I got it wrong on purpose. I knew he’d take a swing.
He was built like a double-trunked Redwood. Why the fuck would I start a fight with a guy like that? If that first punch had landed, I’d have been out for the count.
I stepped out of the way of his Flintstone-club fist. Spun with my forearm hard into his stupid face. Hooked my ankle behind his. Slammed my left hand into his nose.
He hit the tiled floor with a crack.
There was a murmur around the bar. A bar fight in Bernie’s isn’t exactly headline news. But the crowd was on my side. That always helps. He moved to get up. I stood over him, ready to put my foot on his chest. Could have slid it up to his chin. And he could see how easily I could do it.
A sound rolled around the bar like a bowling ball. I definitely had the crowd. The guy got up to leave.
He was headed for the door. I turned back to the bar to see that the girl was okay. No making a move, just wanted to make sure she was all right. Okay, I’d watched her slink in and she was hot. Off the scale. So I wanted to make sure she was taken care of, and maybe I was thinking the best way to take care of her might be if we spent a little quality time.
That way I could make sure she was under something secure and protective. Like me. No way did I feel entitled to a prize, but I thought it only fair to give her the chance to offer.
That was when I felt the steel legs of the chair hit hard along my shoulder blade and across the side of my skull.
I lurched forward and went down. My arm waved and I took a table full of glasses with me as I stumbled. Beer and broken glass everywhere. I turned and scrambled up fast. Grabbed the center leg of the small round table in both hands. Jabbed the wooden top straight at his face.
It connected, but without much force. He was still standing. I threw the table at his body and as he fended it off I hit him hard in the throat. He staggered backwards. Reaching. Stumbling. His arms flailed. I shot my fist to knock upward into his jaw. As he crumpled, I reached for a pool cue.
Standing over him, I held the point of the cue against his eye. Quietly, I asked him, “Are we done here yet?”
The murmur around the room gave me a satisfying glow.
He nodded as he scrambled backwards on his heels and elbows. This time I watched him, held the pool cue by its end, and kept it pointed at his eye. Watched him scuttle all the way out of there.
That all accounted for the throb on my shoulder and the pain on the side of my head. It wasn’t what gave me the headache.
When she looked up from the bar—stopped hiding her face and her fabulous body in the protective hunch of her elbows and her rounded shoulders—as she unwound her back, straightened up and turned toward me—she looked like a model. It was like the lights went on. Boy, I do remember now. She was really grateful.
She bought a bottle of tequila and said we should take it to her place. Who was I to refuse? And I’m still long, fat, aching, and twitching, all along the part of me where she showed her appreciation the most.
Now those are some happy shower thoughts, right there. Mm, I could still hear her quivering moans. Feel her clawing my chest as she woke the whole street to tell them my name.
The water bounced and cascaded over me and I shook my head in the flow. No time to think about any of that now. There was a car to be stolen, and if I was late, my life might be on the line.
~<>~
It was still early when I parked up by the apartment building where Tynie lived. His rented apartment was on the fourth floor of a gray, concrete slab in a mess of gray, concrete slabs. The elevator was not reliable, and it always had an acrid, lingering smell of some kind, so I used the stairs.
The balconies on each floor that connected the apartments had most likely been open when the blocks were built, but now they had hard curtains of smeary plastic. The owners of the block most likely put it up to stop people throwing each other off and into the street, or maybe it was to stop themselves.
The plexiglass must have been transparent when it first went up. Scratches on the inside and out, discoloration from the weather, and age had all blurred the view of the outside world. The gaps around the edges created stomach-level slices of cold air.
I banged hard on Tynie’s door and waited a moment. Then I banged again, harder. I shouted Tynie’s name. After a few moments I hit it again, five or six times.
Killian: The Hitman’s Virgin Page 13
