Saved By The Hitman

“Okay,” I say, nodding, acutely aware that it’s just the two of us.

The door to the bedroom is closed and Rebel is making no noise. If she wanted to come out here, she’d make it known, but she normally sleeps like a stone past midnight and despite all the excitement, it seems she’s sticking to that routine.

No, it’s just us, in this underground apartment with the soft yellow lighting, dappling Jett’s features, making some parts of him dark and other parts blazing bright.

“What do you want me to do?”

He grins like a wolf, like a killer, and then leans back on the sofa, folding one leg over the other. He couldn’t look more comfortable if he tried.

“Dance for me,” he snarls.

I let out a gasp and almost laugh, the request is so unexpected.

All of the secret longings inside of me rises up and sings a song of celebration.

Some deep part of me swells and screams at the prospect, because this proves it, doesn’t it, proves that he wants me. He feels the same way I feel about him.

He wants me.

“Juliana,” he snaps. “Did I stutter? I said dance for me. Now. I don’t want to ask you again.”

“What happens if you have to ask me again, hmm?” I fire, somehow bringing some bite into my voice.

“I bend you over and spank those big beautiful ass cheeks of yours until they’re red-raw. Now hurry. The fuck. Up.”

“There’s no music.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls. “Dance. Make sure to shake that ass and those tits, too. I’ll give you instructions along the way.”

“You’re an animal,” I whisper.

His whole face has changed, his eyes narrowing in feral desire. His pants show the throbbing outline of his need for me, a massive thick bulge that he doesn’t even try to conceal.

I stand up, slowly, knowing that I can’t do anything but what this man wants of me.

I don’t want to do anything else.

I want to please him.

And we had a deal, right?

Chapter Seven

Jett

“That’s it,” I snarl, my eyes fixated on the way her shirt hugs to those massive, gorgeous breasts, the trousers hugging onto her hips.

The nervousness flitting across her features just gets the engines of my want firing with even more urgency. My cock gives another near-painful throb, the base of it taut with tension, ready to erupt at any moment.

Her cheeks are red with her inexperience, my sassy fucking queen.

“How old are you, Juliana?” I snarl, as she moves to the center of the room, just in front of the TV.

“Twenty-one,” she murmurs.

“Almost half my age,” I snarl with a smirk.

The beast inside of me – the one that I’ve never shown to any woman, that I never even wanted to let loose – is howling and battering its horn against its cage. Something is untethering within me. She’s doing it to me, inexorably.

She’s changing me.

It feels like freedom.

“Does that bother you?” I ask her. “That I’m almost twice your age?”

“No,” she says, looking me bravely in the eye. “I hate boys my own age. They’re so immature. They’re not … like you.”

“Good girl,” I snarl.

Goddamn, twenty-one years old, fresh-faced with her fertility marking every single part of her, her passion-enflamed cheeks and her ready-to-be-milked tits and her begging-for-my-seed slit.

Somehow, I’m forgetting about the rest of this night, the contract and the war, and the men in her apartment.

All I see is her, standing anxiously before me, unsure of what to do.

“Sway those hips,” I snap. “And rub your tits at the same time. Push them together for me. Squeeze them like you mean it.”

“Oh, God. You want me to …”

“I want every single fucking part of you,” I roar, sitting forward, almost springing up and darting across the room. “I want your hot nipples and your creamy fucking cunt. I want your ass, I want to turn it red as I spank it and make you shiver like the horny girl you clearly are. I want to taste your cream as I eat your delicious fucking cunt. Do you understand? Now stop asking questions and do what you’re told.”

I reach a hand down and start stroking myself, smirking when her eyes flit to the movement.

I don’t give a damn.

She can look all she wants.

She’ll be doing more than looking soon enough.

“Like this, Jett?” she murmurs, bringing her trembling hands up to her round breasts, palming them through her shirt.

I stroke from my base to the tip, my throbbing, hard length all tangled in my trousers.

At the same time as rubbing those tits, she’s swaying this way and that, highlighting her hips.

But I’m not interested in just her hips, as absolutely incredible as they are.

“Turn around. Shake that ass.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before—”

I surge to my feet, that other thing – that beast inside me – taking over now. The haze of my desire for her is too loud, too difficult to hear through.