The Bonus

by A. J. Adams

I was clinging on to him, kissing his neck and gulping in air with sobbing breaths when I felt him shudder. “Dear god, sweetheart, I’ve got to have you right now.” He lifted me up, and stripped my jeans and knickers off me in one movement.

  We had a moment of panic until he found a condom in his wallet. Then with a sigh of relief, he planted me right on the edge of the bench, and moved in close. I wrapped my legs around him, feeling his cock standing straight up, his hot, rigid flesh hard against me. I paused for a second, teasing him by letting the tip slide inside me, and then rising a little. He stood stock still, his breathing becoming ragged as I arched against him, holding myself up, just out of reach of that jutting rod.

  “Want me?”

  His answering moan said it all.

  “Have me.”

  He gripped me tightly, held me steady, and with one movement pushed up hard, filling me with one wild, hot, thrust. His cock piercing me, the scent of him surrounding me, the gasping breath in my ear spilled me back to the edge of orgasm. I could feel myself clench about him as he began to drive in and out of me faster and faster. I clung to his shoulders, clamped my legs around him, and throbbed in rhythm.

  My bum was bouncing off the workbench but I didn’t care. The flood of sweet words as he fucked me was bringing the volcano deep inside my belly back to the point of eruption.

  My hands were around his neck, I was surrounded by his strong arms, half seated on his thighs, soaking in the feel of his strength as he plunged in and out me. He smelled of leather and spice; sweet and strong. His breath was harsh and uneven. Beads of sweat were running down his chest, dripping on my breasts before sliding off and running down my belly. Leaning back and looking down, I could see his cock punching in and out of me.

  That did it for me. I ground my body into his, moving hard against him, revelling in the heat inside me that was building and banking, shuddering, sobbing and screaming as the volcano inside me exploded. My coming set him off too. His hips banging hard against me, he came a second later, moaning in my ear, shifting his grip so he could grind against me, draining into me with every juddering thrust.

  It’s just as well that Kyle’s built like The Incredible Hulk because I was so pooped that I couldn’t even stand up by myself. He picked me up and carried me into the house, leaving our clothes strewn all over the garage floor.

  He dumped me on the bed and collapsed next to me. We lay there, panting, hot and sticky. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy before in my life. I felt… liberated. Free. For the first time since I was fifteen.

  Isn’t that weird? Because I was pretty sure that Kyle wouldn’t just let me walk away. Well, maybe he would, but Arturo probably wouldn’t. And anyway, even if they did, I’d have to go into hiding because that wank biscuit Raj would be after me, looking to have my guts for garters. Unless I killed him first. It was a nice thought.

  I’d still have to find a job though, and as my only skill was couriering, I’d have to go back into business. And for that, I’d need clients and protection. Hmmm.

  “Kyle,” I said snuggling into him.

  “What is it, pitufa?” His arm came around me automatically, his hand ruffling my hair.

  “Will I be working for you?”

  He was silent. Instantly I got worried.

  “After I tell you everything about Raj,” I added hastily. I hoped it would remind him that I was valuable. Hopefully.

  “We’ll see.”

  I rubbed my face against him, thinking the sweet kitten attitude would melt him. It didn’t.

  “Chloe,” he turned and leaned over me, looking straight into my eyes. “Don’t do that.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant but I smiled as if I did. I didn’t want to make him mad.

  He thought for a moment, then spoke gently. “Pitufa, you don’t have to do tricks. Just talk to me.”

  He meant all those cutesy things that I do. The stuff that was beaten into me had become a part of me. “I don’t know how,” I confessed helplessly. “I do it without thinking.”

  “I know, sweetheart. What I’m saying is, don’t confuse me with Rimjob.”

  “Brilliant name!”

  He grinned. I love it when Kyle grins. It makes him look so different. All that hardness just vanishes, and you can see the person inside. The nice Kyle. The one who doesn’t mind if I wake up with a nightmare, or if I drop something and smash it. The one who gives me kisses, and calls me sweet things. The smile turns him from a devil into an angel. Well, ok, dark angel maybe with all the dark looks and the constant black, but you know what I mean.

  “Do you want to go back to work?” he asked me.

  I hesitated. Couriering was all I knew. “I’m broke,” I told him. “Rimjob gave me a couple of quid every now and again, but I have no savings. And couriering is all I know.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Kyle grinned. “Your real talent is in the bedroom.”

  Christ! He wanted me to be a whore!

  He must have seen the panic in my eyes because he instantly shook his head. “I don’t mean you should be a puta,” he said quickly.

  “What then?” I asked relieved.

  He hesitated. “I don’t know exactly but there’s no need to think about it now. We’ll talk about it, ok?”

  If that meant I could stay here with him then that suited me fine.

  “And don’t worry about money. I’ll give you some.”

  That’s a first. Nobody has ever offered to give me money. For a moment I was going to ask how much. Then I thought of Pepper and Tania. They were stuck in some hellhole somewhere. Tania was quite tough but Pepper was probably falling to pieces. And there wasn’t even a hope in hell that they were together. They’d be alone, and there’s nothing more scary than knowing you’ve been abandoned and that nobody gives a toss if you live or die.

  “Kyle,” I asked on impulse. “Can you get Pepper and Tania out?”

  He looked a bit surprised and then he frowned. “From where?”

  That was a problem. I had no idea.

  “Do you know what names they were using?”

  Again I had no idea. “Tania’s name is Mercer. We don’t know what Pepper’s is but she often goes by Winters.”

  “If they’ve been identified, that’s helpful,” Kyle said. “But if they were caught red-handed, it’s a slam dunk and it’s unlikely anyone will look into their documents.”

  That was true. Nobody had questioned my papers the two times I’d been caught. I’d been arrested and deported from Portugal as Zoe Smythe from Liverpool, and arrested and jailed as Julie Walsh from Montreal in Cambodia. Whatever else Rimjob is, the IDs he provides are excellent.

  “Do you have a photo of them? Maybe on your smart phone? I think Arturo still has it.”

  “No. Rimjob wouldn’t let us. For security reasons. I’m only allowed to take pictures of strangers and of scenery.”

  “What countries do they travel to?”

  “I haven’t seen them for six months but the last time I heard Pepper was with some dealer in the Lebanon and Tania was working the Far East.”

  “Pitufa, that covers half the world,” Kyle said gently.

  “I know,” I whispered. “It’s impossible.”

  He sighed. “Not impossible. Just difficult. I’ll look into it.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “Don’t expect miracles,” Kyle warned me.

  I snuggled up to him, and gave him a kiss. “I think you are a bloody miracle,” I told him. “Thank you, Kyle.”

  He was smiling at me. “That’s better,” he said softly. “That’s the Chloe from the dream book. The real Chloe.”

  That surprised me. “Really? Better?”

  “Anything’s better than a fuckbot, pitufa.”

  You know, Kyle really has a gift for nicknames. Fuckbot. I like that. “No more fuckbot,” I promised him.

  “Good. Just be yourself. That’s the girl I like best.”

  I think that’s when I sto
pped liking him. That’s the moment I fell in love with him.

  Chapter 9 Kyle

  When I woke up, the sun was streaming in the window. I could hear the sound of the juicer in the kitchen. Chloe was making fresh orange juice. It’s one of my favourite drinks but I don’t make it often, because cleaning the machine is a pain in the ass. Since Chloe moved in, I’d had it every day.

  I took a shower, knowing that she’d come running as soon as she heard the water running. She’d be hovering outside, waiting to see if I wanted her. Of course I wanted her! Who doesn’t want a beautiful girl in the shower first thing in the day? But this wasn’t coming from Chloe. This was one of the things Rimjob liked. Now she was mine, I was determined to break her of all those fuckbot habits.

  I opened the shower stall door, and there she was, waiting for me with a big smile. It had taken just that first day to break her from standing about looking at her feet, but she’d looked nervous a lot of the time. Today the smile was a beam that lit up her face, making her eyes sparkle.

  She was so beautiful, that I instantly forgot what I was going to say. I put my arms around her, soaking the towel and her in equal measure. She hummed as I kissed her. The flowery scent of that soap she likes hung all around her. I was rock solid and ready to go. Then I remembered: this wasn’t really her.

  “Pitufa,” I began gently.

  But Chloe was giggling and rubbing up against me lasciviously. “Is that for me?”

  She was looking down at my cock. This wasn’t the fuckbot, this was all Chloe.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Awesome.” She was laughing. “Get it? Awesome giant knob! It’s a pun!”

  That was enough to convince me that a workout wouldn’t be a bad idea after all. Yeah, I know. I’m easy. So sue me.

  By the time we got to the orange juice, it was almost lunchtime but Chloe had everything ready for a pancake breakfast - another one of my favourite things. She’d even prepared side orders of bacon and maple syrup. It’s just as well I’m fucking her three times a day. If I weren’t, I’d be so fat that my dick would have rolls.

  While she was doing the dishes, I gave Arturo a call. Rimjob had gone to Mexico City, promising to be back to pick up his five ki’s on the way back. He hadn’t told Arturo much, except for saying he dealt with Rodriguez, a lieutenant with the Gulf.

  “Chloe’s going to tell me everything she knows,” I told Arturo, “but her beat was the Far East so I don’t think she’ll know much.”

  “Get her to list potential buyers,” Arturo said. “We’ve got a bumper crop, and we could do with some foreign currency. Chinese Yuan, Japanese Yen, and Singapore Dollars. I’ll take some Malaysian Ringgit, and some Indian Rupees too - if the deal’s right.”

  From the sound of him, Arturo was feeling good. He’s always happy talking about money, and nothing turned him on faster than a bit of currency trading. I told him I was on it.

  Chloe had been working for Rimjob for years, so it would take a while to debrief her. It had been some time since I took on a big job like this so the prospect of building up a full picture of Chloe’s life and times was a nice challenge. An easy one too because Chloe was dying to tell me everything—and for all the right reasons too. I wouldn’t have to lift a finger because I knew what Chloe wanted: she was hoping that I would take over Rimjob’s network and kill him.

  I was all for it and Arturo was considering it as a top option too. It might have been different if Rimjob were a man of substance but as he wasn’t and neither of us liked the fucker, we’d have no problem eating him up and spitting him out. It was just a matter of time.

  I spent an hour swimming in the river, figuring out how to go about the debrief. The first thing would be to reorganise my schedule. Usually I meet up with everyone at Arturo’s but now I’d have to take some time out, and hang at home with Chloe. I decided I’d get Quique and Chema to come over and report to me here every day, and go to the big house every two or three days, just to keep in touch. Things were quiet at the moment, so hopefully I wouldn’t have to go out on too many jobs. I wanted to focus on Chloe.

  When I got back to the house, she was waiting for me on the deck. She skipped down to the river, holding another big towel and with another one of those big smiles but this time I refused to give in to temptation. We had work to do.

  There was a surprise waiting for me too.

  “I’ve written some notes,” Chloe said shyly.

  She’d started listing places she’d been, with contacts and details of jobs listed against each.

  Chloe stood next to me. “See, when I’m in Paris to deliver joy powder, I meet André Caron, but for other stuff like microchips and paintings, I deal with Sofi Fournier and Abdul Legrand. I have contacts for them in my phone, but under aliases. You know, for security. I haven’t bothered trying to remember details of drops because there’s too many of them but if you’re interested in anything in particular, just ask me.”

  This is another thing I like about Chloe: she’s always thinking. She really is a remarkable girl. Another look at the list convinced me that I needed some extra security, and fast.

  “These aren’t my contacts,” Chloe explained showing me another list. “They’re working for Rimjob’s associates. I’ve come across them from time to time, and as I’m a nosy cow with quite a good memory, I thought you might want to know about them too. Like this one, Hans de Boer, is the main coke dealer for the Polish mafia in Zurich. I think his boss is Nikolai Abazov.”

  I’d known Chloe would give us some terrific intel but this was way beyond my wildest dreams. If Rimjob knew that Chloe was blowing his organisation, and giving us a good look into the networks of his prime associates as well, he’d try to take her out. I’ve got excellent security but nothing is ever 100%. Not even the Pentagon: although they had to use a plane and a suicide bomber to score there.

  I told Chloe to keep working and then I called Quique. An hour later we had a dozen men outside. That gave us breathing space to set up three shifts of a dozen acting eyes each, with Quique, Chema and Little Ricky taking charge of organising the duty roster.

  When I got back to Chloe, she was looking suspiciously at Pedro Rojo who had taken up position at the edge of the river, and Little Ricky who was checking out a patch of oaks.

  “Why’s the pack gathering?” Chloe sounded edgy.

  “I’ve ordered extra security while we work.”

  Chloe twitched. “I thought you had people all over this place.”

  “And now there are more.”

  I don’t yell, ever. But I have a quiet way of letting people know that I won’t tolerate insubordination. Chloe’s head dipped instantly. I thought for a moment she was going to apologise but then she looked up again, her eyes narrowed and her lips set in a firm line.

  “Why should I feel safe with those wankers about?”

  Wanker, knob, willy, tackle, shag, bonk, bollocks—the Brits use some awesome words.

  “Because they’re my wankers, Chloe.”

  “And when they’re on a tea break, they can play trains with me?”

  She was breathing rapidly and her hands were sweaty, dampening her notes that were lying on the table. I was happy to have her challenge me because I saw it as a step further away from the fuckbot but looking at her closely, I suddenly realised she wasn’t being brave. Chloe was frightened. I swept her up in my arms.

  “That’s not ever going to happen, Chloe. Not ever.”

  She was clinging to me, half relieved and half angry. “Those bastards were all at your brother’s party. The one where I was playing ice-breaker.”

  “So was I.”

  She stopped breathing. Then she shook her head. “Yeah, but that’s different. You weren’t enjoying it.”

  “Didn’t stop it either.”

  “Why should you? You didn’t know me.”

  Another thing I like about Chloe: she’s not sentimental.

  “Will you take my word for it that they’re here to
keep you safe? And no more.”

  There was a long pause. “All right.”

  I thought that was the end of that, and got her back to writing up her list. Meanwhile, I went off to the bedroom so I could call Arturo privately, to ask him to send over Chloe’s phone if he still had it, and to catch up on the day’s events.

  He did still have her phone, so that was all right. For the rest there wasn’t anything urgent, just a few reports that required my attention. It’s like that. Sometimes I’m sending ten messages in one week, and then there’s nothing up for months. I tell Arturo one is the consequence of the other, and that it’s because I’m the best of the best, but I know that’s not true. Life just is that way.

  The second I hung up the phone, I heard raised voices in the kitchen.

  “Hijo de puta!” That was Quique.

  “Vaya mamon!”

  “You can both go fuck yourselves!” That was Chloe, her voice high and frightened.

  I was there in a heartbeat.

  Chloe was standing by the kitchen sink, a coffee cup in her hand. Quique was standing in front of her, facing down Pedro Rojo who was red faced and furious.

  “That bloody bitch spat in my coffee!” he yelled.

  “Back off you fucker or I’ll have your balls!” Quique snarled back.

  When they saw me, they all shut up instantly.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Pedro Rojo was glaring at Chloe, who was looking at me sideways, clearly worried about my reaction, but she was giving Pedro the stink eye.

  “She’s spitting in the coffee,” Pedro snapped.

  “In yours. Not in mine,” Quique retorted.

  It took a few seconds to sort out. Apparently Chloe had made coffee for me, and Quique had asked if she could pour him one. When Pedro walked in, he told Chloe to pour him a coffee too. She had, but he’d caught her spitting in it.

  “What the fuck do you expect?” Quique asked him. “You’ve got the manners of a pig! You don’t order; you ask!”

  “Why should I…”

  I cut in before Pedro could say anything that meant I’d have to kill him. “What makes either of you think that it’s Chloe’s job to pour coffee?”