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“Never.” I rise up and push back down. He grabs my hips, taking control of my motions as he takes what he wants.Me.
“Touch yourself,” he grits out. I slip my hand between my thighs to rub my clit. My other hand goes to my breast to pull on my nipple. He lets out a loud groan. I know how much he enjoys watching me touch myself.
“That’s it. Touch that sweet pussy and make me come.” His dirty words spur me on.
His legs begin to tense below me, and I know he’s about to come, but he’s fighting it. He won’t let himself until I do. My eyes meet his. The raw need I see there for me sends me over the edge. He keeps moving my hips for me as his release spills. He milks out my orgasm, making sure I get every bit of pleasure before I collapse on top of him with his cock still inside.
His hands roam up and down my back as my eyes fall closed. I turn my head and kiss his chest. This man was made for me. The one thing I feared would scare him off is one of the things he loves most about me.
He loves when I’m clingy and want to be near him. That I’m always seeking him out. He understands it because he’s the same way. We’re a perfect fit for each other.
Both madly in love and most definitelyobsessed.
HITMAN’S HEART
HITMAN’S HEART
MINK
I’m good at my job. Taking people out doesn’t give me any heartburn, especially when it means my bank account grows fatter after each assignment. So what if I drink away the days between missions, and maybe I try to forget all the things I’ve done—I’m not soft. Not for anyone. . . Except her. Margaret. My little ray of sunshine, the only bright spot in this world of darkness. She’s the only thing I have to look forward to, and when she’s threatened, I can’t sit idly by. Not even when I’m ordered to take her life or lose my own. I’ll keep her hidden and safe, but how will I protect her from myself?
1
JACOB
My phone vibrates.
I ignore it and take another swig from my bottle. This is the cooldown, the time when I lay low after a particularly high profile job. Drinking, Netflix, and chilling with Bernie. That’s it. Nothing else.
“Look at this shit.” I point at the huge TV on the wall of my dark bedroom.
Bernie glances at me.
“Not me. This show. This guy has all these tigers, but he doesn’t even treat them right. And he wants to off this Carole chick, but he doesn’t even give the Brotherhood a call? I’m calling bullshit on this whole thing.” I turn the show off and toss the remote.
Bernie watches it sail across the room, then returns his feline eyes to me.
“What?” I shrug.
I finish off my bottle and drop it to the rug by the bed. It clinks into another one. I only drink during the cooldown. When I’m on the job, not a drop. And my last job went on for three months. Three lost months of stalking a particular target through the streets of Tangiers, along the banks of the Seine, and finally in a Scottish castle where he’d amassed a fortune in weapons, drugs, and trafficked women.
Killing him was easy. Waiting for the go-ahead was the part that stuck in my craw. All that time wasted as I followed him from back room to back room, brothel to brothel, drug den to drug den. I trailed in his filthy wake, my gun loaded with three bullets I’d marked in ink with my signature. But I couldn’t move until I got the go-ahead from Mr. Baines.
Once I had it, I took the piece of shit out. Two bullets in his head and one in his heart. Once it was done, I returned home, crawled into my bed, and commenced drinking.
“You know what I like about you, Bernie?” I grab a fresh bottle from my nightstand and open it with my teeth. “I like that you don’t judge me.” I spit the lid across the room.
He stares at me, and though I’d like to believe he doesn’t judge me, the look in his eyes says different. Maybe he doesn’t judge me for the work I do, for the contracts I take from Mr. Baines, for all the blood on my hands--but he does judge me for wallowing in my evil deeds with bottles of Jack and shitty streaming programming.
“When I left the Red Dragoons, I thought maybe you and me would land some cushy corporate security job.” I toast to him and take a swig.
I had landed that cushy job, or so I’d thought. But Charleton Baines isn’t your average businessman. He’s as cruel as the day is long, and if he makes an enemy, that person’s life expectancy goes to jack shit. Because of me. Because I’m a killer. And now that I’m beholden to Baines, I can’t escape.
Doing his dirty work is the price I pay for a favor. I knew the cost when I asked it. But I didn’t know it was an empty bargain, one that would leave me indebted for the rest of my life.
“At least I’ve got you.” I tilt the bottle toward Bernie. “Right?”
He licks the back of his paw and swipes at his ear.
