In Too Deep

by Fox, Harley

  Trista! What are you doing? This man is a Bullet; he is your enemy! Stop kissing him and get away, right now!

  But I can’t. I can’t stop kissing him, I can’t stop myself from going back, over and over, kiss after kiss after kiss. I feel Flynn’s hands leave my wrists and the thought of escape doesn’t even occur to me. Instead I wrap my arms around him as he finds my front, slides both hands up and down my body, slipping inside the open jacket and making my body tremble with desire.

  I reach up, threading my fingers through Flynn’s short hair as one of his hands moves down to the waist of my jeans, the other one cupping over one of my breasts. I gasp, sucking in air, and Flynn responds by latching his lips onto mine again, kissing me with increased urgency.

  He massages me, making my nipple become hard and sensitive against the cup of my bra. His fingers find it and immediately home in, forcing me to suck in breath to stifle a moan. It’s like liquid pleasure is trickling from his fingertips down the center of my breast, through the core of me and landing right between my legs. As our mouths move together Flynn grinds himself into me, his hard cock straining against his jeans, trying to find the place it so desperately needs to be.

  I reach down and grab onto him, feeling devilish at eliciting a moan out of his mouth this time. He feels enormous in my hand, my other one wrapped around him, holding on. I slide over the length of him inside of his jeans and he responds by grinding against my hand, making me feel all of him: the warmth, the hardness, the sheer size and girth of the thing. The hand of his that’s at my waist finds its way to the top of mine and I feel him guide me, his fingers laid on top of mine, showing me where he wants me to go … and where he wants is the fly of his pants.

  I pull the metal zipper down, my heart racing inside my chest as I do. His fingers, still on top of mine, guide me between the now-parted pieces of fabric, to the inside of his jeans where I fish around. And then finally I grab a hold of it—my entire hand can hardly fit around the thing—and I pull it out, all of it. It feels amazing in my hand, and I notice that Flynn’s lips have frozen against my own as I begin to stroke him. A low, guttural growl is unleashed from the confines of his throat and I swear the crotch of my panties get wet just from hearing it.

  I slide my hand up and down, his lips coming back to life as we continue kissing again. His dick is so big, so long, it feels like it takes forever to stroke the entire length of it. I slide my fingers up and encircle them around the head of his cock, making Flynn shiver. I like having this control over him … but apparently Flynn has other ideas.

  He seems to read my mind as his kisses become stronger, pushing me against the wall even harder. The hand that’s on my breast moves down, to the bottom of my shirt. He grabs onto it and pulls it up, exposing my bare stomach, slipping it up underneath my leather jacket and over the top of my bra. Once that’s revealed, he grabs onto my bra and yanks it down, exposing my breast to him. In one fluid movement his lips detach from mine and he drops them down, latching onto my breast and sucking it into his mouth.

  I cry out loud—I can’t help it. Flynn’s tongue and teeth go crazy on my nipple, drawing it in, sending floods of thick, heavy pleasure down through me. There’s wetness on the hand that’s jerking him off and I moan as I slide my fingers around in his precum, stroking him up and down. One of Flynn’s hands grabs onto the top of my jeans, undoing them quickly. Before I know it the zipper is down and I feel him slide down inside my panties. Now I really let out a moan.

  My clit is burning brightly as Flynn’s fingers move easily in the juices I’ve made for him. He runs down, feeling my lips, my hole, coming back up and rubbing all along my clit. I cry, I moan, and his free hand comes up, his fingers finding my mouth. I latch onto them like a baby, sucking in as I struggle to keep my noises down. But it’s hard. I’m stroking his thick cock, more and more precum coming down, covering my own fingers as I tease and jerk him off. His hand down in my pants is rubbing, circling, making my thighs quiver and shake.

  I can’t hold it back. This is too much. Flynn is too much. I suck in air around his saliva-coated fingers. Flynn sucks on my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple. His fingers work my clit. I grab onto his thick cock, feeling it pulse in my hand. He draws me up and up, the pleasure in me rising like a thermometer. It gets higher and higher, and suddenly even his fingers can’t stop my sounds.

  I moan, and cry out, and practically scream as I start to come against his hand. Flynn’s mouth quickly leaves my breast and he comes up, taking his fingers out of my mouth as he kisses me. But I don’t stop, instead just screaming into his mouth as he keeps my orgasm going, rubbing my clit, my own hand jerking his cock hard and fast. I’m shaking, I’m ready to collapse, but I don’t—I stay with Flynn, stay up against this wall in this alley in this dirty part of town.

  When I finally stop coming and my screams subside down to heavy panting and moans … well, it takes me a moment to realize that Flynn’s free hand is starting to push my jeans down. I move from the wall, helping to shimmy out of them. My ass and pussy are exposed, the tops of my jeans stopping just at the middle of my thighs. Flynn grabs onto me and I let go of his cock as he spins me around. He’s taken control, and that passion in me that was just beginning to abate is coming back again for round two.

  Placing my hands on the wall beside my head, I hear Flynn wrestle something out of his jacket and a moment later the sound of a foil wrapper being opened up. My heart is in my throat in anticipation. My pussy is dripping, pulsing, waiting for him. Finally I feel him guide his way between my legs and my heart skips a beat in my chest. Ever since that time in the bar bathroom, all I’ve been able to think about was the feeling of this man inside of me again. And now it’s about to happen and I absolutely can’t wait.

  And neither can Flynn, because a second later he grabs onto me as he slides his entire length up inside of my pussy.

  I cry out, and immediately Flynn’s hand finds my mouth, covering it, his fingers slipping between my lips again where I suck on them as he begins to pump his hard self into my aching loins. I close my eyes, my entire body moving with his. My senses are heightened and I hear his breathing, feel his hot breath and the pulse of his dick as he fills me. The hand that’s not in my mouth is holding onto me, grabbing me, his strong grip keeping me in place as he fucks me deeply, letting me know that I’m his.

  It goes faster. Flynn’s heavy breaths turn into deep and heavy moans as I feel him start to pound himself inside of me. He pulls himself closer and I feel him nuzzle against my neck, making me shiver as he kisses me, licks me, sucks me, bites me. The hand that’s holding me begins to slide down until finally it finds itself between my legs, rubbing at my clit again. I gasp and bite down on his fingers as he rubs me, drawing hot pleasure into me, making me tighten and squeeze around him. Flynn only moans louder in response.

  His hips move faster. The pleasure in me rises up. His body tightens against mine, his fingers moving faster on my clit, and still the pleasure in me gets even higher. It gets to the point where I feel like I’m going to explode, in him, around him, all over him. He keeps fucking me, his noises and his heat and his closeness so all-encompassing and I feel so right and finally I feel my body letting go as I struggle and cry and shake all at once, this orgasm ten times what the last one was.

  It’s like my world is turning into nothingness. All I can feel and experience is Flynn. I come hard, my pussy quivering as though hot pulses of electricity are pushing through it. I’m hardly aware of his hand covering my mouth completely now to keep my cries of passion down. And then I hear him, and I feel him, as his own cries rise up in his throat and I reach back, scrabbling to hold onto him as I feel him come hard inside my pussy. There the two of us stand, the two of us together, connected in the deepest and most intimate of ways, riding on each other’s highs, soaring through the clouds and the trees, the two of us alone in the world.

  But like all things in life, it comes to an end. And I feel Flynn slow down. I feel his
muscles relax, and the hand on my clit slow down. I feel my pussy slowly let go of him, and I feel my breathing and my heartbeat return to normal. I feel Flynn pull himself out of me—as much as I want him to stay there, to stay inside of me, if only for a little bit longer—and then he lets go of me and takes a step back and just like that, we’re not together anymore. Our bodies are detached. And the sounds and smells of this dirty alleyway push back into my senses and I turn around as Flynn is putting himself away. I find myself reaching down to shimmy my jeans back up, readjust my breasts and my bra and shirt.

  We make ourselves presentable and a palpable silence falls over us. Flynn is looking at me, and I look up at him, caught in the strength of his gaze. But he looks … uncertain. Scared, maybe. Is that possible? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just seeing how I feel. He takes a deep breath in and my heart skips a beat as I think he’s going to tell me something, something profound, something terrible, something I don’t want to hear. But all he says is:

  “Wow.”

  And I swallow, not sure if I should smile, not sure if I want to.

  “Yeah,” I say in return. And that’s it. Our eyes stay locked together, for a minute that lasts an eternity, and then Flynn swallows and pulls his gaze from mine as he looks back to the direction our bikes are in.

  “We should get back to the warehouse,” he says to me, and I feel myself nod, a hollow in my chest, although I’m not sure what it is.

  “Yeah,” I say again. And again, swallowing, “Yeah.”

  And Flynn starts to walk away from the picnic table, and I glance back at it, back at the half-eaten burritos, forgotten on its surface. And I wonder as I follow him just what in the hell I’m doing.

  Trista

  I can’t believe it’s already been a day since Flynn and I had sex for the second time.

  I’m in the filing room at the station, having been given the arduous task of checking decades-old files for any discrepancies that may have arisen during the years of taking files out and putting them back in. The work is long, and boring, and absolutely pointless … but at least it gives me time to think.

  And for the past twenty-four hours, all I’ve been able to think about is Flynn.

  We got back to the warehouse and Flynn was acting like his normal self around the others who had shown up. He was acting like nothing had happened between us. It was a bit strange, but the walk back to our bikes was strange too. He didn’t say anything at all, and I didn’t want to start up some sort of conversation. I mean, what exactly do you say after something like that?

  So we walked and rode in silence, and when we got back it actually was like nothing happened at all. The only thing reminding me that I didn’t dream the entire thing was the hot, deep throbbing in between my legs. I didn’t dream that. So when someone mentioned going to the bar and I declined, knowing I had to work early this morning, I was a little surprised to see Flynn look over at me.

  It only lasted a second. But it was all the verification I needed.

  That look. That look of longing. Of desire, of wanting to be with me but uncertain if he should. I know that look very well. The reason I know it so well is because it’s the look that shows exactly how I’m feeling toward Flynn.

  I mean, what exactly the hell is wrong with me? The first time in the bathroom, that was … whatever. I was drunk. Well … not that drunk. But drunk enough. And he was cute, and I had no idea he was a member of the Bullets, because if I’d known then I would have steered clear of that. But he was cute! And the night went on for so long that I didn’t think anything would happen, so when it did happen it was such a surprise and …

  Well, anyway.

  The first time was a write-off. But the second time … the second time was different.

  Because I was the one who initiated it the second time.

  It was just supposed to be a distraction. But looking back on it, I’m sure there were a million other ways of distracting someone who’s got you pinned during a fight. I mean, you don’t exactly see a lot of fighters start making out during a UFC match, right?

  So why did I choose to kiss him? It was the first thing that popped into my head, but isn’t that kind of telling? I might be developing feelings for Flynn … even though I know I shouldn’t. I didn’t start this mission—which has no type of backup, I should remind myself—to hook up with someone on the other side. If any of them found out I’m a cop, they would kill me, no questions asked. Flynn included.

  And that’s what I need to remind myself every time I see him.

  The day eventually finishes and I go home, exhausted. The next day, after work, I get into my Bullets gear and head to the bar. Grabbing a beer from the bar, I go and sit next to Matthias and Chloe, trying to ignore my heart skipping a beat as Flynn gives me a smile.

  “Hey,” Chloe says, touching her beer to mine before we both take a drink. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

  “I’ve been busy,” I say—not exactly a lie. Although my dossiers on some of the Bullets are a bit light. “Hey, so Chloe, you never told me how you got into being part of this gang. When did you start?”

  “Oh, when?” Chloe repeats, thinking. “Mm, I guess it’s been almost three years now.”

  “Wow, three years?”

  “Yeah, although it feels like longer. Honestly, sometimes I have trouble remembering what my life was like before I joined the Bullets.”

  “What were you doing before this?” I ask. Good, this is good, I think.

  “Well, I actually had a gambling and drug problem,” Chloe admits, her tone becoming somber. “I used to drive out to Vegas a lot … five times a month, sometimes more. I got unemployment because I’d been laid off, and every week I tried to tell myself, no. Don’t gamble your money away. Just buy groceries. Pay the rent. Do normal stuff. But every week when that check came … I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes I did win, at craps or sometimes the slot machines, but I never won more than I’d lost.

  “It got so bad that I was being threatened with eviction, and I had nowhere else to go. My mom died when I was in my twenties, and my dad ran out long ago. A friend of mine told me about the Bullets, and how I could make some money doing small jobs. I did some and was able to pay my rent, but Will liked me, so he asked if I wanted to join. After that horrible initiation, I was in.”

  Jesus, I think. It’s almost like the Bullets … helped her.

  “What … were the jobs you had to do?” I ask as Chloe takes a drink of her beer. I’m thinking maybe it was prostitution or selling drugs, but she shrugs, thinking.

  “Mm, one was to drive out west, out of town, to deliver a message to someone. Just slide an envelope under their front door. I never even met the person. I got a couple hundred for that. Another was to sit by this man—I think he was a lawyer—at a restaurant and write down anything he said while he was on the phone. Just little things, you know? Nothing illegal—or, at least, if it was illegal it only just toed the line—and Will paid me well. I guess they were just small-time jobs that he needed done.”

  Matthias nods.

  “Yeah, it’s not unheard of for Will to go ahead and bring in some unemployed people, people on disability leave, even the homeless sometimes and just give them small jobs. It’s actually pretty clever, because the jobs are all cash, all under the table, and anyone doing the work has no connection with PharmaChem or the Bullets.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe says. “I mean, I don’t do any of those jobs anymore, now that I’m a member. But Will really helped me out. He helps a lot of people out.”

  Will Silver helping people out. The thought almost seems to defy logic. I always saw Will Silver as this pompous fat cat, sitting up in his ivory tower that is PharmaChem, looking down on the plebes of the town and laughing. But he does give back to the community. In nefarious ways, of course. I have no doubt that everything Chloe did tied back to his selling drugs, or to running the Bullets, or even to ending somebody’s life. Who knows what was written on that envelope? There’s no wa
y of knowing. But undoubtedly it was something bad … something that, if it fell into the wrong hands, would have hurt Will badly.

  I take a drink of my beer, wondering what out of Chloe’s story I can put in her dossier. Nothing really stands out. I decide to try Matthias.

  “And how about you?” I ask, turning to him. “How did you get started with the Bullets?”

  Matthias grins. “PharmaChem was actually one of my little league’s sponsors when I was a kid,” he says. “I remember sometimes looking out and seeing this old-looking man in a suit on the bleachers, cheering us on beside our parents and stuff. That was Will. He was the only one who wore a suit to the games. He even tried enrolling his son, Craig, one season, but Craig was kicked off after starting a fight with his coach.”

  He laughs, and Chloe chuckles as well. I’m too flabbergasted to respond correctly. Will Silver sponsored his little league team? What was his plan in that?

  “When I got older Will actually approached me—I was a senior in high school then—and asked if I wanted to make a little extra cash. I told him sure, and that summer I helped off-load shipments from the backs of trucks. It was a night job—hell, we were probably moving crates of smack, for all I know—but it paid well. After a couple of years I found out about the Bullets, and knowing Will was running it, tried to get in right away.”

  “Yeah, everyone here is great,” Chloe says, looking with admiration around at the gang. “We don’t let just anybody in. So many of the Slingers have tried coming over to us, but there’s a reason they’re in the Slingers to begin with. Although Georgie was in the Pig Boys before he came over.”

  “Oh, who’s Georgie?” I ask, looking around. “I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

  But when I look back at Chloe and Matthias their smiles have gone.