Hitman's Desire: A Bad Boy Romance

by Riley, Megyn

  He pulls them down my smooth thighs, over my knees. They drop past my calves and pool around my ankles. I feel the cool air hit my wetness.

  I step out of my panties as he pulls them over my stiletto heels. He stuffs them in his coat pocket. A souvenir, perhaps? Then his soft lips find the inside of my thighs.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. This kind of thing never happens to me.

  His tongue traces its way up my inner thigh to my core. But he deliberately circles around the very spot I want his tongue the most. He kisses and licks everywhere but there. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And it’s sending me through the roof.

  I’m dripping wet.

  Finally, his tongue grazes my clit. My knees go week, and I almost collapse. He parts my lips with his tongue and flicks and sucks. A firm hand reaches around and grabs my ass cheek. The other hand works my inner thigh. Then his meaty fingers spread my lips, and one gently works its way inside my tight core.

  It feels amazing. Cole would never fool around with me in an elevator. Much less go down on me. Anywhere. Cole’s idea of an exotic location was the couch. And even that was a rarity.

  I’m bucking and convulsing as this man licks and fingers. I’ve absolutely lost my mind. The people in the neighboring building are getting a helluva show—if they’re watching.

  This gorgeous man slides up my body, and our lips melt into each other. I taste my sweet juices on his tongue. I’m sweating. My heart is racing. I want him inside of me.

  NOW!

  But I don’t get dessert just yet. First, an appetizer.

  His hands are on my shoulders, pushing me down to my knees. He’s fully hard now, and I can tell it’s big. My hands undo his belt buckle, then my fingers unbutton his pants. I clasp his zipper and tug down.

  Zip.

  Zip.

  Zip.

  My fingers pull the tab lower, exposing his boxer briefs. I stroke his bulge, over the cotton fabric. Holy fuck, this thing is huge. It’s like an anaconda.

  I put my lips on his shaft and glide my way up to the head, teasing him through the cotton. His length twitches with excitement.

  My fingers slip inside the designer waistband, and I pull the fabric down. His magnificent cock springs free.

  OH, MY, GOODNESS!

  He may have been right. I don’t know if I can handle him. I’ve never seen anything like this—at least, not in real life. I grip his thick shaft and my tiny hand can’t even cover the circumference of it.

  But I’ll give it the old college try.

  I can’t believe I’m going to suck this guy’s dick where the whole world can see. I’ve never sucked cock before. I’ll have to pretend like I know what I’m doing. I’ve watched porn before. I’ll just do my best impression of a porn star. I’m sure he’ll let me know if I’m terrible. How embarrassing would that be? Uh, excuse me, could you please stop? I’d be mortified if he said that.

  I never really had a desire to give Cole head. But for some reason, I want this guy in my mouth. I want to taste every inch of him.

  If the people in my office could see this, I’d lose my job for sure. My boss would probably have a heart attack. Or a hard on. Or both. Sweet, innocent little Scarlett, acting like a whore in public.

  My hand strokes his thick, veiny shaft. Pre-cum is already dripping from the tip. I lick his sweet nectar with a flick of my velvety tongue. I tease his head with quick licks.

  I can’t pretend to resist any longer. I swirl my slippery tongue around his mushroom like tip and wrap my full lips around his mammoth shaft. My plump lips glide over his throbbing cock until it’s tickling the back of my throat. The elevator fills with the sound of me sucking and slurping. Saliva drips from my lips. I trace his length down and tickle his balls with my tongue.

  He growls with pleasure. I keep sucking and stroking and licking and flicking. He sure seems like he’s enjoying this. I know I am. He hasn’t stopped me, so I must be doing something right. His dick is rock hard.

  With a fistful of my hair, he pulls my head away from his cock. I look up at him with big eyes. My mouth wide. A trail of saliva streams from my lips to the head of his cock. I’m about to ask if I was doing something wrong?

  “Don’t make me cum too quick.” His hungry eyes gaze at me. There is no doubt he is turned on.

  I can’t help but grin a little—not bad for my first time out.

  He lifts me to my feet and spins me around. One hand grabs my hip, while the other presses against my back, bending me over. I clasp the railing on the wall. Am I really bending over, spread eagle for this guy? Is this really about to happen?

  I hear the fabric of his coat rustle as he digs in a pocket. After a moment, I hear the foil of the condom wrapper tear. He rips it open and tosses the empty wrapper on the floor. With one hand, he expertly unrolls it down his giant length.

  He reaches out and grabs a fistful of my hair. He pulls my head back and my ass arches out. Then he does something unspeakably evil. He teases me to no end. I feel his thickness between my legs, tracing my inner thighs. Then his head rubs against my clit. He taps it a few times, sparking jolts of pleasure. Then his head parts my wet hot lips, circling my opening.

  “Beg,” he says.

  What? Did he just ask me to beg for it? “No.”

  He pulls away. “I guess you don’t want this?”

  I’ve never wanted anything more. My pussy quivers and aches for him. “Fuck you.”

  “Feisty. I like that.”

  I feel his fat head part my lips again. This time, the tip sneaks slightly inside of me. I feel a fullness I’ve never felt before. I panic a little. My heart is racing. I don’t know if I can take something that big. But God, how I want to try.

  “Beg,” he says again, that devilish smirk on his face.

  “I don’t beg,” I say. Who the fuck is this guy? He’s confident, I’ll give him that.

  He starts to pull away again.

  “No,” I yelp. Okay. He’s confident and hot. And extremely hard.

  I feel him push forward again, teasing the tip inside.

  “If you want the best fuck of your life, you’ll beg for it.”

  “I hate you.” Fuck pride. I want him inside me. Now. “Please,” I moan.

  “Please what?”

  “Please. Fuck me.”

  “I don’t believe you want it.”

  “Please, fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.” Before I can finish the words, I’m filled with his huge length. I gasp. The sensation is indescribable. At first, it almost hurts, but that melts into pure pleasure as he strokes in and out. I feel every ripple and vein in his cock.

  He yanks back hard on my hair, while pounding into me. I scream with pleasure. I’m sure anyone waiting for the elevator can hear. But I don’t care.

  I push off the railing, trying to keep my face from slamming into the elevator wall as he rams into me. Each stroke sends waves of ecstasy rushing through my body.

  I look back over my shoulder and watch him stroke me deep. He’s 100% man. Pure testosterone. He keeps thrusting in and out. He plunges so deep, I can almost feel it in my throat.

  His chest and abs ripple and flex as he plunges deep inside me. The dragon on his chest writhes and undulates. I imagine it would breathe fire if it could. I’m certainly burning up with passion. Every nerve in my body feels electric.

  He’s right. I’ve never been fucked like this before.

  “Are you okay?” he says, in a surprising display of sensitivity.

  “Don’t stop,” I breathe.

  “Just making sure its not too much for you.” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice. Cocky son-of-a-bitch.

  “Don’t hold back,” I say. “Give me everything you’ve got.” I may regret that, but it sounds like the right thing to say. I know I’m never doing this again with him, so I might as well get the full treatment. “Fuck me like you bought me on the street.”

  “Oh, I will, sweetheart. I will.” He grins like a de
mon. Then he starts brutally punishing my tight little pussy. In a good way. As if he wasn’t hammering before, he’s pummeling me now. And I love it. He doesn’t hold back. My brain starts to scramble. I couldn’t even tell you my name if you asked me.

  I’m dripping wet, and he starts smacking my ass randomly as he thrusts. Its pleasure mixed with a spark of pain. My juices flow all over him. His brutal pounding penetrates me without mercy. He reaches a hand around and fingers my clit as he pumps. It sends me over the top. I clench down and flood orgasmic waves. My Body writhes and convulses. I never knew I could feel this way. I never knew my body was capable of such pleasure. I feel every throbbing inch of him.

  I look over to the reflection in the glass and watch in awe as he repeatedly sinks into me. His hands grip me tight, slamming me into him. He groans and I feel his cock bloom as he explodes inside the condom. Its warmth fills me.

  He twitches inside me for a few moments, then slips himself out. I feel high with a rush of endorphins. I start to compose myself, pulling my dress down over my hips. Scooping it up over my tits.

  This adonis of a man pulls up his pants and tucks in his torn shirt.

  I’m suddenly embarrassed and have no clue what to say. I’ve never done anything like this before. Certainly never had mind blowing sex in an elevator. “Well, that was… fun.”

  “We’re just getting started, sweetheart.” He switches off the emergency stop button. The elevator jolts into motion.

  You mean there’s more?

  4

  Scarlett

  Lots more. I lose count of how many times we have sex. Cole’s never even gone twice in one night. This is completely new territory for me.

  My adonis makes me blow him in the cab.

  At my apartment, we don’t make it past the entryway. Then we hit the kitchen. The couch. And twice in the bedroom. Completely drained, I fall asleep in his powerful arms—passed out in that post sex coma. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.

  In the morning, I reach my hand across the bed to feel for him, but my grasp comes up with empty sheets. They’re cold. I feel a twinge in my gut. But I didn’t really expect him to be here in the morning. It’s probably for the best anyway. I don’t think my body could take another round of morning sex. I’m actually a little sore, but I don’t mind.

  I feel exhilarated and guilty all at once. My eyes scan the messy room. It looks like a tornado hit this place. The sheets are all askew. My dress, panties, and shoes trail in from the living room. Empty condom wrappers, like bread crumbs, lead the way to the front door.

  My face falls into my hands, and I shake my head and laugh. What an amazing night. Scarlett, you’re such a slut. I don’t have an excuse, other than he was incredibly hot. I wasn’t drunk. I can’t blame it on that. No big deal. Not like this is an everyday occurrence. I’m going to get up, get dressed for work, and pretend this never happened. Although, I am filing this away in the fantasy memory section of my brain. It will come in handy on those lonely nights when I need inspiration.

  It’s a good thing I don’t know his name or number. I have a feeling I would turn into a stalker. He was a total player anyway. It would only lead to heartache. Hell, a guy like that has to have a girlfriend. Or ten. He might even be married for all I know. That’s just what I need. No. It’s absolutely for the best that I don’t know how to get a hold of this guy.

  My eyes fall on the clock on the nightstand.

  SHIT.

  I’m late. Murphy is going to have my ass. And not in a good way.

  I crawl out of bed and stumble into the shower. Then I get dressed, grab my badge and gun, and head to the office. Of course there’s traffic. The President is in town and his motorcade has ground traffic to a standstill.

  By the time I get to the field office, Murphy is waiting with a scowl.

  “Special Agent Fox, so good of you to join us.” His gruff voice pierces my ears.

  The office is a beehive of activity. Agents scurry about. Computer screens flash. Keyboards clack.

  “Sorry, got caught up in the motorcade.”

  “I don’t give a shit what your excuse is,” he barks. “You show up late again, you’ll be running security at the local mall. You understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Murphy is mid 50s, salt and pepper grey hair, and a permanent frown carved into his face. He has two moods—pissed off and mean. But he’s a good agent. He was one of my dad’s close friends. He’s always looked out for me. Sometimes I think he’s harder on me, just so it doesn’t look like he’s playing favorites.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Vic Falco was murdered.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  Murphy scowls at me. “Maid discovered the body at his suite in the Williams Tower. Local law enforcement is at the scene now. Get over there and see what you can find out. Take Parker with you.”

  I roll my eyes. Parker is a blue flamer straight out of Quantico. He’s got his nose up everyone’s ass. And nobody likes a kiss ass. Parker is a little on the chubby side, with a buzz cut and blue eyes. He’s the kind of guy who thinks he’s better looking than he is. He’s not a bad agent, but he can be just a little bit annoying.

  Murphy senses my lack of empathy that a notorious mob boss has been killed. But it’s not like the world is worse off. Though, there will be some people who miss him.

  Falco was one of those guys who always gave back to the community. You wouldn’t think it, but Falco actually did some good deeds. He was always feeding the poor, giving out clothes, handing out turkeys on Thanksgiving day. The neighborhood loved him. He kept petty crime off the streets in his territory. Old ladies could walk down the street at night without fear of being mugged. Cars didn’t get broken into. Apartments didn’t get burglarized. Nobody made a move on Falco’s turf without his approval. He concentrated on bigger criminal enterprises. Things that made real money. He was a smart guy. It was impossible to get anyone to testify against him. Nobody wanted to give up the protection that he offered.

  “Falco’s people are going to want revenge. This is going to start a gang war,” Murphy says.

  “Let the animals shoot each other up as far as I’m concerned,” I say.

  “What about the innocent people who get caught in the crossfire?

  Murphy's got a point. These mob killers aren’t known for restraint. Just last week someone from the Salerno family took out a rival underboss at a local pizzeria. Instead of just taking out the target, they blew up the entire restaurant. 37 people were killed. They found pepperoni slices three blocks away. I kid you not.

  “The annual Summit is tomorrow,” Murphy says. “Right now, that has the potential to turn into a blood bath. Sort this thing out.”

  “What’s the annual Summit?” Parker asks.

  Murphy raises an incredulous eyebrow at him. “Do your homework, Parker.”

  I smirk. I can’t help but enjoy the fact that this little brown-noser, who thinks he knows everything, doesn’t know much at all.

  Parker and I make our way over to the Williams Tower. It’s a luxury high-rise on the upper east side. Falco has the penthouse sweet. Or, I should say, had. It overlooks the park with a stunning panoramic view. Floor to ceiling windows. A month’s rent in this apartment is more than I make in a year. The place is swarming with cops, and I cringe at how bad they are contaminating the crime scene.

  A rookie from the 23rd precinct stops us at the door. He’s got a cocky smirk on his face. I want to slap it off. I flash my credentials. “Agent Fox, FBI.”

  He scowls and steps aside.

  The apartment is a beehive of activity. Detective Frank Dodd barks at me as I step into the living room. “What the hell are you doing in my crime scene?”

  “Special Task Force on Organized Crime,” I say, flashing my credentials.

  He grits his teeth in disgust. He’s a short, pudgy, bald guy with a mustache and pocked skin. “We don’t need any help, thank you.”

  �
�We’ve had Falco under investigation for murder, racketeering, drug trafficking, you name it. You want to fight about jurisdiction, you’ll lose.”

  Dodd’s beady eyes stare me down. Then he finally relents. “The body is this way.”

  He leads us into the bedroom. It’s a beautiful apartment—hardwood floors, stunning vistas, high ceilings. But it is garishly decorated. It’s what happens when someone has too much money and no taste.

  Falco’s naked body is sprawled across the bed in a pool of crusted blood. Crimson splatter speckles the white satin sheets. He was a good looking man, before the blood drained out of him. Mid 40s, dark hair, brown eyes, chiseled body.

  “He got hit with two slugs in the back of the head. Small caliber. Professional hit,” Dodd says.

  There are two brass shell casings on the floor, marked with evidence tags. “Not very professional to leave brass behind. Got a time of death?” I ask.

  “The medical examiner puts it around 5 or 6pm yesterday. Give or take.”

  “Anybody see anything?”

  “Nobody saw shit. And if they did, they ain’t talking.”

  “Pull the security tapes,” I say to Agent Parker.

  “I’m already on it,” Dodd says. “I’ll send copies over.”

  “What was he doing in bed at 5pm?” Parker asks.

  “Getting laid,” I say, examining the rumpled sheets. “Looks like someone else was with him at the time.” There are blonde strands of hair in the satin sheets. “Get these over to forensics.”

  “Trust me. I’ll handle it and share my full report.” Dodd has an insincere tone in his voice.

  “You’ll let me know as soon as you get prints off those shell casings,” I say.

  “Of course,” Dodd says with a forced smile.

  I smile back at him. “Good. Then I’ll leave things in your capable hands. Let’s go, Parker.” I spin around and strut out of the apartment.