Saved By The Hitman

Or maybe it’s that niggle at the edge of my mind, the whisper that this job is wrong. It’s too different from the way I’ve done things for over a decade now. There are too many variables.

I sigh darkly when I see a couple approaching, a man and woman I was talking with a few minutes ago about the stock price for some business I couldn’t give a damn about. We’re going to talk some more about it, I sense, and there’s nothing I can do but play the game, talking shit with a man I may be ending by the end of the night.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, a voice hisses in my head, a voice I haven’t heard on any job before now because I’ve always known that the world was a better place without my targets in it.

I step forward to greet them – I have no choice – when a woman darts into my path, walking unsteadily in heels, and then tumbles forward.

Time slows down as I take in the full figure of her, curvier than my wildest dreams. She’s wearing black pants and a shirt, but that does nothing to hide the gorgeous gradations of her body.

Her ass is full, big, beautifully so, the sort of ass that’s begging to be palmed and grabbed. Her tits are just the same, full, round enough to massage as I suck on them. And then my mind leaps to crazy places, like her nipples swelling with my child’s milk, and I don’t know what to make of that. Her hair is a deep oak color, tied up in a ponytail that bobs as she tumbles, in half speed, toward the floor.

I dart forward because I know at that moment that I’ll never let anything happen to her.

I’d die, I’d kill before I let anything hurt her.

I loop my arms around her waist and catch her before she falls, heaving her upright, feeling the blistering warmth of her body.

My hands come to rest on her wide hips, hips made for gripping as I ram roughly into her, using her voluptuous body in any way I see fit, slamming into her again and again until she’s panting and begging for more.

I can feel her flesh through her shirt, so hot it’s like my palms are on fire.

Something strange is happening here, something I’ve never experienced before.

I want her.

I need her.

I can’t begin to explain the explosion that tears through me, shattering everything I thought I knew.

But as I stand her upright and stare into her bright green eyes, something changes in me, something vital and important.

Reality flickers and for a second I see her standing in a form hugging dress, our children gathered all around her, her full lips quirked into a content smile, her full, healthy, sexy-as-fuck cheeks red from all the happiness bubbling up inside of her.

My cock pulses in my pants, suddenly rock hard, so hard it feels like it could explode.

“Whoah,” the woman says, leaning back in my embrace, her leafy green eyes flitting up and down me. “Thank you for that. These heels make walking so difficult.”

I keep my hands on her hips. Over her shoulder, the man and woman who’d been coming over to greet me veer off to another group with the casual expertise of career socialites.

I press my palms against her flesh, thinking I might drag her into a private room and bend her over, tear those pants down and get a proper look at those round ass cheeks of hers.

She’s shorter than me, but that’s not saying much. I’m almost seven foot. She must be about five nine or ten, which some men think is tall for a woman. But for me, it’s the perfect size.

I could handle her any damn way I wanted, pick her up, and slam her down onto my lap, my more-than-ready cock grinding into her again and again.

“Uh,” she whimpers, the sound like something she might do during sex, when I claim her, own her.

Already, she’s mine.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

“Uh, what?” I growl.

“Do you mind?”

She gestures to my hands on her hips, but I can tell by the way her cheeks blossom red that she doesn’t want me to let her go. No, she wants me to drag her closer, grind my rock hard manhood against her sex, make her feel a preview of the pleasure I’m going to give her every day for the rest of our lives.

“Yes,” I smirk, playing the cocky asshole. It’s easier than showing her the power she already has over me. “I do mind. I’m pretty comfortable, actually.”

She giggles but kills the sound a moment later. She knows she isn’t supposed to be laughing. She should be snapping at me to get the hell away from her. She doesn’t know me.