Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1)

by Alice May Ball

  The school year, we all agreed, had not been as advertised when we all applied from far away for our posts in this Jekyll and Hyde town. All of our so-called teaching jobs actually involved about four percent teaching, eighty percent crowd control and the rest was mostly police work. Oh, apart from dealing with the parents who were, as often as not, more dangerous than the kids.

  Now that the year was finally done with, tail feathers were due for a shaking. Perky little Naomi, fit and feisty Amy, the hardbodied phys ed teacher, chatty and outrageous Chrissie and Jayd, a couple of others, and luscious, cake-loving me. I was the youngest, and I was the one who always had to push those barriers just a little harder, test the boundaries, take a few extra risks. Always been that way. My daddy told me it would get me into trouble. But I remember he had on a sly grin when he said it.

  Back when I was in school, the girls all gave me a hard time for that, as well as for my weight. Most likely it was because my tits were way bigger than theirs, at least in the beginning. My big, curvy, womanly body always made me feel desirable, powerful and beautiful, but the other girls, all into their fashion plate idols and rap-ho’s, they did everything they could to make me feel bad about myself.

  The boys appreciated my outstanding assets, though. They reddened and their voices thickened as their pants got tight and they became a little outstanding themselves. All of them tried to come up with ways and means for their cocks to wind up between my big, soft young breasts. That was OK with me, better than OK a lot of the time, but I got such crap from the other girls that I couldn’t stand it. Somehow it didn’t seem to lead me into long-term relationships either, but I thought, who needs it?

  My body obviously gave pleasure to the boys, but not one of them ever never had the stamina or the skills to satisfy me. I can give a man the time of his life. I can do it over a few hours, or I can do it in about ten minutes. Still always leaves me wanting chocolate.

  Shouting over the music in the downtown club, I said,

  "Let's do shots."

  Carmel said,

  "I don't know, Luce, it's getting kind of late, don't you think?"

  You could tell she would go either way. She was going to be the one who would say later on, 'well, I said we shouldn't have. Remember I said that?'

  Monique, Jayd and Hayley shouted they were up for it, so shots it was.

  I’m thinking about that song from the Clash. My daddy wasn’t a bank robber, and you couldn’t really say that he never hurt nobody, but something about the song spoke to me. It was playing in the club when the shots arrived, the same time as Blaze appeared out of nowhere.

  Larger than life, the real deal, an actual rockstar. He moved, head and shoulders above the crowd, with that sinuous, cat-like prowl, his flashing eves devouring whatever they saw. Soft black leather stretched over his powerful thighs and his snaking hips.

  Across the front of those hips, under the tight, shining leather, just below a huge sliver buckle, was a bulge like he had half a baseball bat down there. All of the girls sitting on barstools, as he walked by, their legs all fell wide. His eyes fell on mine and he stopped. As he looked down to the now swelling globes of my big, creamy breasts, he steered right to our table. He looked straight at me and said,

  “We’ll do these. You do half and I’ll do the rest.” His watery, grey eyes on mine. He was talking about the shots. But he was saying something else at the same time. That thick, golden voice, like hot, sweet molasses. Slow and deliberate, deep and round, but whatever he was saying always sounded like a melody.

  All the girls’ eyes and thighs just fell open at the sight of a real, live 24-carat rock megastar. His eyes were still on mine. Shivers ran down my spine and moist quivers started in my pants. He said,

  “Just you and me.” Then, to the others,

  “I’ll buy some more for you little girls.”

  He’s good at that. He’s good at taking control as though it belonged to him. He’s good at paying for things, too. Blaze Paskall, big rock star, everybody knows who he is. Everybody wants to please him, do what he wants. He’s even bigger in the flesh than he looks on his outrageous videos.

  He’s better looking, too. A sinuous hunk of leather, denim, tattoos and sweat with a flame-red mane. Blaze Paskall, the old-school, hard-living, hotel-trashing throwback.

  Notorious for diabolical riffs, obscene poetry and the trail of havoc and destruction that The Difference Engine leave in the wake of their tours. Just like the band he got famous with, The Organ Grind. When he struts, everyone stands back.

  The Organ Grind were the hell-raising, too-hot-to-handle band, banned from hotels, airlines, even from some towns. Their songs and albums were the anthems of anger and the downloads de riguer that year.

  Their incendiary songs were written and sung by Blaze himself and his duelling axe partner, Chainsaw Babbage. Lovelace Lies Bleeding was that summers song you heard everywhere. The chorus hook, Get that monkey OUTA HERE! was the reaction of every angry teen that summer in every unwelcome situation.

  Wherever an adolescent was interfaced with authority, sooner or later you’d hear that refrain. As teachers, all of us heard it under nearly every surly breath.

  When Blaze split to form his own band, The Difference Engine, everybody expected the end of both Blaze and the Grind, but they split like some kind of amoeba, or a zygote or something. Now it was two bands, both as big and as powerful as the first.

  Guys cheer and nod at the sight of him, and girls juice in their jeans. I certainly did. I was, right then.

  I wasn’t going to let it show, though. I said,

  “Yeah?”

  I put salt on my hand, watched him as I licked it off, slowly. He did the same. His huge tongue flicked out of his thick, dark lips, moistened them first, all around the inside of his grin, grazed the sharp edges of his gleaming teeth.

  We sucked our slices of lemon, eyes bolted onto each other, and an electricity charged from my chest down to my gut, then dropped below. Four shots each, one right after the other. I wiped my mouth with my forearm and he grinned.

  The way that his chest moved under the shirt as he spoke, a pulse of raw lust bolted through me. He took my hand, turned it over and said,

  “What do we see in your future?”

  My stomach felt like it dropped about three story’s. He leered as his fingers brushed gently up the inside of my forearm. My heart thumped. I pulled to take my hand back, but he held it. Showing me that he had the power, as well as the strength.

  More shots, and the girls, the bar, the music, everything faded until it become nothing more than our backdrop. In focus when it was funny or exciting, otherwise the world was all blurry color and sound. There was only Blaze. And me.

  A picture washed across my mind of his face between my breasts and that massive cock, nudging its way into my wet puss, probing the hot lips apart, pushing its way in through the tingling folds. He’d said something, but I had to ask him to repeat it.

  I remember we were in the alley behind the bar, red and blue neon flickering on the damp brick wall, cigarette smoke and the musky smell of him through leather. My teeth chewed the inside of my mouth to check this was real.

  His hot breath on my neck confirmed it. That and the hot thing in his pants, which felt like it could burn its way through both of our clothes. He put his hand on my throat, thumb up to my chin.

  My head felt tiny in his hand. He looked at me and I was so turned on, my thighs were tingling so hard, I could hardly stop my knees from shaking.

  His eyes locked deep into mine as he slid my t-shirt up to my shoulders. I gasped as he slipped his hand into the cup of my strapless bra. He squeezed my tit and I moaned.

  He cupped my breast in his hand. They are pretty big breasts by any standard, but his hand makes them feel delicate. He squeezed with his thumb and fingers to push my aching nipple forward, and my wet mouth fell onto his neck.

  I bit softly as he squeezed again and I could smell my juices run as zinging
vibrations rose in my crotch. My nipples were hard as bullets and painfully tender.

  He ripped the bra in two between the cups and dropped it,

  “You don’t need that.”

  I love a man who’s not afraid to be a man. I love to be taken.

  He pulled me back towards the club and the dance floor. There was barely time to get my t-shirt back over my tits before he was flinging me around in the lights. Everybody on the floor made room, started to form a circle around us.

  Blaze strutted and shook, and he rubbed and stretched his body up my back and into the denim on my ass. He pushed me forward so I was bent over and his hand came down my ass, along and up my crotch, up my stomach and on to knead my breast, all the while, his thigh thrust forward and beat time between my legs.

  The whole club watched. Hayley, Jayd and the girls jumped and shouted and waved their arms in the air. They were only a few feet away, but it was already like we were on different worlds. I could see it in the looks on their faces, like they were eager for me to notice them.

  Something had shifted. I felt like the same big girl, inhabiting the same big frame, only I felt powerful. And appreciated.

  He spun me around and had me ride on his hips, my thighs clamped around his waist. He had one hand on my tit and the other held me by the neck.

  All the while, I could feel him sensing his audience. it was exciting to be at the center of such intense attention but, even then, even that first time, I knew that I was an accessory, a prop. He was the star, I was the what he held up to the light while everybody watched and cheered, like a jewel that sparkled and glowed, showing the status of the wearer. Suddenly, I was a jewel.

  He was behind me, squeezing my breasts, loose in the t-shirt with no bra. My ass pressed into his crotch and fixed on the heat, the swelling at the top of his leather jeans.

  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 an
d 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.