by Zoey Parker
And as soon as that idea struck me, I was hooked on it. “Madeline,” I ground out, my voice so low and gravelly that it was barely even able to form words. “Look at me.” Her eyes snapped open and focused on me, but that wasn’t what I meant. “No, look at me. At where we’re joined. At where I claim you over and over again.”
Her eyes widened, as though she’d never watched before as a man drove into her, and I took some pleasure in knowing we were doing something new together. Hesitant, her blush furious, her eyes darted between her bodies and when she caught sight of me plowing into her already swollen lips, she let out an “Oh!” of surprise.
And that was it. All it took to finally push me over the edge. I bucked into her maybe a half a dozen more times, but I could already feel myself unraveling inside of her. I spilled myself, buried as deep as I could, hips pressed into hers, and when I was finally emptied, she was so full that some of it had to slip out.
***
We were exhausted enough to take a break, but I wasn’t done with her. I hadn’t anticipated wanting more than a quick lay from her, but now that I’d had a taste, I found myself just wanting more. A lot more.
So, I fed her by way of ordering Chinese takeout and gave her root beer—because it was nonalcoholic and I knew now that she was too much of a lightweight for something like wine—to wash it down with. We didn’t talk about anything important beyond a little bit about where she was from—a farm out in the country somewhere, growing up with her dad and her brother, her mother dead—which was less about getting to know each other as it was about letting my hand slip between her thighs again.
Before we’d even really finished out food, I was all over her again. I was groping her ass and her breasts, manhandling her, maybe a little rougher than I should have been, but she never gave a word of protest. No, in fact all her noises were encouraging, begging even. She wanted everything I was giving her and more.
This time I pushed her to the luxurious bathroom and into the shower, the hot water cascading our bodies and washing away the dried sweat from earlier. I took the careful time to wash her and even let her do the same to me—she was getting braver beneath my hands, going so far as to slide her own palm over my lengthening shaft to wash it. By the time we were done with the soap, I had her pushed up against the cool tile wall so I could slide into her from behind.
She groaned and moaned and cried out, begging me to continue, lost in the feeling of me buried deep inside of her.
Not that I could blame her. I wasn’t much better. I was grunting, making guttural sounds of pleasure as I pounded into her, my hands gripping her hips and ass so tightly that there might even be bruises tomorrow.
Something told me she wouldn’t mind.
By the time I was spent, we’d both come again and we were both so exhausted that I had no problem with her sliding up next to me in bed and falling asleep with her head against my chest. It wasn’t normally my thing and I mustered just enough energy to worry that it would cause undue attachment come morning, but then I drifted off anyway and indulged in a little closeness with the woman beside me.
It wouldn’t last—no one wanted a contract killer as the romantic lead in their life—but for tonight, it would do.
Chapter 5
Madeline
When I woke up the next morning, it took me a moment to realize where I was. But only a moment, because then I realized a warm body was pressed up against my backside, strong arms wrapped around my middle, a large hand settled precariously close to my most private parts. And then there was the soreness. An almost dull ache between my legs and a soreness in my thighs as though I’d just been doing lunges for half the day yesterday. And I was pretty sure I had bruises in a couple of different places.
That all probably should have upset me, but as I recalled the events of the previous night, I couldn’t really let it.
Nikolai had been an incredible lover.
A part of me niggled, trying to make me feel guilty about what had happened. I’d gone to a bar and had a drink, let a stranger take me home, and then let him do all kinds of private, even dirty things to me.
He put his mouth on me, I thought to myself, feeling a blush race across my bare flesh. It wasn’t that I didn’t know about these kinds of things, I just hadn’t…well, hadn’t done them before. I never would have thought that a guy would want to slide his tongue across my nether lips.
But Nikolai had. And it had been amazing. All of it had been amazing.
He was bigger than I’d been expecting, so much so I’d nearly begun to panic, but he was so careful, taking his time with my body until I adjusted to his considerable size. At least, I thought it was considerable. Surely not all men were as…well-endowed as Nikolai was.
It doesn’t matter, I thought happily, snuggling up closer to him by wiggling my rear against his crotch where it was already nestled tightly. I’m here with him. I don’t need to know what other men look like.
And that was the truth. Yes, I had done this all backwards. I should have taken the time to get to know Nikolai better first. Then we could have dated for a while and maybe he would have eventually asked me to marry him. After the wedding, that was when this night should have happened, and that did make me feel just a little bit guilty.
My parents had instilled a very specific set of values in me, after all, and last night had gone against just about all of them. Sex was a special, private thing to be shared only with the person you were going to spend the rest of your life with. I knew I should have waited, but I’d never felt that sort of need for a man before, and even if we did it backwards, it could still work out all right, right?
I had convinced myself of how this all would work out when I felt something stir, growing hard between the cheeks of my rear end. A blush blossomed across my cheeks, even after all we had done the night before. Twice. I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to do, but despite my soreness, well, I wouldn’t mind having another amorous encounter with Nikolai’s manhood.
He began to stir behind me, letting out a gruff grunt that whispered through my hair. His arm slung across my middle, his hand slipping over my body to come up and cup my breast. I groaned softly at the contact. My body responded by arching my back and pushing my rear farther into his crotch. By this time, he was definitely hard, just as he’d been the night before, and my breath caught at the thought that, perhaps, this would happen again.
“Good morning,” he said in a low, husky voice.
I smiled a little, looking over my shoulder at him. “Good morning. I…um, had a really good time last night,” I told him shyly, because I didn’t really know what you were supposed to do after. Especially in this situation. If we were married already, maybe it would be different, but we weren’t and this was a tentative area. There was so little we knew about each other and it would take time to forge memories and connections, but I was eager to start.
He laughed a little at me; I could feel it rumbling through his chest and vibrating back through me. It was delicious.
“Mm. Me, too. But I think we need some more practice.” He pressed himself against me and rubbed so he was sliding between my cheeks, though he hadn’t pushed into me again. “Don’t you?”
Which was incredibly erotic, but I was a little saddened by his words. “Oh. I’m sorry about that. I…I mean, I was hoping you wouldn’t know that it was my first time, but I can learn whatever you prefer and—”
I didn’t get any farther than that. Suddenly, Nikolai stopped rubbing and his hand released my breast. It took just a second more, and then he was throwing back the covers, pulling away from me.
Confused, I rolled over and sat up so I could see him better. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking tense, maybe even angry.
“Nikolai?” I asked, concerned. I reached for him, but when my hand brushed his bare, muscular shoulder, he flinched and shot up to a standing position. My eyes trailed down his body of their own accord, admiring his tapered waist and hi
s firm, muscled backside. I’d never thought I would like the way a man’s butt looked, but I did. I wanted to curl my hands around it and urge him into me.
“Sorry,” he said curtly, suddenly. He began to pull on a pair of pants and I wondered what he was doing. Was he going somewhere?
“What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling the covers up to my chest to cover myself, feeling the shift in the morning and knowing that, somehow, I’d done something wrong.
He shook his head once, but didn’t look at me. “Nothing. I just can’t lie around in bed all day. I can’t afford to be lazy. I have work, a job, you know?”
I frowned. A moment ago, he’d been thrilled with the idea of staying in bed with me, hadn’t he? Sure, he’d said I needed practice, but…well, I thought he was willing to be part of that practice. His erection had certainly hinted at that.
“But—”
He dragged a shirt on, covering his bare, godlike chest as he interrupted me. He still wouldn’t look at me. “I have somewhere to be. There’s coffee if you want, but I have to go.”
Then he turned away and walked out. A few moments later, I heard the door slam behind me and I understood what it meant: time to go. A wash of sadness and embarrassment—worse, shame—rolled through me like a tidal wave, admonishing me silently for what I’d done.
This was why you didn’t go home with strangers. This was why it should always be marriage before sex. This was why the rest of the world was so horrid.
I shook a little as I clutched the sheet to my chest, staring at the spot where I’d last seen Nikolai, as though maybe he might be just kidding or confused and turn around and come back. Maybe this was a test to see if I would leave, or a joke.
But all of my ridiculous ideas were just that: ridiculous.
I had been dismissed. More than that, I’d been given the cold shoulder, making it perfectly clear that I was no longer welcome here in his apartment or in his bed. A sorrowful cry rang through me, but I quickly put a stopper on it. There was no point in crying, especially since I still had to catch a cab home.
So, I slid out of bed and searched for my clothing, dragging the sheet around with me so I wouldn’t have to do it naked. Though I was alone, I was no longer comfortable being undressed here in this apartment. I found my dress quickly, but it took longer to find the bra. I spent probably ten minutes looking for my panties before finding them and promptly realizing they were no longer wearable. They were mere tatters of fabric now and I knew I would have to go home without wearing any at all.
Hot embarrassment raced through me again as I got my bra and dress on. It seemed like a flimsy, racy outfit now in the light of day with the bed in disarray behind me, making my shame so much worse.
How could I have been so stupid?
After squashing a last, fleeting hope in which I leave my number and he gets back to me, I left the apartment, called a cab, and waited just outside the lobby doors until he arrived. I tried not to look guilty when I slid in, giving him my address, but I felt as though he knew. He had to.
Sliding down low in the seat, I closed my eyes and held back the tears.
Chapter 6
Nikolai
Present Day
I was getting closer to the wholesome kid carpenter whose head Mickey wanted served on a silver platter. My time was running out if I wanted that bonus, but, more importantly, it was becoming a matter of pride to find him.
Every time it seemed like I was getting closer to Logan, it was a dead end. But not in the truest sense of the word. He’d have been there just moments before, and then he was gone. Seen at a bar? I’d hear squealing tires and the sound of a bottle being thrown out a window. Eating at a restaurant? They’d be clearing the table as I walked in. Had reservations at a hotel? Already checked out.
So close, yet somehow slipping through my fingers. A large part of that was due to the obvious need for subtlety. I wasn’t about to kill anyone out in the open, not if I didn’t think I could get a clear shot and walk away. And I wasn’t going to have a high-speed chase with a drunk kid who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Too many bystanders, and bystanders meant police, and police meant attention—for me and for Mickey. I was hired to be discreet, and that was exactly what I would be.
The second reason I was being maybe a little more cautious with taking a shot with him was wholly different: I needed to know where the money was.
There was a good chance he had it on him, or at the very least in the car or hotel with him, because that would be the stupid thing to do.
Hiding the money did two things: it meant that if he were caught by anyone—the mob or the police—he could have plausible deniability; no money, clearly, they couldn’t be the culprits. It also meant if there was a price out on his head, which clearly there was, whoever was out to kill him, namely me, would have to interrogate him instead of just killing him outright. It bought him time, even if it might involve a lot of bad pain.
Since those two things qualified as smart things to do, I was inclined to think Logan hadn’t considered either of them. Maybe it was the fact that he’d stolen from the mob, or maybe it was that he’d killed a man in the process, but Logan didn’t really strike me as the intelligent type.
“Of course, for a stupid man, he’s awfully good at running,” I muttered to myself as I checked the clip in my gun before getting out of the car. Probably, I was once again too late. I sincerely doubted he was still here, but I wasn’t going in there unprotected.
I got out of the car, tucking my gun into the waistband of my jeans. The place looked like a real piece of shit from the outside and I had the sneaking suspicion that inside wouldn’t be much better. The sign out front was blinking in bright red neon. It alternated between Vacancy and No Vacancy and I was pretty sure that wasn’t intentional. I headed inside, pushing through the glass door with the little bell overhead that chimed obnoxiously.
Inside, I was correct. Not particularly classy, but definitely cheap. The lobby was small with a little fat TV, which didn’t appear to be working, set up in the upper right corner attached to the wall, and a front desk that was just big enough for a guestbook, a light, and an old computer that looked like it probably still had a black screen with green lettering. Sitting behind this desk was a woman who was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She had so much makeup on that it was impossible to tell. It looked like she bought out a cosmetics store, then tried to use all of it at once. Her eyes, which were meant to be smoky, looked like a bandit mask and her lips were bright red, but smeared across her jaw on one side, and when she looked up at me and smiled, I saw it was smeared on her teeth, too.
There was every possibility that she was beautiful beneath the makeup, but I would probably never know.
She batted her eyelashes—fake, too, I was pretty sure—at me, telling me instantly what I needed to know: she was a flirt, she already liked me, and she would probably tell me whatever I wanted without much of a fuss.
I smiled at her with my best, sexiest smile. The one I used at the bars to seduce attractive young women. Instantly, I could almost see her melt beneath my gaze.
“Hello,” I greeted, letting my accent slip through a little thicker, because she looked like the kind of woman who would get turned on by it.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her breasts, which were all but pouring from her low-cut tank top, heaving. She stuck a pen in her mouth as she said, “Hi-ya. Did you…need a room? ’Cause I’m sure I can find you one if you’re looking.” She winked at me like maybe she was talking about something else.
“I was actually just looking for my friend,” I said, setting an elbow on the counter and leaning forward. I flashed a bright smile. “But now I think I’ve found something better.” I dragged my eyes over her features, as though to tell her that I was not only pleased by them, but desirous of her. Which I wasn’t. I examined her cleavage, her breasts round and heavy, but sagged slightly as a result. Her waist, from what I could tell, wasn’t huge, bu
t it lacked the gentle curvature of a truly beautiful woman. She seemed to be an odd mix of plushness and hard lines, making all of her features just shy of really attractive. Still, she was probably a decent lay and maybe I would be interested in some extracurricular activities with her later. I hadn’t been with anyone for a while now—not since Madeline, that beautiful, feisty virgin who, try as I might, I couldn’t seem to completely forget about—and it was starting to show. I found myself getting more frustrated, more annoyed.
Yes, a quick roll in the hay would probably do me some good. Still, the woman before me was hardly what I was looking for. Unfortunately, I was now looking for the perfect body attached to bright eyes and a shy smile. Things I’d never been looking for before.
The woman giggled, leaning over farther until I saw the edge of her areola, her nipple trying to escape the confines of the fabric. It was deliberate, of course, but instead of turning me on, I found myself a little put off that she would be so…easy.