Knocked Up by the Killer

“You think you got me figured out,” I said, whispering in her ear. I forced her legs open and pressed my thick, hard shaft between her legs. She bit down on a moan as I rolled my hips. “You don’t know fucking shit.”

“I know what you show me,” she said. “And you act like… like this. Like an asshole.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up with that,” I said, pulling her hair. “You love it when I touch you. Love it when I fuck you. Lick your clit, bite your lip. Fuck, girl, you love this more than I do. I bet if I peeled those yoga pants off, your panties would be soaked through.”

“Fuck you,” she said, but she wiggled her hips and pressed tighter against me. “You think you’re so big and bad.”

“I think you want to suck my cock then ride me until you lose yourself in bliss. I think you like that I’m a big, bad killer. You act like you left the mob but you still want to fuck a bad boy.”

“You fucking prick.” She struggled, tried to slap me. I held her down and kissed her. She moaned into that kiss as I moved my hips faster, grinding against her spread legs.

“That’s right,” I said. “Fight it. Go ahead.”

“Fuck you.”

I released one wrist, pinned the other above her head. I reached down between her legs and shoved my hand down her pants. She gasped, pulled my hair, but I found her slick pussy.

“Dripping wet,” I said. “Pretend all you like. This doesn’t lie.”

“Asshole,” she said. “I can’t help it. You touch me. My body reacts.”

“You were dripping the second you walked in this room.” I rolled my fingers along her slit, spread her wide, found her clit. “You want me in that bed with you. You want me in that shower. You want to feel what a killer’s like. You had your one taste and now you can’t get enough.”

“Fuck,” she whispered, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fuck me,” I said. “That’s right. Ride my cock. Get nice and sweaty. Slide up and down my shaft. Shake that ass until I come between your lips.”

“Fuck,” she moaned and writhed her hips faster.

I rolled my fingers along her clit. She lunged forward, kissed me, bit my lip, and gasped. She fell back on the couch, her back arched, her hips rolling faster.

She came under my touch. She gasped, eyes completely rolled back, body trembling. I felt her get slick as I kept rolling my fingers along her clit. She looked like a fucking angel pinned beneath me, coming her brains out just from my touch.

I pulled my fingers out when she finished. I released her and stood up. She stayed there, panting, staring up at me with flushed cheeks.

I licked my fingers clean and tilted my head. “I’m taking a shower,” I said. “Scream if someone comes to the door.”

She just glared at me.

I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stood under the water. I spit into my palm and got myself off.

Couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t end up in bed with her tonight. I had to keep sharp, and fucking hell, all I wanted was to lose myself between her legs.

And I would, if I didn’t control myself.

When I was done, I turned the water cold and washed up.

And when I got out, I still wanted her.

Fucking hell.

This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.12EliseI thought being hunted by a crazy hitman intent on murdering the shit out of me would be really, really exciting.

Instead, I spent the most boring two weeks imaginable stuck in a gorgeous hotel room.

It was kind of fun at first. I ordered room service whenever I wanted it. Tanner watched a lot of old movies and worked out incessantly.

I sat on the couch and watched him do two hundred pushups.

Every single day.

One afternoon, the sun streaming in through the blinds, he finished his set and leaned back on his knees.

“Do another two hundred,” I said.

He gave me a look. “Don’t be funny.”

“Do it. But take your shirt off first.”

He smiled a little. “Is this some kind of challenge? Or a sexual thing?”

“Which will make you do it?” I asked.

“Either or.”

“Then consider it both.”

“Beautiful.” He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. “Ready for something truly magnificent?”

“Wow me, big man.”

He laughed and got to work. It took him an hour but he did it.

And the next day he complained about how sore his chest and arms felt.

Days blended. Mornings came and went. I begged him to let me go for a jog.

“Bad idea, mamacita,” he said.

“Come on. Bennigan hasn’t made a move. Maybe he doesn’t really know we’re here and that was some kind of bluff.”