The Hitman’s Angel

Margaret plucks at the bow holding the sides of her sheer robe together. My mouth dries up at the sound of silk sliding on silk. With nimble fingers, she begins to part the sides of her robe, but turns before I can get an unobstructed look at her tits and pussy. What I get instead is see-through material dropping away to reveal her high, plump, little butt cheeks in a baby blue thong and my dick jerks, releasing a spurt of semen into my pants.

My groan is obscene. “Margaret. I will one day eat that pretty ass to kingdom come.”

She gasps and looks back at me over her shoulder. “You…you’re already seeming pleased and I haven’t even started.”

“Yes, angel, it pleases me to look at you a great fucking deal.”

Something new dances across her expression. Something like confidence. She reaches back and unhooks her bra. Keeping it cupped to her tits, she turns and after a brief hesitation, straddles my lap. I’m barely recovered from the sight of her belly and the stretched silk over her pussy when her weight settles onto my thighs—and she slides closer by accident, her cunt colliding with my bulge, our mouths coming within an inch of each other. “Oh,” she whimpers as I try not to come. “I guess I need some practice.”

“Da,” I say hoarsely, rolling my hips and panting at the sensation of silky pussy dragging on my dress pants. “As long as this practice happens on Lenin’s lap only.”

A puff of air leaves her. “You’re so affected by me,” she whispers in awe. “I thought this would make me feel small and nervous, but…is it strange that I feel in control of what’s happening for the first time…ever?”

I like the excited bloom of color on her cheeks, so I lift my hips again and her coloring deepens, a quiet moan passing her lips. Yes. Responsive girl. Margaret is going to soak my sheets in her come as soon as I can manage it. I’m going to gratify her until she forgets the direction of the sky. “Do you feel this way because I promised not to touch you?”

“Yes. You’re letting me feel free, but…” Beneath hooded eyelids, she scrutinizes my face and looks almost shy. “There’s something about you that makes me want to stay…”

My chest floods with pride and relief. “You’ve been lacking in control, my poor angel,” I lean forward and breathe into her neck, vowing to put a diamond necklace there. “I’m sorry. Take it now. Take, if it will make you trust me.”

Her exhale is uneven, her head falling back. A beat of time passes wherein I sense her softening, giving me an inch of trust. Perhaps even allowing her body to explore what I’m making it feel. I groan loudly when her pussy finally begins to circle on my cock and we lock eyes. Drowsy, innocent girl ones versus those of a starved, seasoned male.

“D-do you want to see me here?” Margaret murmurs, leaning back and indicating her still-covered tits. Only the lace cups remain and she needs only drop the bra and I’ll be looking upon her breasts fully. No barrier. “Do you, Lenin?”

My hips thrust upward violently at her saying my name and I growl. Her expression is startled—yet excited—when she gains air, her backside smacking back down into my lap a split second later. “Show me.” My fingers dig into the back of the leather couch. “Please.”

Seeming to hold her breath, she drops the bra and I rip through the leather, balling the shreds of it in my shaking fists. Her breasts are round and tipped in pink. Jiggly little things that make my mouth water and once again test my willpower. One flip and she’d be flat on her back. She might not even fight me if I shoved her legs open and fucked this lust away. Lust I’ve never felt for anyone but her.

“I love this,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “I’m not sure I should.”

“Anything with me is right, angel. Shake your pretty tits at me, torture and tease me with that virgin hole between your thighs and you will stay safe. You understand me? Lenin keeps you safe. Even from himself. Always.”

“I’ve never felt like this…” she muses, arching her back and riding my cock with tight, sexy hip thrusts, tempting my balls to explode with every sensual movement. “Like what I want…matters.” A shudder passes through her. “Lenin. Oh. That feels g-good.”

I’m groaning so loud I can barely hear, but I struggle to retain what she’s telling me. The way to Margaret’s trust—and maybe even her heart—is to give her back some of the control she’s been lacking. That’s been taken away from her. If it means she’ll stay mine, I’ll give her anything. The universe will be hers. Especially if taking back control means she rubs her sweetheart pussy on my dick. I can keep a leash on my willpower. I can do that for Margaret. For her, I will suffer through anything. And maybe when she trusts me more, I will be given the gift of my hands on her perfect, peachy skin.