Buying Beth_A Dark Romance

by Izzy Sweet

  “Fuck,” Johnathan moans. He fucking moans.

  The most delicious warmth fills me and I squeeze around him so hard he stops moving.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he twitches and jerks above me as I milk the very life out of him.

  “So fucking tight,” he grits out in agony and then stills with a groan.

  His head falls forward and his grip on my hips relaxes. I sag beneath him. I came so hard, so much, my bones feel like liquid.

  Together we pant, catching our breath.

  When he finally looks at me, there’s so much satisfaction in his eyes he’s practically glowing with it.

  His cock twitches inside me and I realize I still feel full and stretched out around him.

  “Again?” I pant.

  He pulls me by the back of the head and brings me closer to his lips. “Again.”

  17

  Johnathan

  “We’ve got the doctor’s place of residence. You and I need to go over and have a heart-to-heart with the man,” Andrew’s deep voice fills my ear.

  “When?”

  “Now. I’m ten minutes out from your house.”

  “It’s two in the fucking morning. When did we get this info?” I grumble as I look over at the clock on the nightstand.

  “Simon just got it about an hour ago. He wants us to act now. Get the info and bring the doc in. And get this… Simon wants to be there at the questioning.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “He wants to be a part of it apparently.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “Yeah, I got your gear loadout from the compound. See you in eighteen minutes.” Andrew disconnects.

  Well, fuck, at least I get to put this bastard’s head through the fucking wall. Motherfucker touched Beth in a way I can’t forgive. Simon, the fucking Spider, being there… Shit. It makes me wonder what the fuck I’m missing.

  It’s going to be a bloody night.

  Rolling out of bed, I push the blankets back around my naked woman. Beth looks too delicious to leave, but if Andrew’s right about the address, then we need to move while it’s still a good lead. We have the warehouse and we have the trucks tagged.

  That doesn’t mean shit though, the trucks haven’t moved and we don’t know why.

  I watch as Beth rolls to her side, the naked flesh of her back calling to me to press my chest back against her. The gentle swell of her hip barely shows, but it’s enough to make my palms itch.

  I want to slide my hand down and pull her juicy ass hard against my cock. Mental images keep flooding my mind as I feel my cock start to stiffen.

  Fuck me, living with her is going to drive me to insanity.

  I can feel the need to press my body all over her, to keep my scent on her as I much as I can. I need to mark her as mine, somehow… maybe a fucking collar or tattoo… Though, I highly doubt she would go for it.

  I quietly go through my drawers and pull out a pair of dark grey cargo pants and an almost black shirt.

  All black isn’t natural in the nighttime, it creates voids in people’s vision, whereas dark colors of grey tend to blend in with just about anything.

  I’ve had a lot of these nights over the years working for Lucifer. I’m used to the calls for sudden deadly violence.

  Tonight, though, feels off. It feels like we’re heading for something more than the normal. I don’t have the hairs on the back of my neck rising, but that’s not always an indicator of something fucking up.

  I kiss Beth on her shoulder quickly before leaving the room. I don’t need to wake her or the boy, so I wait until I’m downstairs to get dressed.

  Outside, Andrew is already waiting for me in an old, but I have no doubt, decked out black Escalade. Lucifer doesn’t allow us to go cheap when it comes to our work vehicles. We have to keep them in shape in case of anything.

  Jumping into the front, I look to the backseat to see my loadout bag ready and waiting. Goody. He’s brought all my favorite toys with him.

  Pulling the tactical vest over my chest, I pull the velcro straps tightly around my waist. Patting the pockets, I make sure I have my brass knuckles securely strapped in.

  “Where we headed?” I ask as Andrew guns the engine out of my subdivision.

  “Over to Derry Township. He’s got one of those sprawling mansion type of spots.”

  “Any intel on what we should be expecting?” I ask as I start checking the clips I’m going to stuff in my vest and tactical pants.

  “Yeah, couple of satellite feeds, but not much. Simon was trying to get a flyover, but couldn’t get us up to date, unfortunately.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, bad timing, I guess. We got a couple of drive-bys going to happen soon. Should get a better idea of the security situation.”

  “What do you think we’ll be running into there?”

  “Light security, is my guess. Maybe a guard or two in the house. Doubt it will be much, they aren’t expecting trouble.”

  “You know I don’t trust easy times,” I grumble as I lean my head back against the headrest.

  “You’re just a grouchy morning person,” Andrew laughs.

  “I’m going to take a nap. Let me know when we’re close,” I say as I recline my seat back.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift over Beth’s naked body. Each curve of her hips. The swell of her breasts capped by pale pink areolas with rock hard nipples. The way her shoulders looked when I pulled her dress down from the top. The barely-there collar bones. Each part of her is a study in beauty and sexuality.

  I’m going to spend years and years pushing my thick cock deep into her pussy, and I don’t think it will be enough

  A rough shove on my shoulder jars me from my dozing, and Andrew says, “Quit fucking snoring. We’re almost there.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I want to bite Andrew’s fucking head off. I was right in the middle of a very good dream of Beth dancing around in a bikini for me.

  It’s still the dead of night outside. The clock shows three-thirty. I watch as Andrew shuts off all the lights in the car using one of our specially designed kill switches. Even the quiet hum of the engine is barely audible over the rolling of tires.

  “Who’s all going in?” I ask with sleep still in my voice.

  “You and me, baby. Lucifer and Simon think we can keep this a quiet affair, so fix the fucking silencers.”

  Pulling my HK MP5 to my chest, I start screwing in the silencer. “No, backup?”

  “I got James on the rifle out past the subdivision. Heh, fucker is in a cellphone tower.”

  With how fucking windy it is, it really does warm my heart to hear he’s fucking suffering with the rest of us.

  Handing over a small plastic box, he says, “Ear comms.”

  Taking out the little piece of plastic, I place it carefully in my ear and say, “Yeah, must have lost my other one.”

  “Dude, we heard the fucking crunch of it.”

  “Yeah, probably stepped on it or something.”

  Shaking his head, he says, “You give Simon indigestion.”

  “Good.”

  Stopping a half of a mile away from the house, Andrew hands over an iPad with pictures of an aerial view of the house. Yeah, he was right, this guy’s got a fucking mansion. Probably has ten bedrooms in the house alone.

  “Got a basement?”

  “Keep looking at the pics, dickhead.”

  Swiping my fingers across the screen, I look at models of the house from when it was up for sale. Pictures of the house with infrared body spots.

  Swiping further, I don’t see anything that answers our questions. Only old, outdated pictures that show nothing but empty rooms. Getting to the end, I find an old blueprint of the house and see it does indeed have a basement.

  Goodie. More places to fucking search through.

  “This shit’s outdated as can be.”

  “Yeah, I know. Simon sends his regrets, but he couldn’t find much else. Whether by design or simply not enough a
vailable information, I don’t know.”

  “Fuckers. This is going to be interesting for just the two of us and a guy in a cellphone tower.”

  “Yeah, Lucifer has been talking lately about our numbers having being spread too thin. Wants to start recruiting.”

  “Shit, that should be fun for you guys.” I can just imagine the files Simon and Lucifer already have on whoever the fuck they are looking at.

  “You’re included in the fun, asshole. Lucifer wants you to let him know if you still have contacts with those crazy IRAs, or the French Foreign Legion.”

  “For the Irish Republican Army, no chance. They have shut all their doors to me. Too much turmoil going on internally and externally from the wars over in Ohio. Lots of splashback. The FFL? Shit, man, I ain’t talked to those fuckers in three years.”

  “You’ve been out what, six years?”

  “Yeah, next month.”

  The French Foreign Legion. Years of sand and heat. Lots of fights for a country that wasn’t even my own. My adult life was pretty fucked up after Mexico. By the time I was finally able to pay my way out of a dirty Mexican prison, I had spent half my family’s inheritance, been stabbed twice, and shot once. Got too many stitches to count, and more than enough time behind bars to last me a lifetime.

  Getting back to the states was almost just as bad. I couldn’t stop seeing all those stabbing knives, the dark eyes full of menace.

  They haunted me no matter how much I drank.

  So I set off to run from all the fucking demons that were chasing me in my head.

  Women, lots of fucking booze, and a string of wrecked hotel rooms landed me in front of a French judge. Salty old hag saw me all fucked up in the head and still reeling from a long bender of booze. She asked me what in the world I was doing. Gave me an offer—join the Legion or get kicked out of the country.

  Stupid me was too drunk to understand I wasn’t even in America.

  I said the Legion.

  Joined up and spent five glorious, shit-filled years with sand in places I can’t even think about without tears welling up in my eyes.

  It wasn’t all bad, though. I learned enough shit to keep myself out of trouble and to stay alive. I also found a shit ton of contacts that weren’t the best of people. Lots of unsavory fellows.

  I went into the FFL a spoiled brat, and came out almost a hardened criminal.

  That’s where Lucifer picked me up. I was running guns in his city and hiring out protection services for anyone who had the money. Some things you can shake when you leave the military, but a taste for danger wasn’t one of them for me. Instead of getting rid of the competition, Lucifer brought me in for an interview.

  I’d heard of him, and the deal he made me had enough zeros on the check to make sure I wanted in. Then he showed me how well he treated his guys and what we could do.

  I haven’t looked back.

  “I’ll put out some feelers. See if anyone over in the Legion are disreputable enough to work with us.”

  “Make sure they aren’t Russians. Lucifer is pretty fucking hard up about the fuckers right now.”

  “Dude, I ain’t saying the French are picky, but the Russians haven’t been welcome with them lately.”

  Placing the tiny bud in my ear, I nod my head. “Check on comms one.”

  “Comms command, good to go,” Simon’s voice fills my head.

  Andrew puts the car back into drive and slowly eases us towards the house.

  “Next time, could you try to stay awake, Johnathan?” Simon grouses at me through the earbud.

  “How the hell did you know I was sleeping?”

  “We heard your loud snoring through the damn ear mics.”

  Snickering, I look to Andrew. “How long was I snoring?”

  “Five fucking minutes. I don’t think you damn Legion boys were taught anything about staying ready for upcoming ops.”

  “Eh, it was more of keeping in a good frame of mind.”

  “Yeah.”

  Pulling up in front of our stopping point, we both exit out of the SUV as quietly as we can. We’re trying to keep this a quiet op, hence we’re coming from the east of the house on a side street between two houses.

  “James, what’s on the thermal scope?” Andrew murmurs.

  “Six bodies, possible seventh underground.”

  “Repeat that shit?”

  Stopping next to Andrew, I nudge him with my elbow. “Basement, asshole. What’s in the fucking box type of shit.”

  Shaking his head, he says, “Simon, we might need another team. I don’t think we have the spots we need to get in and out without causing an issue.”

  “No time,” I quietly say to Andrew. “It’s three-forty.”

  Growling, Andrew says, “Let’s see if we can get thermal on the outside guards, then we’ll see what we’ve got.”

  “Why the fuck are we going into this so empty-handed, Simon?” I ask quietly.

  Through the earbud, he hisses, “The doctor had been considered a minor player. Having four guards and a seventh unknown in the basement was not in the data files.”

  “What the fuck? You’re the fucking Spider… how do you not have this information?” I want to shout but instead I murmur as quietly as I can.

  “It’s being looked into, Johnathan. I promise you that. I also promise you we need this man.”

  “Got it. There’s going to be a body count on this. You said four guards? Possible fifth? That leaves one or two unknowns. What have you got on that?”

  “One in the basement I’ve got no information on. The one in the bedroom, I would say with nighty-nine percent accuracy, is his lover Jeffery Rogers.”

  “Is he a player in our happy little fucking theater?”

  “No, but we can’t use him as leverage either. Leave the body at the house. Gather as much intel as possible.”

  “James, how loud is that cannon you have? Any chance of muzzling the volume?”

  “Eh… not too bad. We don’t have many houses for the sounds to bounce off of. I’ve got a suppressor on, but I’d prefer not to though, if we don’t need it. It’s still going to make some sound.”

  Nodding my head at Andrew, I point to our planned path. We move off at a slow run, no sounds coming from us except for our quiet footfalls.

  Splitting off to the front of the house, I go hunting for the guy walking a slow pace around the front yard.

  Murmuring quietly, I say, “Eyes in the sky would be helpful. Get a fucking drone next time.”

  Removing my tactical knife from my hip harness, I slowly sneak up on the man and wrap my hand over his mouth, then I shove the blade straight into his chest.

  Dead center on the heart.

  Tipping us to the side, we fall with barely a sound. Pulse check gives me nothing. Pulling him to the row of hedges, I squat down beside the body.

  “Target number three down,” Andrew comes through the mic.

  “Target number one down,” I say as well.

  “Stay still, John, you have a roving guard coming your way,” James says with urgency.

  Holding my breath, I watch a guard pass by my location. He’s taking his time as he walks, his face buried in a fucking cellphone of all things.

  Stupid shit.

  Doesn’t he know that will kill any chance he had at seeing me in the dark?

  Slowly stepping away from the dead body, I bring the knife back up.

  A couple of duck waddle steps later, I stand quickly behind him. Holding my hand over his mouth, I quickly push the blade though his chest, just like the last stupid fuck.

  “Target four down, pulling body towards house.”

  “Target two on the side of house, lighting a cigarette.”

  “On my way,” I murmur.

  The fucker I’m carrying isn’t exactly light, so by the time I drop him near the front door, I’ve started panting. Fucking fat bastard.

  “Target two down. Target’s location in house?”

  “Two in the bedr
oom, from the heat signatures I’m getting on my thermal scope. Nothing on the third in basement,” James says through the comms, and I can hear the wind starting to kick up through the microphone.

  Walking three-fourths of a circle around the house, I meet Andrew at the door to the library that has a porch attached to it.

  Nodding my head to him, I notice he’s got a splash of blood on his chest and face.

  “What the fuck?” I ask with a harsh whisper.

  “Fuck off,” he growls right back.

  Snickering, I murmur, “I thought you SEAL boys were professionals.”

  Bending down to the lock, I pull a set of picks from my vest. It’s a quick jiggle and then I’m in like a flash.

  “You and James need to go rob a vault or something. Not natural how well you do that.”

  “Yeah, your mom said the same thing.”

  “She’s dead, ya dumb fuck.”

  “I broke her hip, what do ya expect?”

  Moving through the house, I head to the basement door leading off from the kitchen.

  “Hurry up, I’ll post myself outside of the master bedroom,” Andrew says.

  Opening the door, my hackles instantly rise. Something’s off here and I can smell it from a mile away.

  There’s a fucking steel, prison-type door at the bottom of the stairwell.

  “Gonna need more time,” I murmur.

  “What the fuck for?” Andrew asks back.

  “Simon, you seeing this shit?”

  “Affirmative. Andrew, get ready to take the main target. James, move in. I need you to make your way to basement with Johnathan.”

  “Moving, but I’m ten out at a dead run.”

  “Take your vehicle and move to the house. I’m calling in Harrold for clean up.”

  “Tell him to bring his torch crew. Simon, this shit is smelling to high heaven.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’m heading down the stairs. Going to work on the door.”

  “Careful, Johnathan, check for traps,” Simon says quietly. I don’t think he knows what to expect any more than I do.

  “Will do.”

  Heading slowly down each stair, I look for anything out of place. I mean out of place besides a big fucking steel door that could be used in a prison.

  Standing in front of the door, I look at the lock—it’s a big fucking deadbolt. Those are never an issue, anything can be picked or broken.