A Vote For Lust: A Bad Boy Political Romance

by Natasha Tanner

  “Oh, fuck me, Six,” I moaned as a delicious thrill mixed with an unsettling helplessness took over me. “Fuck me like you fuck the tall woman.”

  A HOUSE IN GREY GARDENS

  SIX

  “Who? What?”

  That’s what I should have asked. But I didn’t. Questions could wait. Right now I was lost in Sadie’s eyes, entranced by the way her mouth stayed open and watery, her breath enveloping me like an aphrodisiac. Damn, this girl was another thing. Something in me was rising quickly... or better, had already risen, instantly, as she jumped on me like a love bug.

  “Fuck me, Six. Fuck me,” she implored, her voice melting and dripping all over my chest as she frantically unbuttoned my shirt, the tuxedo already forgotten on the carpet, her legs at either side on the couch, her slit rubbing against my swelling cock through our clothes. “Fuck me. Fuck me senseless. Please, Six, fuck me.”

  I wasn’t going to refuse. I kissed her as if I wanted to swallow her lips, pressing on them, invading her mouth with my tongue, exploring every half inch; I tore open her blouse or whatever it was called, then ripped off her bra with a quick jerk. “Ouch!” she moaned, her eyes betraying the pinch of pain mixed with pleasure and anticipation. I cupped her breasts, letting their weight rest on my expert hands, hands that had killed countless people and caressed countless bodies, but never like this. She kept working on my shirt, and once it was completely unbuttoned, she ran her hands all over my chest and abs, feeling every hard mound, tracing every well-defined line between muscles, entangling her fingers in my chest hair and clawing at it as my massage made her sigh and moan.

  My cock wanted to escape its prison so eagerly that I feared it would end up tearing apart my boxers and pants. I let go of her tits, but she stopped me, shooting her hands at my wrists and bringing me back to her sweet, swelling breasts. Then she worked down there, unlocking my belt as she looked me in the eye, running it through the clips until she was holding it like a whip. She unbuttoned my trousers, pulled them down, enjoying the friction between our bodies as she did so; then she grabbed my cock with an urgent hand, gave it a brief jerk, noticed it was already rock hard and didn’t need any assistance, setting her panties aside, and slid it into her pussy, letting the wide shaft enter her slowly, fill her, make her quiver.

  “A-a-aaaaah...” she almost whispered, nearly aphonic as her arousal made her voice falter and slip. She bit her lower lip as she started moving up and down, slowly, very slowly, very sweetly, and I only noticed she had put my belt against my throat when she looped it around my neck and started tugging gently.

  I went crazy. As she put pressure on my throat and simultaneously went down on my cock, enclosing it in the warmth and sweetness of her pussy, I felt a sharpness in her breath and a glint in her gaze I hadn’t noticed before. She was being bad, forceful, taking control, defying me in the most intimate way. I rose to the challenge thrusting inside her, making her feel the whole girth and length of my excited cock, and she couldn’t help it: she started shivering, her skin rising in goosebumps of arousal, and she instinctively fastened the belt around my throat, her hands clenching the leather like pincers, making it hard and wild.

  There was definitely a wild beast inside her, and she proved it again and again and again, as she came hard while mounting me, tugging at the belt, moving her hips frantically until I felt my cock was catching fire from the friction, and screaming and yelling every time she peaked. I closed my arms around her back and pressed my body against hers as I pushed inside, multiplying the contact all over our skin, rubbing against each other, and as I reached my climax too, I thought I had finally met my match.

  * * *

  “Who? What?”

  This time I actually asked. After the delirious frenzy, after the intense release, after the sweet bliss and the peaceful slipping into unconsciousness, we were back in the day-to-day world, lying there naked with our limbs scattered around, weighing on each other, gazing at each other, lost in each other’s pores, but once more aware of our surroundings and circumstances.

  “Who what? What what?”

  “You said something about a tall woman,” I pointed out. “I think you were a bit jealous. I won’t complain if that’s what made you so fiery and wild. Maybe you were punishing me somewhat, with the belt and all? But I must confess I have no idea who she is.”

  A shadow of doubt crossed her eyes.

  “Really?”

  “Really. And if I’ve been fucking her, maybe you can help me remember,” I chuckled.

  So she told me.

  And once I realized who she was talking about, I felt the uneasiness setting in.

  “You know what, pretty face?” I said, squeezing her breast gently and putting a tender kiss on her forehead. “We’ll need to move again. I think you’ve met Four.”

  * * *

  “Hi, Pip.”

  “I’m Ace now,” he said.

  “Sorry. Ace. How’s it going, Ace?” Since Ovidius Hart had retired to live in Bali with that Russian girlfriend of his (and make her his wife in the process), Pip Glover had risen to the top and was now in charge of Little Vegas, so he inherited the title of Ace. I barely talked to him, so I’d never gotten used to it. For me, he’d always be Pip.

  “Bah, it could be worse,” he replied. “The fucking Chinese, as always. What can I offer you? A loan? Some guys with guns? A seat in Monte Carlo?”

  “A place,” I said. “Grey Gardens would be OK.”

  “I’m living in Grey Gardens now, motherfucker,” he laughed.

  “Come on, you have a mansion in fucking Tribeca,” I retorted. “I need to be a little far away from the noise.”

  “How about I kill you and we’re done?”

  I had to laugh.

  “Just tell me when we can move in.”

  “We?”

  “There’s a girl.”

  “Ah, of course there’s a girl,” he said in a mocking tone. “Well, let me see what I can do.”

  So he left us the house, of course. We drove all the way to New York and reached the Hamptons the next morning. I left my old cellphone behind, right in the middle of nowhere, and let Sadie drive the pickup while I set up a new phone with the secure apps that would let me keep in touch with Pam. I was trying to get everything in order so that I could talk to her and get her to leave us alone, but I needed some leverage first. I had spent weeks trying to pinpoint her physical location, to no avail. She had some advantage over me, since she had just discovered where I had been.

  The house in Grey Gardens was a big mansion, very traditional in style, with a private road leading to it and no nearby properties. It was the perfect hideaway in that it was located atop a small hill, so it let you see several miles around in all directions. This way, you could notice anyone trying to sneak on you with an advantage of half an hour at least.

  Sadie was enthralled by the house. She loved the big bookshelf filling up a whole wall, and the gigantic tub in the main bathroom. The first thing she did after doing a tour of the house was lie on the big couch in the main room and fall asleep instantly.

  * * *

  SADIE

  Grey Gardens was just as much an intimate hideaway as the house between the hills, but here, everything was bigger. We spent over a month there, too –and this time there was no tall woman meandering around, no strangers looking from the road searching for us.

  BUILDING MATERIALS

  SADIE

  I dreamt of Six. And Mark Cross.

  It started with Mark running his hands all over my body. Only my body was not fully formed yet. He was making me, building me from a pile of wet sand. He did my feet first, then my legs, giving them shape with long, slow, loving touches. Then he built my belly, my navel, my ass, my sex like a sandy jewel. Then my torso, my breasts, which his hands toured at length, cupping them, polishing them, caressing them as he formed the nipples from little mounds he modelled with his fingers. Then my arms, my face, my lips of sand, my eyes of sand that final
ly let me see. I was growing more and more upset as his hands ran all over me, but I was unable to move or speak.

  Then Six appeared.

  He was holding his gun, and wearing the same dark clothes he had when I first met him, minus the balaclava. He pointed the gun at Mark Cross as he walked in circles, mirroring Mark’s movements. I realized Mark was using me as a shield, trying to stop Six from firing.

  But Six fired. I saw the blast and felt the bullet passing through me, punching a hole in my body of sand, which started to disintegrate immediately. As I started crumbling down, losing my shape, my limbs, the features on my face, Mark fell roundly on the floor, reached by Six’s bullet. The killer’s green eyes lingered on me as I was quickly falling apart, until I was only a lumpy mound of wet sand on the floor. I woke up as I felt my insides drying up under a sun that wasn’t there a moment earlier.

  The dream had made me comprehend something I wouldn’t have fully realized by just thinking about it while I was awake. Six was a bad guy. He could protect me, he could spare my life in a literal sense, but he was killing what I was deep inside, erasing my identity and ideals, turning me into a pile of sand without any individuality, projects or ambitions of its own.

  So I left him.

  * * *

  It was not easy, of course. In fact, it was physically painful. I heard him humming in his room while cleaning his gun or something, as my gaze lingered on every little thing I had come to familiarize myself with in that house. The couch, his computer, the clock on the wall, the huge bookshelf, the kitchen aisle, the pans, the window locks: everything had his sign, his smell, his touch.

  I had a fake ID, I had my cellphone, I had some money, I had the key to Millie’s house in Cedar Rapids, and I knew where Six kept at least one of his guns. So I raided the house collecting the few items I’d need. I left without even saying goodbye to him; I knew that if I so much as gave him a glance, my resolve would fail.

  I did scribble “GOOD LUCK” on a Post-It note, though. It was meant for me as much as him.

  LEAPS OF FAITH

  SIX

  She wouldn’t rat on me. Not after what we’d been through.

  And I don’t mean being on the run, targeted both by the authorities and the Scope.

  I mean after we looked each other in the eye and we saw each other’s true self. I mean after we had the most incredible and passionate sex human beings can experience. I mean after we realized we loved each other as if we’d been together for years.

  Even so, if she decided to rat on me, she would be in the right. I was a killer, and she was an innocent victim who ended up in the middle of something she didn’t sign up for.

  I did. I signed up for all of this. I knew that this could end this way, from day one. Nobody joins the Scope without knowing exactly what they’re doing.

  But she would break my heart. If she happened to rat on me, the worst thing wouldn’t be the arrest and the prison (if the police got to me first) of the bullet to the head (if the Scope found me before them). The worst would be my heart breaking.

  I’d trusted her since the first time I saw her. I’d left her unchecked, with the doors unlocked, all kinds of weapons around, every tool at her disposal to turn her back on me or tell the whole world about what I had done. She was never my prisoner. Somehow, she stayed with me voluntarily. I thought we had connected in a deep way. I made a leap of faith.

  But now she was gone. All I could do was respect that decision, and not look for her. She had been under my protection, but now she didn’t need it anymore. In fact, I was the one who would have to act fast to avoid losing this lethal game. At most, I could try to keep her safe by getting the Scope off her back. I didn’t need her to be with me to do that.

  She had left me, plain and simple. And who could say it was not the right decision? All the wonderful chemistry was just a spark in the midst of a frantic race for our lives. We had never been meant to be together. Even if it hurt to admit it. And yes, I had to admit it hurt, too.

  Only now that she was gone, I realized just how deep was what I felt for her –how soft I had gone, as Seven would say. I loved that woman. And that would be my downfall.

  I should have known. A hitman has no heart. I shouldn’t have let one grow inside me.

  * * *

  SADIE

  There was something growing inside me.

  I had noticed it three weeks earlier, when the monthly call of nature didn’t come. I waited a few days more, thinking that maybe the stress of the whole situation I was living in had made me miss the date with myself, when otherwise I was as regular as a clock. But now I was sure. I’d ordered a test stick online, without Six knowing, and I’d used it as soon as it arrived.

  Getting the damn stick had been as stressful as the suspicion of being expecting. I had to find a way to order it by email, without applying with my credit card, so that I wouldn’t be tracked. Then I paid in cash when the guy brought it home. I’d been lucky that the man came when Six was out, because racing to the door to get there before him would have been awkward and hard to explain when we were in hiding. But it arrived, and I used it, and confirmed it. I was pregnant with Six’s child.

  Of course I could have told him, confront him about it, inform him of the results, but I shivered at the thought of us having this kid and living on the edge forever. It was best for all of us if he didn’t know.

  I knew I was in danger. Heck, I had left Six right when I needed him most –for the child, not just for me. But I couldn’t go on like this. The dream of sand and cold and fire had made me realize this was not a life I could live.

  So I was on my own now. I had a weapon I barely knew how to use, a fake ID that wouldn’t get me too far, and an empty house I could crash while my sister was traveling around Europe. It was not much; it wouldn’t be enough to escape from an organization of professional killers. But I could try to get to the root of this before they got to me. It was a leap of faith.

  I could only hope it was not a terrible mistake as well.

  RESIGNATION NOTICE

  SIX

  I needed to make a secure call. I opened the app in my smartphone (an inconspicuous app, looking like some silly game until you tapped the secret code to enter the true thing) and asked for a connection to Pam. Both of us would remain untraceable, even for each other; in fact, I didn’t know where in the world was Pam Overton at the moment, and I hoped she was equally ignorant of my whereabouts.

  “Six,” she said, feigning surprise. “I thought you’d prefer a video chat.”

  “You would see a bird or a cloud behind me and you’d be able to deduce my location,” I answered. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  She didn’t laugh. She didn’t even chuckle.

  “I was wondering when you were going to call,” she said. “You really messed up the job, you know? Some people are pissed off.”

  “They can piss off some more. Why are you after me?”

  “Are you serious? I’ve just said it. You botched the job. It was kind of an important job.”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not all. There’s more.”

  “More?” Pam echoed. “Six, you were paid half a million.”

  “And I will give it back, but keep the girl out of this.”

  A groan on the other side of the line. Pam was pissed.

  “You can’t go around saving people, Six. You’re supposed to kill them.”

  “There’s more, I know,” I said stubbornly. “Half a million is too much. Again, why are you after me?”

  “I told you already. If the money is too much, you could have just not taken the job.”

  A current of anger surged from somewhere in my guts and made its way through my stomach and chest very fast, threatening to bolt out of my throat like a sour flame.

  “Don’t play the fool,” I spat. “You know what I’m talking about. Sadie is out of limits. Come after me if you want, but stop messing with her or I’ll track you and I’ll shoot you in the face. Ge
t Four off our backs or—”

  “Four?”

  Her reaction was so quick, and sounded so genuinely surprised, that I hesitated for a second.

  “Yes, Four. If she happens to...”

  “I didn’t send Four, fucking idiot,” Pam retorted. “Four is AWOL. I dispatched her a month ago and she didn’t come back. Have you seen her?”

  I didn’t answer to that. If Pam was bluffing, I wouldn’t give in. And if she really didn’t know about Four, it was best to let things stay that way. The less she knew, the better.

  “Looks like your fingers tend to disappear or go rogue with appalling frequency,” I sneered.

  At the other side of the secure line, Pam sighed.

  “Look, Six, I don’t have time for this. You still work for me, and you need to fix the mess you’ve done. You know what you have to do.”

  “Yes. But I won’t.”

  There was a brief silence. When Pam spoke again, she seemed disappointed.

  “You are one of the best fingers I have, Six,” she said. “I don’t want to get rid of you. But you’re just forcing me. There is a price to pay for breaking the rules.”

  She was right, of course. The hitman’s code is short and easy to memorize. I had never broken a rule before, but in my last job I had managed to violate more than one. The mark will die. But Mark Cross was very much alive, and gaining more and more political support out of his broken window and lip and nose. Only the assignment exists. But I had deviated from course to stop a rape attempt instead of just doing the job. No witnesses. No loose threads. But there was a pretty witness meandering around New York as we spoke. And if things went on like this, I’d break a couple more rules on the way.