by Nicole Fox
“Fine,” he says, glaring at me. “You can help me. But that doesn’t mean we’re partners. When I tell you something, you listen to me. When I tell you something is too dangerous, or that you need to stay out of the way, you listen to me. Okay?”
I don’t necessarily like the terms of this agreement, but I’m really in no position to renegotiate. He’s the one with the power. He’s the one that gets to decide what we do now that whoever wants him dead also probably wants me out of the picture too.
“That’s fair,” I say. “But I also want you to listen to me sometimes. I’m not some annoying sidekick. I know things about Konstantin that even Mr. X wouldn’t be able to figure out. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life. This means so much to me, and—”
Roman cuts me off. “I know. I know what it means.”
Of course he knows. He went through this same thing with his family. He went through the pain of losing them and the all-encompassing rage of knowing that the people that did it got away with no consequences. Not even so much as a scratch on them. He knows the sleepless nights, the bone-rattling anger, and the bottomless despair. If anyone in the world would understand what I’m going through, it’s Roman.
That must be why he’s letting me work with him. Maybe he pities me because of what happened to Mom and Dad. He figures he’s kicking me a bone, giving me something to do that will make me feel like I’m contributing. Even if he is, I don’t care. It’s something. It’s something better than crying every other night, feeling helpless to the evil in the world.
I have agency. Finally, I have some say in what’s happening to me and around me. I’m not a damsel in distress, sitting helplessly while the evil men of the world get away with anything they please. It took a lot to get here—if I’m being honest, I’ll probably need therapy after this—but it’s been worth it. Knowing that soon, Konstantin will pay? It’s worth every last moment since I’ve met Roman.
“Enough murder talk,” he says, giving me a look. I don’t want to argue with him. “Finish eating your food. I slaved over the stove for this.”
Following instructions, I scoop up a forkful of eggs, peppers, and onions and take a big bite. After I swallow, I smile at him. “You know, if you ever get tired of shooting and strangling people, you might have a successful career in cooking. You’re not too shabby at it.”
“Probably tastes better than a burnt dishrag, too.”
My mouth falls open, and I laugh incredulously. “Did you just ...”
“I did.” He smirks as well, then takes a sip of his black coffee.
“After Konstantin,” I say, grabbing my butter knife and lightheartedly pointing it at him, “you’re next on my hit list.”
***
After dinner, Roman and I quickly wash the dishes and head upstairs for the night. On the way to the stairs, he grabs me and lifts me off the ground, wrapping my legs around his waist. I let out a small laugh but don’t fight him on it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, running a hand over his cheek.
“I’m thanking you for helping with dinner,” he replies. He steals a slow kiss from me, and I return the favor, breaking it only to pepper more along his jawline. He lets out a low humming noise, then begins walking upstairs.
“Be careful,” I laugh. “You’re gonna drop me.”
“I’m not going to drop you,” he groans.
“I’m just saying!”
We make it up to the bed in one piece, and he finally does drop me, this time on my back. I start to roll away when he climbs on top, pinning me to the mattress. I could squirm and fight him, but right now, underneath him is exactly where I want to be.
There’s something about him that always surprises me, and this time, it’s how he takes his time undressing me. Before, when were in the bathroom at the diner, he was quick and needy, practically tearing our clothes off so he could get inside of me. Tonight, he’s careful with what he does. He’s in no hurry to peel my pants from my legs or tug my shirt over my head. And when I’m lying in only my underwear, he leans in and presses gentle kisses to my skin.
His hands find my bra, and he removes it easily, dropping it on the floor next to the rest of my clothes. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he tells me.
I want to blush or argue with him, but I can’t find the energy to be humble. I just want to be with him, absorbing everything he has to say to me. His firm, calloused hands feel perfect against my body, and I feel myself practically gravitate towards him when he slides it down my stomach and between my legs.
Two fingers slip inside of me, and I let out a soft moan. “Ah,” I whisper.
He locks eyes with me, a smile on his face. “Tell me how that feels.”
“It feels ... it feels good,” I manage to say. I haven’t had a lot of sex in my life, but something about Roman’s touch feels special. He feels like what I imagine the men in all the romance novels Nana reads must feel like. Strong. Dominant. And yet, soft ... when he wants to be.
Roman’s fingers begin to move faster, sliding deeper inside of my pussy, stretching me out wider. Another deep moan vibrates from my throat and I feel my back arch.
“That’s it,” he encourages, spreading my legs wider. “I’m gonna make you come for me.”
I open my eyes and meet his. He stares at me intensely, and when he presses his thumb to my clit, tapping it, I shudder beneath him. For a long time, neither of us say anything. I just stare into his eyes as he touches the most sensitive parts of me, working me like he’s known my body his entire life.
He must be able to sense when I’m close, because he presses his lips to mine again, hungry like we didn’t just have dinner. His tongue dancing with mine combined with how skilled he is with his fingers, it’s no wonder I feel that rising swell of pleasure growing too strong to handle. I can’t contain it anymore.
Clutching his upper arm for dear life, I feel myself come undone, my orgasm spilling over. A silent scream passes my lips and I stiffen entirely, shuddering at his touch.
“There you go,” he growls. “That’s a good girl.”
I feel hot all over, and I fall back on the bed, panting desperately for air. While I catch my breath, Roman kisses my neck and explores my body with his free hand. He cups my breasts firmly, teasing the nipples until they harden, then sucks them into his mouth. Post-orgasm, it feels even more incredible than it normally might.
Just as I start to come down from my climax, Roman removes his fingers, licks them clean, and begins undoing the fly on his jeans. I watch with my breath held as he pulls himself free. His cock is quite large, and normally, I’d be skeptical whether I’d be able to take it, but I already know. He managed to fit just perfectly in the diner.
He lines himself up and presses the head in slowly. He’s much bigger than his fingers, and I let out a steady breath as he fills me. His movements are precise, building up a decent pace. Feeling a bit cheeky, I run my fingers through his hair before catching a handful.
“How’s that feel?” I ask.
Roman chuckles and leans in close to my ear. “Like fucking heaven,” he says. His warm breath on my skin sends chills through my body.
It doesn’t take long for Roman to increase his speed, thrusting faster and faster. I bite back another cry of pleasure and take him for all he can give. My hand falls to my clit, where I begin to rub circles, teasing myself. After my first orgasm, I’m already sensitive, but with Roman inside of me, everything is heightened.
I writhe beneath him, grinding back, meeting him in the middle. That seems to be good for him because he lets out a deep rumble of a moan. I’ve only heard it once before, but it’s already my new favorite sound.
“Yes,” I whisper, groaning as he buries himself inside me completely. “Don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. He moves forward and back, knocking the headboard of the bed against the wall, over and over, unrelenting and without mercy. I take him as best I can, and just when I think I might lose it all, he leans in a
nd bites my shoulder again. The heat overtakes me and I come again, clenching around him as my body explodes with ecstasy.
His orgasm hits at the same time because he pulls me close to him and snaps his hips forward without a break. I feel him fill me, and as strange as these two days have been, I wouldn’t want this any other way. It’s better than the dream I had at the motel. It’s better than any fantasy I could craft on my own.
The real thing is so much better.
***
Roman eventually slides out and sits on the side of the bed, hunched over. When I have the energy to move, I push up on my knees and crawl towards him, draping myself over his shoulder. I fit perfectly over him, like we were made that way. Like I belong exactly in this position with him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He turns his head to look at me, and where I expect a scowl or sour look, I find the smallest smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “I just haven’t had sex that good in a while.”
I crack a smile and say, “That’s because you didn’t know me.”
“This sass ... I like it.”
I press a kiss to his warm bare shoulder. “I like it too. But you know what I’d like even more?”
“What’s that?”
“Sleep.” I usher him into bed and underneath the covers. Once he’s settled, I turn the lamps off and crawl under the covers with him. It’s a unique feeling, lying in bed with Roman. He’s a killer. He’s done horrible things. But when I’m with him, he only makes me feel good. I don’t exactly understand it, but right now, I don’t need to.
I just like having him around.
Chapter Eleven
Roman
Two weeks fly by in an instant. Normally, my days seem long and dull, empty, while I wait for another assignment from Mr. X. Something else to fill my time. Something for me to do to avoid sitting in silence. But with Lucy, things are different.
She wanted to learn how to fight.
After the shooting at the diner, she was shaken up, but she wasn’t defeated. Rather than going into a shell, she figured it was better to protect herself. Killing didn’t always have to be the only form of self-defense. It took me a while to come up with a few nonlethal techniques to teach her, but eventually I wrote up a sparring plan.
The first thing I taught her was punches. The proper way to hold her hand, punching through the target and not just at it, and how to perfect her form so that she didn’t hurt herself. She’s a fast learner. She picked it up easily, and soon we moved up to grapples and holds that she could escape from.
This took a little bit of practice. At first, she ended up getting so frustrated with me that she started to get teary-eyed. I had to give her pep talks, reassure her that she could do it, and then eventually she was able to work up the strength to escape my grip. The first time she did, she jumped up and down like a kid. It was adorable, I have to admit.
I have to remind myself that this isn’t some relationship I’m in.
Lucy isn’t my girl. She’s someone I’m working with and she’s been pretty damn helpful since we came to this house. She knows more than I ever expected, and because of her, I’ve been able to do plenty of research on him and figure out his schedule.
Something brought us together. It’s annoying to admit, but I might actually need her to help me pull this assignment off.
“Earth to Roman,” she says, punching me in the gut. The glove on her hand keeps it from hurting, but I blink and shake myself out of my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I mutter, holding up the pads.
She punches them back and forth with surprising force. Something tells me that she’s picturing Konstantin. When she sees those targets, she sees his face. I did the same thing. Every punch I threw when I spent months training, I imagined my uncles. I imagined the crunching of their noses, the howls of pain, and the blood. I wanted to see so much of it. I channeled my hatred for them into every punch I gave my heavy bag.
She sets her jaw and goes back and forth, left and right, over and over. She’s worked up a sweat, but even still, she looks beautiful. Finally, she drops her hands and undoes the blue gloves. She drops them to the floor, and I pull off the pads on my hands.
I watch as she grabs a bottle of water from the patio, drinking it down in three large gulps. The sun beats down on us in the backyard, but I barely notice the heat. Seeing her improve is the only thing I focus on. When she’s done, she walks back to me, a smile on her face.
“What?” I ask.
“I want to practice some holds.”
“Okay.” I grab her and jerk her forward, pulling her to my chest. I squeeze my arms around her, holding her the same way I would if I were trying to keep her from getting away. Lucy wiggles and squirms until she stomps on my foot and I loosen my grip. She now has some room to move around. Quick on her feet, she manages to slip out from my grip and grab me instead.
In a flash, Lucy knocks me flat on my ass. I’m too stunned to say anything, and in that time, she pushes me flat on my back and climbs on top of me. Her chest heaves as she pins me to the grass, and a satisfied smile appears on her face. It’s impressive how far she’s come in such a short time. Just three weeks ago, she probably had no clue how to do even half of this.
“Got you,” she says confidently.
“You did,” I reply. I reach up and grab her hips, tugging her down on me. This close, she can probably feel my growing erection against her thigh.
“What’s my prize? Since I got you and all?”
“What do you want?”
Lucy taps her chin and looks around, considering her options. “I want to boss you around for a little while,” she says finally.
“Oh yeah? Maybe.”
“No ‘maybes,’” she says, shaking her head. “Kiss me. Now.”
Giving up control isn’t my sort of thing, but with Lucy, I might reconsider. I pull her down towards me and press my lips to her. She lets out a tender moan and slides her arm under the back of my head, holding me just as close. Our kiss deepens and I brush my tongue over hers. She’s impatient, eager to go further, and I love every second of it.
I slide a hand down to her ass and cup her. When I squeeze, she moans again, rolling her hips down against me. My cock stirs to life. That feeling seems to come up a lot whenever I’m around Lucy. If I had it my way, there’d be a lot more of this and less talk about my assignment with Konstantin.
I don’t know what she’s doing to me. Any other assignment, I would’ve handled it by now. But when I spend time with Lucy, I almost want to call this off. Throw in the towel and find another line of work. It doesn’t make sense, and that frustrates me.
Lucy deserves the kind of guy that won’t disappear for weeks at a time to kill someone. She deserves someone that can give her what she wants, like a family and a suburban home with a white picket fence. I’m not that kind of guy. I can’t change that truth. All I can do is ignore it.
Which is exactly what I’m doing as I kiss her harder, hungrier, drowning out the doubts in my mind. There’s no point in worrying about the future. Right now is good enough for me. Judging by the noises she makes, it’s good enough for Lucy as well.
She slides her hands under my shirt and up my chest, and as I start to pull the shirt off, my phone rings. Lucy immediately rolls off me.
“It’ll be quick,” I say, sitting up. I grab my phone a few feet away and head inside the house where it’s a little more private. I lean against the island in the kitchen and answer it. “What?”
A gruff voice on the other end of the line says, “I have it.”
“Do you need me to come by and pick everything up?”
“Yeah.”
“All right,” I say, grabbing the keys from the counter. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” When I hang up, Lucy clears her throat.
“Who was that?” she asks. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest and head tilted curiously. It’s not the right time to be thinking about it, but
she looks adorable in her workout gear. Her sports bra and leggings combo work for her.
“The supplies are here,” I say, stuffing my wallet in my pocket.
“You gonna be long?”
“Probably not. I’m just picking it up and heading right back. Think you can hold down the fort?”
A smile crosses her face. “I think I can manage. Hurry back.”
I kiss her on the cheek and head out to the garage. The trip won’t take long, but I’m annoyed that it’s interrupting time with Lucy. We were just about to have some fun before my contact, Andrew, blue balled me. He’s lucky I need the paralytic for Konstantin, otherwise he would’ve gone straight to voicemail.
***
When I arrive, the exchange goes quickly. I hand him his money, he walks me into the back of his house and grabs the bag of supplies that I need, then hands it off to me. In and out, very few words exchanged. That’s the good thing about Andrew. He doesn’t waste time trying to catch up. He’s as focused on his money as I am on taking out Konstantin. Because of that, he makes for a good supplier whenever I need drugs that I can’t get my hands on.
I turn the car around and head back to the house. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach that makes me wonder if Lucy will still be there. I don’t know why, but I keep expecting her to disappear. Maybe she’ll have a change of heart and decide that this life isn’t for her. Maybe she’ll realize that the business she’s getting involved in isn’t something you can really just back out of. Not when you’re in my position.
That thought is always in the back of my head.
It’s fucking annoying, always wondering if I’ll wake up one day and find her gone. I don’t like depending on her not to hurt me like that. And what isn’t helping is how much time we’ve spent together. There are moments when I wonder what this is between us. Are we just temporary coworkers, or is there something deeper going on between us?