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

by Alice May Ball

  “Dropped by for a nightcap?”

  The soft, low, southern drawl of a neat, burly man in a robe, coming out towards me. He reached out to take my arm with a huge, firm hand. I staggered a little, and he steadied my with his other arm, guiding me into the room. He wasn’t much taller than me, but he seemed very strong and I felt very safe. I said,

  “I have to get out of here,”

  As we stepped into to room, huge like the one above, but with no crowd, dancers or circus acts, he said,

  “We have to get that shoulder looked at before you go anywhere.”

  He was neat, with very short, wiry brown hair, twinkling blue eyes and an amiable look on his strong features. I said,

  “They‘re coming down after me from upstairs, and I don’t want to be here.”

  He said,

  “Don’t worry about that. Make yourself comfortable in the second bedroom for just a minute or two. Then we’ll get you all fixed up, OK?” his voice was so able, so calm and so completely assured that I trusted him.

  I did as he said and I went where he guided me. As I closed the bedroom door, I saw him open the door from the suite to the hallway and then carry an open book back to a sofa.

  The ‘ping’ of the elevator along the hallway was followed by a bursting rush of boots and male voices outside. As they approached, I heard the pad of bare feet in the room beyond, crossing the thick carpet to the door. Then Blaze’s voice,

  “Hey, we just lost a girl, and I think she may have come through your window,”

  Then, the smooth, easy tone of the occupant,

  “Yeah, I don’t usually expect guests that way. Anyway, she seemed in a hurry. You just missed her, she headed out towards the stairs, thataway.”

  Some uncertain grunting followed, and some boots in a couple of directions and considerable rush. The sound faced as the door to the suite closed, and I just heard the pad of bare feet on carpet to the door I was pressed against. And his calm, strong voice,

  “They’re gone for now,” and he waited until I turned the doorknob to let him in.

  “We certainly have time to fix your shoulder,” he took my arm in one hand and put the other on my shoulder. As well as hurting like hell, it felt completely alien and all wrong. He said,

  “This is going to hurt, a lot,” his blue eyes had an easy confidence that I felt reflected in me. OK, it was going to hurt a lot. But that would be alright. Before I had time to think or say anything, he yanked my arm and pressed on my shoulder, and he proved as good as his word. It hurt. A lot. I didn’t make a sound, though, and he gave me a big easy smile for that. I felt safe as he stroked my cheek.

  “You’re a smart girl.” he said, “And tough with it.” I said,

  “Are you a doctor? How do you know how to do that?”

  He smiled as he said,

  “Marines get to learn all kinds of good tricks.”

  He asked if I was hurting anywhere else and I said,

  “Nowhere that matters.”

  From outside, I heard the rumble of a pack of big bikes. I recognised one of them.

  My marine said,

  “Could be an idea if we get you somewhere else now.”

  That would be the first of many somewhere else’s.

  Savage

  Savage MC

  Alice May Ball

  “How can we know the dancer

  from the dance?”

  “You’re Angelica?” The big biker’s voice was low and hard as he looked me over. “You’re a gift. From Jake to me. A ‘thank you’ for good business.” I stood, pressed into the corner of the tiny, airless room. He took off the black shades. His dark, smoldering eyes traced my thighs and my tight butt in the frayed little denim cut-offs. My big, soft breasts, naked under the loose, low-cut tee, swelled and heaved as his eyes lingered and feasted on the rise and fall of my quaking curves.

  His wiry black hair was pulled back tight into a high pony tail, like on a Chinese martial arts guy. Over a black hooded kutte, he wore a black leather motorcycle jacket. When he’d turned to shut the door behind him, I saw a motif of gang colors on the back. Savage MC it said. And a big ‘S’ around a long dagger. A heavy chain hung through the belt loops. Pull it out of the loops, swing it around, looked like it would make a fearsome weapon. Looked like there was a fearsome weapon in the front of his black leather pants, too, below the heavy silver buckle. A tattoo on his cheekbone looked like an ‘S’ with a dagger through it, like in the colors.

  He stood in the doorway, the door closed behind him. Just me and him in the little wooden room. Airless and dim, only a small lamp on a table in the corner and a bigger table in the middle. No windows.

  My big brown eyes burned at him and my husky Mexican accent sounded awkward over the English as I said to him, “Does it matter at all whether I want to be your ‘gift’?”

  He looked down into my face and said, “Nope. Not a bit.” I bit my lip. He said, “If you don’t, well, Jake said I should fuck you anyway. ’Cause you need breaking in, he says. An extra part of the gift.”

  I breathed hard. He was big. I’m small. I couldn’t have stopped him. He could have had my little tee and my shorts off in no time. Do whatever he wanted with me. The thought made my breath catch. Thinking what he might do. The bulge in the front of his black leather pants was huge. Had to have been one hell of a big cock straining inside there.

  Only three days ago, I was back in my home village for the weekend, dancing at my cousin’s wedding. Uncle Cesar made a big speech to my parents and his other two brothers and their wives. I was in the room when he gave the great news. That all of the girl children were going north to cross the border. Come to the USA. He had arranged people to bring us. This was our ‘Great Opportunity,’ was what he called it.

  Our parents, my Mama and Papa included, they all raised their drinks and cheered. I looked at my little sister Inez. Eighteen years old, her birthday less than a week ago. We looked at all of the other girls. All our age. Their faces, like ours, frozen in disbelief. We all looked at Cesar, our uncle. Did he believe what he was saying? Afterwards I tried talking to uncle Cesar. “You know that I’m in law school in Mexico City. I don’t need to cross the border with some traffickers.”

  “Don’t worry,” Cesar told me, a brandy in his hand and a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, “You’ll finish your studies in California. New York, maybe. Or maybe you go to Harvard. How would you like that?” It was all bullshit, but Cesar was firm. I had known this man all of my life, literally since I was born I knew uncle Cesar. Now, suddenly he was a stranger. My father told me with a bleary smile,

  “It’s all been arranged. It’s going to be great, you’ll see.” Mama wouldn’t look at me. I couldn’t believe it. But, next morning at dawn, eight of us were woken up by Cesar and four huge American biker guys bundled us, tired and half asleep into the back of a truck. The bikers were nice enough and polite, but they were brisk and, however friendly they seemed, they all carried those little black machine pistols. One biker, big bear of a man with evil, narrow shades and frizzy ginger hair tied back, sat in back with us. He had a black kerchief knotted around his head, and a heavy leather bike jacket with lots of zippers and tassels on all of them. It had its own belt and, like his boots, it jingled when he moved. He sat on a trunk by the door with a big, shiny pump-action shotgun by his side. Lola, naturally, bottle-blonde, big-eyed Lola of the push-up and stilettos slid onto the trunk by his side. She was whispering in his ear in no time, then she had her hand on his thigh, then sliding up and down his stomach. Up under the heavy motorcycle jacket. Before long her hand got lost behind the huge, jingling buckle on his wide leather belt and down the front of the biker’s jeans.

  As we bumped on the road, my cousin Raimunda told me that uncle Cesar had paid more than a thousand US dollars for each of us, to get us across the border. Given the money in cash to the American biker gang. She said, “Cesar’s no fool, you know that,” And that was certainly true. But why
would he want to spend money, and so much money, to get all of us into the US? And why only the girls? And why were his two daughters not in the truck with us? Raimunda said, “I had been thinking about that. Maybe he wants to see that it all works out before he sends Ana and Paola.”

  “Maybe.” I said. Lola by now was sitting real close to the ginger-haired biker. Her hand was way down his pants and his hands were in the low scoop of her top. She was giggling and batting her eyelids and I figured we were in for a major performance pretty soon. “Poor little Lola,” I said to Raimunda, “Hasn’t got a clue.”

  “Always thinking of herself,” said Raimunda. Most girls resented Lola to some extent. Understandably, but I thought it was a shame.

  “She’s just trying to protect herself, as always, but that guy? She’s wasting her time.”

  Raimunda asked, “Why do you say that?”

  Lola was working the guy’s zipper down. We would be seeing her sticking his cock in her throat soon. I said,

  “Two reasons. One, we’re going to see that biker’s happy face in about four minutes.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “He’s not like the boys in our village. Guy like that, his happy face is the display that says, ‘system reset. Memory purge.’ By the time his eyes open again, he’ll have forgotten who she is.” Raimunda didn’t look convinced. “Look at him,” I said, “A blowjob is like a free beer to him. He won’t ever turn it down, but it’s hardly a life-changing moment.” Raimunda’s eyebrows rose. Lola was giving the biker a naughty girl, ooh, do I dare giggle as her arm was slowly sliding up and down into his pants. The biker’s hips were starting to roll.

  I said to Raimunda, “If you want to fix an idea in a guy’s head, especially a hard man like that biker, you better get the thought well nailed in before you get him all hot and humping.”

  His hand was finding its way up her short, plaid skirt and into her white panties, and her hips bucked.

  Raimunda couldn’t help licking her lips. Me either. She said, “What’s the other reason?”

  I said, “Mm?”

  “You said there were two reasons.”

  “Oh, she’s wasting a good blowjob. These are just delivery boys, I doubt we’ll see them again after the border.”

  Sure enough, out came the biker’s cock, with some wiry ginger pubes. Short, fat, hard cock with an upward curve. First Lola licked around the head. Then she blew down the length of the underside. She cupped his balls and squeezed gently a few times and the guy couldn’t keep still. She stroked the bottom of his balls and along to the very back of his sack and the biker’s head was rolling back. He was tilting his hips and writhing, he went to grab Lola’s hair, but she brushed his hand away gently. She made a ring of her hand to hold his balls and his cock from the very hilt, and she licked slowly and real softly along both sides.

  She kept it up, gently touching, blowing and teasing, then she slowly slipped her lips over the head of it. Her head went down and then up, sucking as she plucked her lips all the way off. She paused for a moment before her head slipped down again and then up. She waited a little longer this time, then gently slipped over his shaft again, holding his balls from behind as she did. Lola did this slowly and gently, stroking him with her hand, gently squeezing his balls, blowing her hot, damp breath on the length of his cock.

  The biker’s head was moving from side to side as Lola sucked his balls one at a time before she took his cock into her mouth again, slowly and gently. This time she went deeper. His fingers shoved her panties aside and pressed up into the wet crevice between her swelling lips.

  Her mouth was going much farther down his cock, and her tongue was out, sliding down the underside, reaching to flick at his balls. Down she went and up. Down again, each time more slowly but a little deeper, then up. The biker’s feet stamped and his groans were rhythmic and loud. Then Lola plunged her head all the way down, got him into her throat, gagged herself and slammed her head down and down and down. His hips sprang upwards into her face. His hand grabbed her hair. He shoved his cock in and out of her throat so hard it looked like he might choke her. Then she grabbed his buttocks to pull him in and hold him. His shades fell off and his eyes were wild as he came in her mouth. She stayed down, sucking and slurping and lip-smacking every little drop of that biker’s cum.

  Raimunda and I looked at each other. I said, “Okay, he might remember that one.”

  Uncle Cesar’s little girls weren’t with us when we climbed down from the back of the truck. They weren’t given plastic boxes to carry, two each, and sent down the long, deep tunnel, crawling one by one through wet muck on their hands and knees.

  Cesar’s lovely daughters Ana and Paola didn’t drag themselves up a ladder, wet, frightened and cold into a foreign desert at night. They weren’t herded into an echoing shipping container on the back of a big freight rig. Locked in for thirty-six hours or more. A cage in the back where the plastic boxes we’d carried were locked up. When we finally stopped, bikers came in to get the boxes before they let any of us out of the container.

  And, at the end in that dusty nowhere, who knows where, in a big wooden one-story shed with what sounded like a barroom at the far end, Ana and Paola were not there with me, Raimunda, Lola, Inez and the others to be told that now they were going to have to ‘work their passage.’

  The big biker drew his thumb down over his bottom lip. Looked at me for a long time. He said, “I’m not going to force you. I don’t need that. I’ll say to Jake that I did, it’ll be okay. Tell me what you want me to say that I did. I’ll square Jake.”

  I stood my ground and said, “You can tell him that you forced me. Grabbed a hold of me. Tore my shirt,” I balled the front of the tee in my hand. Pulled downwards. Hard. The cotton made a slow rasp as I tore it. Tore a strip out of the front. Now my breasts swung bare. I took his hand. Put it on my breast. Pressed it there. Hard.

  “Say that you squeezed my tits. Felt the warmth and heft. Twisted my nipples till they stung. Till they got good and hard.” I reached up and hung my arms around his neck. Looked down as I ground my hips against his leg. Felt the muscles of his leg as I gripped it between the tops of my thighs. I said, “Why not tell Jake that you pulled my pants open and pushed your fingers inside me.” I rubbed and rocked my mound up and down on his leg. Hard. Then ground my hips into his. Round and round. “Say you pushed your fingers inside me. That even though I struggled and fought, I was swollen and wet.” The bulge in his pants stirred and swelled. I felt it with my clit. Rubbed along it, over it. Felt the bulge hardening.

  “Why don’t you say you made me open your pants.” I undid his heavy silver buckle. Popped his fly buttons.

  I reached into the front of his pants. I said, “Say you made me put my hand in,” I gripped the girth of his big, hot cock. Pulled along the length of it. I put his hand in the back of my long, dark brown hair. “You can tell him that you forced me down.” I knelt in front of him. Hauled out his hot cock. “Tell him you beat it on my face. Banged it on my tongue. Shoved it in my mouth. Pushed it all the way into my throat.” I looked up into his eyes, “Tell him that you made me gag on it.” I put my lips over his bulb, tasted the sweet precum. Pushed my mouth down the length of it. Swallowed his long, fat shaft.

  Felt my tongue forced down under the hot ridges of it. Felt it glide through my soft, wet mouth until it met the back of my throat. My head filled with the dark taste of his musk. I put my hand on his, on the back of my head. Pressed. Hard. Sweet saliva gushed in my mouth as the hot, slick head of his cock breached into my throat. His other hand came round to the back of my head then. Yes, I thought, YES. He grabbed my hair. Hard.

  My hands felt the knots of his strong, clenching thighs. Slid around to his hard round ass as it drove his cock hard, deep into my throat. In an out. Hot. Pulsing. Christ, what a gorgeous ass. I sucked. I was hot between my legs. And wet. I wanted my hands on my pussy. Or him. But now I was too busy. Sucking on his throbbing cock.

  His long shaf
t plowed into my mouth, reamed down my throat, slid back to my lips, then drove in again. Again and again. Harder. Deeper. Till my nose reached his pubes and his balls slapped on my chin. Faster now. His hips thrust and his ass clenched hard as he fucked my face. The hard cock began to swell and pulse rhythmically and his cum exploded into my wet, hungry mouth. He pumped hot, salty spunk into my mouth and my throat. Pumped until it dribbled out of my lips.

  I stood to face him. Looked in his eye as I pushed the little dribble of cum with my finger. Pushed it up onto my tongue. Lapped it up and then licked my lips. Swallowed. Slowly.

  He lifted me. Put his hands under my buttocks and lifted me onto the table. Yanked down the zipper of my denim cut-offs and pulled my little black panties aside. I saw that he smelled my perfume the same time as it hit my nose. His lip curled as he bowed his head towards my lap. As I watched his mouth draw nearer to the scent of my hot crotch I fidgeted my ass towards him. My nipples pointed and swelled out of the torn rags of my tee.

  He looked up as he said, “Shall I tell Jake that I licked and sucked on the nub of your clit?”

  I said, “No.”

  He said, “Or that I pushed my tongue up between your thick, soft lips, deep into your pussy?”

  “No,”

  “That I dragged my fingers inside you, my wrist between your clenching thighs? Pulled my fingers forward, grazed the fold in there, found the spot that makes you spring?”