Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1) (60 page)

Jackson’s way of solving the contradiction was, for now, to hone his legal skills while he worked defense and keep his options open to crossing the floor later on.

Chapter 11

Late on a hot Thursday evening, Jackson was in the office grinding through a brief with a bottle of bourbon and Foo Fighters for company. He was pretty sure everyone had left, he’d already had the evening’s banter with Ella Mae, the cleaner.

Even over the guitar grind on the Zeppelin speaker, he heard her heels from the first click at the far end of the corridor. His heart banged in his chest and he stopped moving. He couldn’t think how she could have even got into the building.

He tried imagining that it wasn’t her. It was someone else. Or something else. It could have been someone pulling a flight bag with a clicking wheel. It could have. But he knew that it wasn’t.

Her hazy silhouette filled the frosted glass of Jackson’s office door and as she reached out for the handle he said, “What is it, Maryette? Why are you here and how did you get in?”

Her scent drifted in ahead of her. The light was behind her as she opened the door and stepped inside. Then she leaned back with her hands behind against the door her to close it.

“Good to see you, too, Jackson.” She looked at his hand on the tumbler. “Thanks, don’t mind if I do.”

“I didn’t offer you a drink, Maryette.”

“I’m minding your manners for you, as it seems you misplaced them.” With her hips tilted forwards and her feet apart, she looked down at Jackson.

“Why are you here, Maryette?”

“You mean apart from the atmosphere and the welcome?”

He scraped his chair as he stood. It rattled behind him. He opened the file drawer and reached in for another glass.

He splashed bourbon into the tumbler and pushed it across his desk. “Yeah, apart from those. And the view, of course.”

She moved to the desk to pick up the glass. His stomach hardened and his mouth dried. His blood beat in his chest. Jackson realized that the effect of her scent, the effect of her, was showing at the front of his pants.

He could think of no way to hide it that wouldn’t be a dumb and obvious attempt to do exactly that, which would defeat the point. If there was a point.
 

“I’m not going to wait ten years for McGee, Jackson. I’ve told him.”

“That must have brightened his day in Clark County Detention.”

“He didn’t send a card.”

“Oh, how did you tell him? By text?”

“Jackson, do you want to talk about McGhee some more?”

“Okay, no. What do you want me to do about it?”

“We both know the answer to that, Jackson.”

Jackson’s toes clenched as he chewed his lip. She tapped one foot as she took a bite of the whiskey.

“What is it about you, Jackson Sage? Why am I constantly running into you?”

“Maryette, I think you want to run into me.”

“I do, Jackson. I wasn’t saying I don’t But, why? I’m a congenital outlaw and you’re a goddamned lawyer.”

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood. “Maryette, it’s impossible. Frank Gracey has made it so there would always be a doubt about whether I had an interest in McGhee going to jail.”

“Jackson, do you really think anyone cares about that? He didn’t have a chance and nothing you could have said or done would have made the slightest difference.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at her. Her eyes flashed, “That isn’t what this is about, Jackson.” She looked hard at him and her green eyes made his heart race.

His chest was hammering. She said, “I know what I want, Jackson. Do you know what you want?”

When he didn’t move, Maryette began slowly to unbutton her shirt. “Stop that!” Jackson crossed the floor in a stride and he was on her.

“Jackson, I thought you weren’t interested.” Her buttons were open, all the way down. “Why do you care if my shirt’s done up or not?” She wasn’t wearing a bra. He watched her breasts rise and swell.

She turned and looked over her shoulder as she lifted the hem of her skirt, “Can you see if my seams are straight, Jack? I think it looks so slutty when your seams are all in a mess.”

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around. Her eyes were down and she said, “Oh,” as her body crashed into his. Her leather skirt pressed against his swelling cock.

When she looked up his eyes were blazing. She whispered, “Is it time for you to tell me how bad I am, Jack? Are you going to punish me now?”

He seized her hair and yanked her head back as he planted his lips on hers. Her thighs spread wider as her pelvis rubbed against his. Her mouth was open and her breath filled him. Her soft breasts pushed against his shirt and her hardening nipples rubbed his chest.

He held his thumb along her long, soft throat. Her hands grabbed his tight buttocks as they clenched. His veins thrummed. His hands were in her shirt. He cupped and squeezed her breasts, big, soft and heaving. She moaned as he pulled on her nipples.

Her hands slid up and down his strong back, clawing lightly at his shirt. Her mound pushed up and down on the length of his cock. He grabbed her tightened buttocks and lifted her.

He spun around and carried her with a single step to the desk. Her arms waved behind her. The law books and his laptop scattered and fell to the floor. With a sweep of his arm he cleared the desk.

As he laid her across the surface his mouth fell onto her breasts. She clawed his hair as he sucked on her nipples. His hands dragged her leather skirt up to her waist. On the heels of her hands and her ass she crawled backwards on the table-top.

When he crawled above her, her hands found his belt and pulled it loose. Before she opened his pants, her fingers explored his length and his girth, testing his hardness. After she opened his fly and found him, hot and hard, she slid down between his legs.

With his fingers grasping her hair her lips opened wide and slid wet and warm over his throbbing cock. Her tongue slipped along his underside and she looked up at him. Her mouth sucked as she took him all the way to the back.

She made a gurgling little growl as she slid him into the gripping wet muscles of her throat. Pulses rose through his stomach and his chest and his thighs tightened as Maryette’s mouth suckled lasciviously on his rigid cock.

All of his muscles twitched and sang and he dragged her off him by the hair. The sweet agony as her lips dragged his swollen shaft made his neck redden and his veins bulged.

She crawled back along the desk beneath him, looking up into his face. “Come on, Jackson. Come on, get it done.” His cock felt the wet buzz of her sheer black panties as her hips rocked under him. “Fuck me, Jackson.”

He ripped her knickers. Her mouth sagged open and the lips of her hot puss rubbed either side along his twitching cock. She gasped as she pushed her clit against him. As he lifted her buttocks, her thighs parted still wider.

His head swam in the scents of her. Her soft labia licked along him, pressing harder. His stomach muscles tensed and buzzed. Her hips rolled and pushed with a rising urgency.
 

He dragged his cock down, between her thighs. Her mouth opened as he slid it under her, along her channel. As he dragged it slowly back and forth her mouth fastened on his neck. Her hands clutched his clenching buttocks and she sighed as she pulled him harder against her. Her lips and mound slid wet along his ridged column.

His breath was hot on her neck and in her ear as he moved to drag the bulb into her soft opening. Her legs fell wider and her breath caught in her throat.

As his hard girth entered her, her legs clamped around him. Her arms fell over his shoulders and her breasts squeezed and rubbed against his chest. Her teeth bit into the side of his neck.

As he slid deeper into her, her breath fluttered and halted. Her chest shook and her stomach vibrated as her pelvis pressed to take him farther inside.

He reared up and his back stretched. Her eyes pleaded up at him. The heels of her shoes scratched his back as her ankles knotted behind him. Her hands grabbed his hair, stroked his face, clawed his back as her spine arced upwards.

Beads of sweat dropped onto her from his forehead and his chest. He felt a rising, swelling pulse and her ass tipped higher. The small ‘o’ of her mouth shook and he slammed between her hungry walls.

Pulling on his shoulders, Maryette’s mouth fastened on Jack’s neck as she slid her sex on his in rhythm. The tide rose. The pace quickened. The rhythm beat faster and she moaned as he held her by the hair.

Her stomach fluttered and pulsated. Her breasts swelled and heaved. His cock pulsed and vibrated. He filled her and they came. Together their moans cracked into grating shouts. Their throats roared. She soaked him as his bolts of jizz cannoned into her well.

Twisting, straining, trying to find every angle, their savage hips attacked each other, every way they could. Her eyes arched in triumph and total loss. Her wet breath growled.

He gasped and panted, momentarily exhausted. She looked up and he saw her. She was his. He had to keep her now.

Epilogue

Jackson and Maryette had two daughters. From the very start, Tiffany and Jesska were quite different. Tiffany was always happy, open and smiling. She wanted to play, to learn and whatever was going on, she wanted to join in and help.

With Jesska, it was always like she had a cloud following her around, something dark that nobody else could see.

When Jesska’s cloud did finally show itself, it was all too late. Jesska changed everything.

Ride Forever

Alice May Ball

Cara walked in the woods at early evening time. The low scents of the undergrowth and the distant rustle of the stream calmed and refreshed her spirits as the dusk drew down.
 

The soft scrunch of the woodland carpet, the sound of birds as they fluttered in the trees and called to each other, tiny creatures scuttled and scrambled, and the tapestry of color gave her a setting where her thoughts could run loose and roam free, uncoil and relax.
 

By a fallen oak carpeted with moss and ancient ivy on one such evening, near the sound of the stream
 
Cara heard sparkles of laughter, mixed with other sounds, and they burst into sprays of giggles and moans.
 

Looking past the great trunk fallen trunk covered in moss and ivy, she saw the flame red curls of one of the gypsy girls, her green eyes shining and wet and her green dress off her milky shoulders. Her soft round breasts almost burst out as she leaned forwards.

In the shade of the undergrowth behind the girl stood a man, swarthy and in a loose collarless white shirt, thick dark brown vest and wide brown corduroy pants. His hands gripped on the girl’s hips. Her dress and her white slip were pulled up high above her waist. Her creamy buttocks and thighs were bare to her high white cotton stockings. The man’s hips and the girl’s bucked and rolled together and she giggled and gasped.

 
Cara was about to look away when the man looked up. He caught her eye and a dark, sly grin spread across his face. The girl scowled and pouted, but Brendan waved for
 
Cara to come over.
 

At that moment,
 
Cara saw the strawberry blonde tresses of the other gypsy girl, bobbing and peeking up from below the couple.

The man’s eye was fixed on
 
Cara’s. His voice was low and thick as he said, “Would you not come and join us?” The two girls’ full soft breasts shook thrillingly as they giggled.

 
Cara turned and walked smartly back to town.

For some nights afterwards, dreams of an unfamiliar kind disturbed and invaded
 
Cara’s sleep. In the mornings she took cold showers, she used a little foundation and concealer and she wore a fresh cologne.

She even took an extra cup of strong coffee, but anyone who knew her or cared about her would see at once that she was tired and weary.

Cara’s Emporium stood at the top of the steep hill that led into town. The establishment had been run by a woman from the family as far back as anyone could remember, although
 
Cara was a very distant cousin indeed.

Nobody knew for sure how long the shop itself had perched there overlooking the little town, but it went back all the way through the twentieth century, maybe even farther. The exact nature of some of its former businesses was also unclear, but it was believed, in its time, to have been a haberdashery, a bookstore and once a small and very exclusive dining room.

It was said also that there had been a saloon on the premises, and perhaps even a saloon in the looser sense of the word as it was often used in the eighteenth century. A place where men came to drink, to gamble and meet women of a certain profession. But that may all have been tattle and talk.
 

 
Cara took over the store from Sarah, who took time and trouble over introducing her to the people of the town. Sarah told
 
Cara all that she knew about the history of the establishment, about its successes and its struggles, about the lives and times of the women who had run businesses there before
 
Cara and before Sarah herself.

Sarah told her, “The town will take time to accept you, and so I hope you have some savings,
 
Cara.”
 
Cara had a little put by. Maybe it would be enough. “Make a plan that’s your own,” Sarah said, “Make it a plan that you’re sure of in your heart, and then stick to your path. Don’t be drawn astray and do not compromise.”

At first,
 
Cara thought that she would fit the store out only to sell her boutique selection of bourbons and specially imported cigars, but as she was planning the rich, dark wood and polished glass cabinets and counters, her own chocolates that she hand made for herself seemed to have a natural place among the polished trays.

Silver and golden trays of little chocolate delights and simple dark and light bars sat next to the humidor of thick Caribbean panatelas, coronas, Churchills and Presidentes, dappled in the amber glow from the bourbons behind the glass in the tall, polished mahogany cabinets behind.