CAUGHT: A Hitman Romance (6 page)

Mars

I can taste the sweetness of the drinks she had on her lips. A weak little moan escapes her dainty body when I claim her.

She melts into me so willingly, letting go of all inhibitions sooner than a sober person ever would. I know it’s mostly the alcohol that causes her to be this smitten by a simple kiss, but it still edges me on like a fucking aphrodisiac.

I allow myself a careful taste of her soft lips, restraining myself before she can react to me. When she moans and melts under my touch as if she has been waiting for me to take her all her life, I cannot help but show her what I really want.

I don’t peck and cuddle. If I take her, I will do it my way.

I straighten up and put one arm around her fragile back, pulling her closer while my other hand takes a fistful of that insane hair of hers. She is so timid and shy, innocent, reluctant.

I will eat her alive.

And then I will make her talk.

Only when she is high on pleasure and intoxication, she will talk. I need to get her into that state, the most vulnerable and honest a person can be. Stripped naked of her protection and caution. If she doesn’t talk then, I might rest assured that she never will.

It seems like she hasn’t talked to anyone about what she saw on that rooftop, maybe not even her close friend. If that’s true, I need to know about her reasons. I need to become the only one she would tell, ever.

I’ll decide what to do about her then.

Fucking silly man.

Already, I can feel her divine taste taking me over. Her lips are pressed against mine with hungry desperation and with every moment that our tongues continue their ecstatic dance, I notice my pulse speed up.

Another moan from her calls me back to reality and I push her away. She is panting heavily, staring up at me with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. There’s a hint of shock in her gaze, but most of all there is need. Delicious need for more.

I have never seduced a woman like a gentleman. Working with the mob provided me with plenty of opportunities to have my way with a bunch of easy girls, who didn’t care about being treated right—they just cared about material compensation and a taste of luxury that they would have been prohibited from experiencing otherwise.

They liked who I was with them. Rough, harsh, a bad boy who didn’t care about anything or anyone else.

This one is different. With her, I have to protect my name, my life really.

“I’m sorry,” I growl, assuming that this is what a girl like her would expect to hear after such an intrusion.

I’m not sorry, of course. She belongs in my fucking bed, close to unconsciousness, drunk with pleasure and a fake sense of security.

She smiles.

“I think we’re even now,” she says, casting me a flirtatious smile.

I tighten my fist around the hair at the back of her head and pull on it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I cannot hide the animal inside of me. But she seems to enjoy it.

“I made a clumsy first move on you,” she whispers. “And you took what I offered.”

I don’t know what she is trying to say with this and chose to ignore her little banter. The night is getting late and things need to get moving.

“Had enough fresh air?” I want to know.

She nods. “I think I’m good.”

“Would it be considered unprofessional if you went home with one of the patrons?” I ask.

Of course, I don’t care about that, but I know she does.

She hesitates for a moment, looking up at me with shy questions written across her face, before she breaks into a sexy little smirk.

“Not if no one notices.”

She tries to be coy, but there is an undeniable uncertainty radiating from her.

“Would you mind if I called us a cab?” I ask, trying to be the gentleman she needs me to be to be convinced. It takes all my efforts to turn into this person. The nice one. The careful one. I loathe it, but understand the necessity for it. Years of playing with the bad kids have made it hard for me to act like the agreeable person I need to be for this new life.

But I know I have it in me. I can be the good guy, if need be.

She gulps, still enclosed in my embrace, her dark eyes switching back and forth between me and the city landscape beneath us. Something is holding her back or even frightening her.

It seems like I have to make this decision for her, so I take a step back, creating a little distance between us before I grab her hand and turn around, pulling her behind me as I make my way toward the door.

“I take your silence as a yes,” I announce, when we reach the elevator.

She stands next to me, weirdly quiet. Her hand is soft in my hard grip, weak and passive. I don’t like it at all. I feel as if she is fading away from me, and I have no idea what caused this sudden change in her.

The doors to the elevator open surprisingly quickly. We step inside, and I notice her turning around to me as soon as the doors close. I reciprocate her silent gaze and the small elevator is soon filled with an uncomfortable tension while she stares up at me.

I’m alarmed.

Does she recognize me after all? Did I miss something? Did she lure me away from the group so her friend can call the police and have them wait for me outside the venue on the street? Is that why she was so taken aback when I decided to go up on the roof instead?

“What is it?” I ask, sounding harsher than intended. I cannot hide my sudden suspicion toward her. “Are you scared?”

She shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers. “It’s just that… I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what before?” I probe, even though I’m pretty sure I know what she is talking about.

Of course, she blushes and lowers her eyes.

“You know… go home with a guy I just met,” she mumbles, hardly audible to my ears.

Same old story. I’m fairly certain that girls like her are schooled to keep up this facade of the good girl. They don’t want to be the easy one, the girl who gives herself away just like that.

But she also doesn’t seem to know how to make a guy fight for her. Her hesitation is just an act, something she does as to not lose her reputation—it doesn’t reflect what she really thinks or wants.

At least that is what I suspect. Trying to read her turns out to be a lot more fun than I thought. She is so closed up, so careful and somewhat contradictory.

Even if it weren’t for the danger that is attached to her, I would want to make her mine, at least for the night.

“I don’t believe you,” I say to challenge her.

She looks up to me and breaks into a shy smile. “You probably shouldn’t.”

Her words send another stream of suspicion through me, but when we leave the elevator and walk out to the street through the lobby, there is no one waiting for us. No police, no alarm going off. Her shy girl act must be solely based on her attraction to me.

Flattering.

As of right now, I have two places that I call home, and when the cab driver asks for an address, I give him the new one, the respectable one.

I haven’t had the place for very long and barely spent a night there, so I’m not surprised to find her confused when she first steps inside.

“This is your place?” She asks, scanning the barely furnished living area. “Did you just move here?”

‘Not yet’ would be the honest answer, but then she would ask about my old and current home—and I sure as hell won’t bring her to that scary dump.

“Yes,” I say. “I work a lot and don’t spend much time at home, that’s why this whole furnishing process takes longer for me than it would for others.”

I pause and wink at her. “But I can promise you that there is a comfortable bed.”

She lowers her eyes and blushes. Whatever sexual tension and attraction there was between us while we were standing on the rooftop is now gone, replaced by an awkward distance.

I think she might need another drink, and I curse myself for not thinking of that earlier, because there is very little I can offer her here. All I have is an old bottle of whiskey, a leftover from bad habits.

We walk into my kitchen and she spots the lone bottle before I can even offer it to her.

“Oh,” she says, beaming and pointing at it. “Could I try that?”

“It’s the only drink I can offer you anyways,” I reply, fetching a glass from the cabinet. “On the rocks or neat?”

“Neat,” she says.

“A true connoisseur, huh.”

She shakes her head while I pour her drink.

“No, but I like a good whiskey once in a while,” she says. “It’s good to calm the nerves.”

“I don’t know if you’d consider this a good one,” I say. “But if your nerves need calming, I’m sure it can do the job.”

“Thank you.”

She takes the glass and brings it up to her face, smelling the whiskey before she takes a careful sip.

I take her in while she is busy enjoying her drink. Her wild mane is a mess, and it looks terribly endearing to me. It was windy on the roof and whatever she did to fix her hair for tonight’s event is now a lost cause. It creates an interesting contrast to her chic clothing. Her lipstick is smeared and has lost its deep and overdone color. She looks so much better without it and I will make sure to remove even the last hint of that annoying goop from her face by the time I am done with her.

“Better?” I ask after she has taken a few careful sips.

“Yes,” she says. “This is actually a good one, very sweet and soft.”

“Soft, huh,” I remark. “I promise you there will be nothing soft about tonight other than that whiskey.”

It’s a risky move, but when I dart forward to take her, she doesn’t resist one bit. A surprised gasp escapes her lips before I close them with a kiss.

Nike

His assertive way is new to me. Despite his rather gloomy and mysterious demeanor at the fundraiser event, I didn’t expect him to be like this. So domineering and straight forward.

He wants me and he lets me know that he does with his actions more than with his words.

There was a moment when I was weirdly uncomfortable with him on the rooftop. I have no idea what caused it, but something just didn’t seem right. With him. With him and me together. There was a weird familiarity between us after that first kiss, and I suddenly remembered what he had said to me when I first came up to him.

He thought I was playing some sort of game, and he thought that we had met before. It was just for those first few moments, but he seemed very intense and serious about it.

Have we met before? Even though I try my best to cast the thoughts aside as he kisses me anew, now in his apartment, I cannot help but wonder.

What I feel toward him can only be described as confusing. It is not mere attraction but more than that.

I just wish I knew what it was.

Suddenly, I can feel his strong hands on my behind. He squeezes my ass through the thin fabric of my evening dress and presses my pelvis against himself.

“Come,” he breathes between our kiss, before he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and he turns around, carrying me to the bedroom while I continue to taste his lips.

He didn’t drink any of the whiskey, yet there is a somewhat sweet and smoky taste to him.

His well fitting suit already suggested that he is quite muscular underneath, but now that he is carrying me and my body is pressed so closely against his that I can actually feel his strength handling me as if I weigh nothing.

I yelp in surprise when he throws me onto his bed. I hadn’t even realized that we had reached the bedroom and I scan the room with confusion while he is standing in front of me. He takes off his suit jacket and lets it fall to the floor, unfazed by what it might do to the undoubtedly expensive material.

“What do you like?” he asks, raising his chin defiantly.

I look up at him, fixing my dress, which I know is a silly move considering what we are about to do.

“What do you m—”

“In bed,” he interrupts, now loosening his tie. “I’m hungry. Can I take you the way I need you?”

I don’t know what to say and just stare up at him, which I think is probably the least satisfying answer I could give him right now.

He gets rid of his tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt while his eyes pin me down on the bed, incapable of moving. His gaze is dark and confident, full of promises that are alluring and frightening at the same time.

I want to touch him. I don’t like this distance between us. Before he can finish unbuttoning his shirt, I get up on my knees on the bed in front of him.

“Let me,” I whisper, and gently move his hands away before I continue what he started. For a moment, I’m afraid that he won’t let me and get angry instead, but he just chuckles, willingly removing his hands and watching me as I open the last few buttons.

“I won’t be this gentle with you,” he promises when I part the now open shirt and reveal his marvelous chest.

To my surprise, there is a big and salient tattoo on his lower side. I slowly peel him out of his shirt to have a better look at it.

“Oh,” I exclaim. “I like this!”

The tattoo appears to be some kind of snake or dragon, or something in between. The creature is coiling across his right pelvis, decorating an impressive set of muscles. I follow the black lines with the tip of my finger as if I was caressing the snake’s scales.

His entire upper body is solid and strong, as if he was wearing permanent armor. I cannot help but notice the many scars that grace his slightly tan skin.

My hands look like they belong to a pale child when I place them against his buff chest, gently running along the trenches created by his muscles.

He lets it happen, but reaches for my chin, holding it in a strong grip between his index finger and his thumb when he tilts my head back and my eyes up to him.

“Now, answer me,” he whispers. “Can I take your delicious little body like I need it?”

“What does that mean?” I breathe, although I am beginning to get an understanding of what he might be talking about. He is not gentle, not careful. He is a man who knows what he wants and he will take it just like that.

“Rough,” he says, not much to my surprise. “Rough, wild, relentless.”

His words send a shiver down my spine—and to other places, I might add. I like his assertiveness. It is not only flattering to be wanted like this, but also very, very enticing.

“Yes,” I hiss, emphasizing the S as if I was impersonating the sexy snake on his pelvis. “Yes, please take me.”

And so he does.

I cannot suppress a girlish shriek when he darts forward, pushing me on my back on the bed and placing himself on top of me, now pinning me down with the weight of his body instead of just his eyes.

His lips are on mine within seconds, claiming me with unknown force. I start writhing beneath him, but can hardly move, because he keeps me in place with his entire being. He is so big and strong—it’s incredibly sexy.

I can feel the effect I have on him pressing against my upper leg. My arms rise up to embrace him, but he quickly grabs my wrists and pushes them down on the mattress above my head. I am completely at his mercy. He pins down both my arms with one hand while his other traces along the side of my body, exploring every curve and every edge.

I quiver when he reaches the hem of my dress and starts pushing it up. His motion is so intrusive, but yet so welcome. His hand wanders further up, soon reaching my hip beneath the dress. I moan, even though his hand is still nowhere near my center. His touch is electric, so strong but yet so sensual.

Soon, his skillful fingers find the hem of my pantyhose and pull them down, together with the thong that I am wearing beneath. It comes as a natural instinct for me to protest, and I find myself closing my legs and trying to roll my body to the side, which is a futile effort because he has me in a tight lock.

“No!” he protests, pushing me back in place.

He leans over me, his face so close to mine that our noses almost touch.

“I have to get a taste of you,” he hisses. “You know that, right?”

I stare up at him with wide eyes, feeling the heat as my cheeks blush in embarrassment. He looks at me with expectation.

I nod in silence, as if I was giving him official permission to go on. He groans, sounding deeply satisfied as he moves lower, pulling down my pantyhose and my thong until I lay beneath him with my lower body exposed, only covered by the dress that I helplessly pull down to cover my nakedness.

He pushes my hands aside and casts me an evil smile.

“Cute,” he says, before he undoes my attempts and pushes my dress up. I close my eyes, confused and embarrassed about my arousal. I am sure he can tell, and if not, he will be able to tell as soon as he puts his hands where I think he is headed.

“Beautiful,” he comments, stroking along the inner side of my thighs, pushing my legs apart. “I must taste you.”

I moan and squirm when he leans forward, now following the same path that his hands have taken before with his tongue until he reaches my center. He pauses, and I know he is looking up to me, observing my reactions, but I don’t dare to look at him and keep my eyes closed.

A deeply contented groan accompanies his motions as he moves closer to my center, running along the outer edge of my labia before he closes in on my entrance.

I shriek with pleasure and arch my back when his tongue finds my clit. He draws little circles around it at first, before he starts sucking on it, starting with gentle pressure until his motions become more greedy.

“Oh my God…,” I exclaim, breathing desperately and spreading my legs even further, inviting him in. I hear a little chuckle coming from his side but he doesn’t stop for even a moment. He is so into it, so attentive and hungry for me. It feels as if he feeding on my pleasure, only wanting to please me even more with every minute that passes.

I can feel my climax approaching. Too soon.

“I am going to come!” I say. It was supposed to be a warning for him to stop, but instead I hear an approving groan.

“Do,” he urges. “I want you to!”

I heave a deep sigh when he intensifies his efforts. It feels too good, too intense. My pleasure increases with every twist of his skillful tongue, driving me insane as waves of bliss travel through my core.

He sends me over the edge by adding a finger, pushed inside of me while he presses down on my mound with the other hand.

The sensation is too much. A blinding thrill takes a hold of me when my orgasm unfolds. I squirm and arch, pushed in place by his strong hands while his tongue continues to prolong my overwhelming release.

My head is spinning. Confused and disoriented, I am floating in the aftermath of what just happened, while he withdraws his hands and straightens up.

“Look at me,” he orders as he gets up from the bed, fiddling with his belt and opening his pants. “Look at the man who did this to you,” he adds, his dark gaze on me while he continues to get undressed.

I dizzily lift my head. He is standing in front of me, bare chested and looking utterly delicious as his pants slide down his slim waist. The bulge beneath his black boxer briefs reveals that I’m not the only one who is enjoying herself.

“Get out of your dress,” he orders. “I need to see all of you.”

I clumsily get up from my lying position and climb down from the bed, my legs shaking like those of a newborn deer. He watches while I peel myself out of my dress, still shy about his eyes on me even after what just happened a few moments before.

He hums with approval when I stand before him completely naked.

“On your knees,” his next command follows.

I do as I am told and kneel before him, my eyes on the impressive bulge that is now in front of my face.

He takes a step forward, decreasing the distance between us and places a hand at the back of my head. “Take it out.”

I hook my index fingers under the hem of his boxer briefs and slowly pull them down until his erection springs free and they fall to the ground. He is rock hard and his cock is a sight just as pleasant as the entire man himself.

I don’t wait for his next command, but follow my own instincts when I open my mouth and lean forward to take him between my lips. He has had his taste, now it’s time for me to get one.

He moans with pleasure, shoving his hips forward slightly while I suck on him with relish. I love his taste, the sweetness there is to it.

I want to repay him for the wonderful pleasure he just bestowed upon me, but he doesn’t let me. After just a few moments, he pulls my head back by the hair.

“Greedy girl,” he whispers, and before I can reply anything, he leans forward and forces me back up on my feet. I am barely standing when he lifts me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing.

The shriek I let out when he suddenly throws me back on the bed is a mixture of surprise and joy. I like being handled like this, and he manages to add a certain sweetness to his assertive behavior.

“I will fuck you now,” he promises while pulling a condom over his erected length. “And I won’t stop until you come again.”

“I won’t argue with that,” I whisper, smirking at him.

“Brat,” he exclaims, before he climbs back on the bed and grabs me by the hips, pulling me closer to him.

He teases my entrance with the tip of his member, watching my reactions as he does. His hands are still on my hips, his thumbs now caressing the soft skin on my pelvis while I squirm beneath him.

I want him inside of me and when he finally shoves forward, spreading me with his impressive girth, I let out a thankful moan.

He starts slowly, but only the first few thrusts are gentle like this, his motions soon turn to be more aggressive and soon I find myself shoved back and forth with brute force as he takes me like he promised, wild and relentlessly.

I bend my knees, trying to support myself, but his movements are so strong and so overwhelming that I don’t stand a chance. He feels divine inside of me and I love seeing his strong arm muscles flex while he fills me.