Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2)

by Alice May Ball

  The beat drove on and I thrashed my head from side to side. The humdrum, small-town world slipped into the distance and here we were, here I was, under the lights, thrilling the crowd. Me and an international rock mega-star.

  This was what life was about. I thought that he might fuck me right there, in front of all those people. Slip my jeans down, rub his huge cock against my black panties, rip them off and fuck me. I had no idea how likely that really was. The thought made me even hotter.

  Somehow, he had me sitting on his shoulders, facing him, rubbing the crotch of my jeans in his face. The smell of my running juice must surely have gotten to him, because it was almost knocking me out.

  He lifted me with one hand. One hand under my crotch. As he spun me to the floor, his fingers pressed against my pussy, at that moment, I wanted to literally devour him.

  He made theatrical bows to the crowd, and they cheered, of course. They cheered for me, too. Next thing I remember, we were on the black leather bench in the back of that Hummer of his, and he’s told the driver,

  “Go, Jake,”

  We’re off into the night.

  As the familiar signs and lights of the city pass behind us, I feel like a bigger person, in a smaller place. Like the town somehow meant less. And I meant more.

  The look in Blaze’s eyes was fierce and his breathing was thick. My tongue kept on flicking out and wetting my lips, but they seemed to dry again straight away. My head made pictures of the huge hot thing that we both knew was coiled in his pants. I wanted it uncoiled. I wanted it out. I wanted it.

  He gives me his thousand-watt smile as he’s parting the huge buckle on his belt, dragging the zip down. He reaches into the leather opening and he pulls out his plums, and hauls out the length of his thick, dark cock.

  Still smiling, he grabs my hair and shoves he my face right into his lap. He plunges his cock into my mouth, and he pumps it in, as far as it will go, each stroke a little farther, a little deeper and each stroke he holds a little longer.

  Each beat, it swells, hardens more. I try to tell him that I haven’t done deep-throat before – I did try it once, that wasn’t a successful evening – but it’s hard to talk with your whole mouth jammed up on a steaming, thrusting, hard cock. When he hit the back of my throat, my shoulders shook and in that sweet, dark voice he said,

  “Oh, baby. We’ll have to get you taught.”

  So his hips beat the rhythm and his hot cock slid through my moist lips and along my wet tongue, it filled my mouth then slid back, again and again. How it filled me made me desperate for more, and waves of hot, vibrating pleasure flooded from my thighs to my throat.

  His cock slid in and out, stopping just at the opening to my throat. He tasted of something dark and forbidden. His scent was like a man scent turned up to eleven. Then he said,

  “Suck, baby,”

  So I did, and he said,

  “Suck harder baby,”

  And I did, and then with one long stroke he slid back so that only the hot, shiny, throbbing head was between my lips, and his shaft began to pulse. Using my hair he pulled my head along and back, and along and back.

  My breath was in massive, uncontrollable gulps as hot juices made me squirm, seeping into my pants. The sensation of raw power that I felt was unlike anything I had felt before. My body trembled. With every breath in, a tightness rose and fell.

  His thick cock got hotter and its pulse beat harder and I devoured it. He groaned deliciously as my moist lips, my soft, wet mouth, my widening, sinuous tongue pressed, caressed and devoured him.

  As I felt his heat rise, he moaned and my soft breasts buzzed with the vibration from his hard thigh. It resonated in my chest, and I moaned in reply. The low sound vibrated along his shaft and his hips bucked as he thrust into my mouth, and with my hair in his hand he bounced my head along his hard, hot, pulsing shaft in rhythm.

  The delicious scent and taste of his precum filled my head and we pounded on and on together, climaxes quaking and rising through me. Each one made me moan harder, each moan fanned his cock more, each vibration brought him closer, and finally his movement became wild and his smoking hot load started to splash at the back of my throat. He pumped and pumped and said,

  “Ah, yeah. Good girl. More like that. Yeah. Good girl,”

  His grip on my hair pushed my head even faster and harder. He shot so much cum into my throat that it dribbled out of my lips onto his leathers. He scooped a glob on his fingers, pulled out his cock, and shoved it between my lips. I sucked it off, licked his fingers and gulped it all down.

  He looked into my face, held my chin in his hand and said,

  “Yeah, baby. Good girl.”

  There was no way to know who or how many people had been able to catch the back seat show, and I hadn’t been paying much attention to where we were. I looked around in a daze.

  The side windows were dark tinted, though the windshield was clear. I couldn’t focus, or even care what was going on outside, and I felt like the queen of the world as his arm slipped around my waist, and he cupped my breast.

  We were headed across a large, dark, crowded parking lot, full of long trucks. I saw ahead the lights of the football stadium, and heard a roar in the distance. I saw a smile sneak across Blaze’s face, and I knew he had the same thought that I did. I said,

  “Well, I got a big shout for my blowjob,”

  He smiled and said,

  “Better than that. You got a load of mine,”

  We pulled up among a mess of trucks, trailers and limos, guys milling around. As we climbed out of the car, I was breathless, and the cool night air blew on and around every hot part of me.

  And I stood taller, wider, more proud than I remember since… since I can remember. I thought of daddy saying,

  “Just be who you are, girl. You can’t go wrong.”

  Stepping out at Blaze’s side into the night arc lamps in this throng of burly guys, I felt like I was that girl, maybe for the first time.

  People turned to give Blaze a wave or a ‘hey.’ We walked up some steps to a door manned by two security guards, who he greeted like old buddies. He Inclined his head toward me and told them,

  “White.”

  I didn’t know what it was supposed to mean, but they seemed very impressed. On of them went inside and came back with a white wristband. He said to Blaze,

  “Name?”

  He said,

  “Nah,”

  And they all laughed and slapped Blaze on the back as the guard fastened the plastic band around my wrist and Blaze pulled me behind him and into the darkness through the door.

  Ahead of us was a huge, echoing sound. It was hard to make out at first but, as we stepped around cases and scaffolding, past the backs of people, mostly men, all facing the way we were going, as we climbed a short set of steps towards the lights and the sound, I recognized the song. It was Away from my Window.

  We were backstage at the Organ Grind concert. We reached the level of the stage, and approached the light from the darkness at one side and I saw Chainsaw Babbage through the drapes, not fifteen feet away, beating on his guitar that looked like a chainsaw, and yelling into the mic the chorus that was the raw anthem of rebellion that summer,

  “Get that monkey, OUT OF HERE!”

  When we were right at the wings, almost on the stage, Chainsaw looked over and waved to Blaze, and he held up one finger. Blaze showed him one finger back, and they both laughed.

  Without a word, Blaze turned me to face the wall and pushed me so I had my hands on it. The smoky, golden boy voice came through my hair and I felt as much as heard him say,

  “Do much anal?”

  My eyes widened and I said,

  “None,”

  As he undid my jeans, he chuckled and said,

  “This is going to be a regular university for you, isn’t it.”

  Now? Here? It was true, I had never done it before. I’d thought about it often enough. I think that most girls do, but most girls say the
y don’t so who knows. The only boy who ever really tried, though, got so turned on between my bouncy buttocks, he came right outside and it was game over.

  As Blaze worked my jeans out of the way and pulled my panties down with them to my thighs, I was simultaneously turned on and terrified, in about equal measure. My heart banged, my mouth dried and my breath stuck in my throat.

  I felt something cold and gooey on his finger as it slid between my buttocks, around my little virgin ass and I yelped as it slid in. I felt my juice welling and starting to trickle down my thigh. Then two fingers widened my ass.

  The pain was excruciating as he slid them in and out, and pushed them apart. I relaxed as much as I could. Then there were three fingers, then three and a thumb sliding in the slippery gel, into my soft ass.

  My knees almost buckled as his fingers were replaced by the head of his cock. Both of his hands pulling my butt cheeks apart, he drove his way in. In and up. Cold, slippery gel, hot, hard cock and a raw ass, cushioned by my big, soft, round cheeks, which he spanked. He slapped my ass cheeks, first firmly then hard.

  And then really hard. His cock drove farther and farther up, and I yelled as he yanked on my hair. I shouted and shrieked as he thrust faster, harder, farther and farther up, his leather jeans jammed against the cushions of my stinging red ass cheeks. If we’d have moved three feet over, he would have been claiming my anal maidenhood in front of about twenty thousand people.

  My ass ached and burned raw, and my puss got hotter and wetter. I had never felt so full of a man. He finished as the song Monkey finished, driving into my ass so hard that my feet were off the ground. my weight was all on my ass and on his cock.

  As the crowd leaped up and yelled, he pulled out and I crumpled to the floor, my eyes and my pussy both streaming. I saw Blaze strut straight out to center stage to a roar from the crowd. Chainsaw said into the mic,

  “Anybody hear all that shouting from back there?”

  The roar of approval from the crowd doubled. The stage shook beneath me. Chainsaw grinned at Blaze and said,

  “Guess you’re all revved up now, right?”

  Another cheer. Blaze had a grin all the way across his face as he strapped on a guitar. He and the band tore and slewed into Lovelace Lies Bleeding. It seemed appropriate.

  Lying, quivering on the side of the stage, my thighs trembled so much, I knew I couldn’t stand yet. Blaze threw flashes of smiles at me as he played that killer song, like he was in front of about twenty thousand people, but playing just for me.

  Each time his eye sought me out there in the wings, a flash of pure thrill shot through me, from my tightening thighs right up to my throat. He threw me a couple of looks in his big guitar solo, one especially at the climax as he hoisted the head of the guitar up in the air.

  As he hammered into the last climactic chorus I came again. Nothing touched me, and I didn’t touch myself, and still I came. That hasn’t happened to me since high school. When he looked again, he must have seen it on my face that I was coming. If I’d pitched off a bridge right then, I would have landed straight in heaven.

  By the end of the song, I was back on my feet, my jeans were back up and I was shouting from the wings. The looks and leers that I caught from the stagehands and the other liggers and lurkers standing around backstage did nothing to dampen the thrill. The burning soreness in my ass, I took that as my badge of honor.

  After the song’s big finish, Blaze waved to the cheering stadium crowd and said something in Chainsaw’s ear that got a big laugh from him. Then Blaze was loping back to the wings and still grinning.

  He didn’t break step as he grabbed me by the hair and guided me back through the darkness and out the way we came in. That raw masculinity was terrifying, and it thrilled me, from my head right down to my pants.

  Everyone we passed grinned and applauded or shouted. Outside he took me to a black Harley. He swung his legs astride it and I was about to climb on the back when he said,

  “No, girl. What are you doing?”

  I just looked at him and my jaw sagged. He patted the fuel tank between his thighs and said,

  “Up here, girl.”

  I was about to try to climb onto the tank when he said,

  “You need to get your jeans off first,”

  As though that were the most obvious thing. What was I, an idiot? I took my jeans off, he took them from me and dropped them in a leather pannier. I wriggled up onto the tank, wearing just a loose t-shirt and a skimpy pair of sheer, black panties. I sat, facing him, my legs over his thighs. He said,

  “There you go.” and he fired up the bike’s thumping motor. That was the first time I heard the sound of that scooter, and I never forgot it.

  As we flew out onto the freeway, he looked me over, leaning back on the tank in front of him. My thin t-shirt flapped around my big breasts, bare under the thin cotton. As the wind whipped under the shirt and around my nipples, my breasts swelled, my nipples hardened and his eyes widened.

  The wind blew around the tops of my thighs and I looked up at Blaze, guiding the huge, pounding bike. Through my panties and right at the soft opening between my thighs, in his hot leather jeans I felt that rockstar ramrod ready to go. I said,

  “Fuck me,”

  He undid his pants and dragged that out huge member. Pulling my panties aside, he slammed it straight into my hot, wet, hungry puss. He rose out of the saddle to fuck me as we drove, the wind in my hair and under my t-shirt, fanning my hot breasts, my arms out behind me over the bars. He was in me, pumping the length of that shaft, and my breasts bounced. The feeling of my breasts swelling in the wind and under the flimsy cotton, his cock ramming into me again and again, and the heat of his hips grinding into my crotch and the hardness of his thighs under my ass, I was yelling.

  “Yes, yes! Blaze. Fuck me. Fuck me, Blaze, fuck me!”

  With one hand he reached up under my ass. He shoved a finger up there and it made me gasp again, and he used that hand to set the rhythm, his finger hooked in my ass to pull my hips on and down and up and around.

  His eyes flashed and his teeth gleamed in the dark. We passed all kinds of traffic, and I shouted at the little suburban people in their little suburban cars,

  “Look, motherfuckers. Feast your eyes! Drool and shove your hands down your pants! Because you ain't going to be doing anything like this. Not as long as you LIVE!”

  I was practically naked, the wrong way on a motorcycle, doing who cares what speed, bucking and grinding on a hard, hot, thick cock. I was flying and being fucked in the wind by a huge rock megastar. And I mean huge in every way.

  I pushed and squeezed my ass down as far as I could, and I pulled myself to sit up so I could wrap my arms around him, and feel his big, solid chest and trunk up hard against the cushions of my big, soft, lovely breasts. My nipples throbbed through the flimsy cotton t-shirt and against his hard chest and the wind rushed up cold between my thighs, and around the lips of my pussy as they hugged and sucked on his pounding hammer.

  Cold air picked out bare flesh around my crotch, mapping where my hot juices ran, the hot lips of my quivering quim as it clung hungrily to the thick shaft of his hot, pulsing, pounding rod. I beat my lips up and down that shaft and pushed my clit as hard as I could into his groin.

  I rose and slid down again and again, along the tank, along the length of that fat, hard cock. I felt the pulse of it rise up inside me, and his heat rose as mine did. He pushed me back to lying against the tank again and he rose to pound into me.