Hawk (Sex and Bullets 2)

She slides her hands up my face, digs her fingernails into my scalp, and I welcome the sting. Her body is warm against mine, soft curves molding over my hard lines. I steal the air from her lungs, and she moans in my mouth.

She’s somehow naked, lush and silky under my touch, pliant and warm. Familiar and exciting. I slide my hand to the front of her, find her mound, shaved clean and soft. I part the lips of her pussy, stroke her swollen clit.

Slipping a finger inside her pussy, I stroke her, slow and deep. Her head falls back, and she moans. The feel of her wetness on my fingers makes me so hard I’m about to bust a nut just from that.

I know what she likes. I use my other hand to stroke the seam of her round ass as I fuck her with my finger, squeeze her ass cheek, then put my mouth on her tits. Pillow-soft with rosy, hard nipples to lick and suck on, and she whispers my name before clenching around my finger and coming, her hips rocking.

God, I need to be inside her. Sliding my finger out of her, smearing her wetness on her thighs, I guide her to me, pull her on top of my hard-on.

Somehow I’m naked, too, bared, and for the first time ever I’m not hiding, not hiding my every weakness.

“Layla.” It’s as if speaking her name, at last, has broken a barrier. The sound tastes sweet on my lips, like candy.

My cock pushes into her, and we both gasp as I push deep into her, as deep as I can go. Hell, yeah, this is it. Her hot body joined to mine, around my cock, her arms around my shoulders. It’s the closest to home I’ve felt in a long time.

Our bodies move together, slow, then faster, faster and harder, until the pleasure crests, bowls me over, and I’m left gasping and holding empty air in my arms.

The cold is back.

I blink and wake up to find myself in the empty, frigid warehouse, lying on the bare floor, my body aching, my release cold and wet in my pants.

Disoriented. Alone.

Fuck. It was just another dream, and I’m back in hell…

***

They arrive with a bang and crash of the doors against the wall that makes me flinch before I can hide it.

“Time for my morning massage?” I drawl, shifting where I’m sitting on the floor, my back to the pillar, trying in vain to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “I want my eggs sunny side up, and my coffee black. Thought you might wanna know.”

“Shut your smartass mouth,” the guy who enters snaps. It’s not one I’ve seen or heard speak before. He heads straight for the discarded blindfold and approaches me to tie it back on.

“You don’t need that,” I mutter, prepared to fight him. “I already told your Boss, I’m doing this. Hell, I turned in my parents for the privilege. When will he just fucking tell me—”

He shoves me back against the pillar and presses the black cloth to my eyes, and I let him, because this is the least of my problems right now, and I have to make this credible. Make them believe I mean every word I say.

Believe I’m all in.

So I sit still as he finishes blindfolding me and then ties my hands behind my back. Thankfully he stops at that, and I slump back against the pillar, running a new mantra through my head.

Almost there. Almost there. Almost fucking there.

Just one more day.

“Ready to play now, boy?” the Boss’s voice booms, and it bothers me that I didn’t hear his footsteps beforehand.

Goddammit, I hate surprises. They put you at a disadvantage. Turn you into the weak link, the losing party.

I hate being the losing party, and dammit, I hate being deaf and blind, even if it’s mostly temporary. But at least they didn’t gag me again.

“Depends. You still haven’t told me what you expect from me. And I sure as hell haven’t gotten any reassurances from you yet.”

“You will get what you’re after,” the Boss says and then something I don’t hear, goddammit.

“You haven’t even told me your fucking name.” I tilt my head up, even though I can’t see the guy. “If I’m gonna play, I want to know the players. I don’t deal with anonymous, invisible partners.”

“Not until I’m sure you’re one hundred percent on board.”