Saved By The Hitman

“You want me to wear this?” she says.

I move up behind her – we’re alone, Patricia and Rebel elsewhere in the house – and drive my rock hard manhood against her ass cheeks.

I reach around and hug my arms across her middle, trapping her against me.

She shivers when I bring my lips close to her ear.

“You’ll wear whatever the fuck I want,” I growl.

“I’ll look ridiculous—”

“Quiet,” I snap. “You’ll look incredible. You’ll look heavenly. You’ll look like my personal fuck toy. You’ll look however I want you to look. So stop your pouting. Otherwise, I might change my mind.”

She swivels in my grip – I relax the tension in my arms just enough to let her, but still, keep her pushed up close against me – and throws a tilted-head sassy look up at me.

“Change your mind about what?” she says.

“About dinner,” I snarl. “We can’t go to a restaurant, for obvious reasons. But that balcony out there is heated. I’ve done a little recon and there are no lines of sight onto the balcony. I’m going to cook us some steaks and watch as the heated flooring moves up through that body of yours, making every part of you red and hot, ready to be devoured by me. Now, are you going to wear the dress or not?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” she laughs, “I don’t really feel like I can say no.”

I smooth my hand down her body and then give her a short, soft spank on the ass, watching as lust makes her eyes all hazy.

She lets out a moan and wriggles against me.

“You dirty thing,” I smirk. “You liked that, didn’t you? You like being this killer’s personal little slut, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she moans. “Oh, God, yes.”

“Save it for later,” I growl with an effort, stepping back.

“L-later?” she says.

“After dinner,” I tell her, “I’m taking that cunt. I’m tired of waiting. Understand, Juliana? I’m pounding that pussy and putting my seed in you. Or you can tell me you don’t want it – you can lie – and I’ll try my best to resist you. But it’s getting too hard already.”

I walk through the bedroom toward the balcony, the steaming plates in my hands.

Rebel and Patricia are elsewhere in the house. Juliana’s friend agreed to take care of the dog so that we could have some alone time together.

My cock is pulsating at the prospect of it.

I walk onto the balcony, the heat of the floor and the tactically-placed heaters blasting away the winter cold the moment I step out. I’m wearing one of my suits, wanting to make the occasion as special as I can despite the warped circumstances.

Juliana looks as incredible in the dress as I knew she would. It hugs intimately to her body, outlining her every curve, her body glittering and sparkling with something like starlight. She’s let her hair down, cascading to her shoulders. She’s not wearing any makeup, making her look natural and gorgeous, her cheeks flushed red from the heat of the balcony.

I have to focus hard to stop my hands from trembling with lust as I put the plates on the table.

“Here’s your steak, madam,” I joke. “Crispy and borderline inedible, just how you like it.”

She giggles, throwing me a look that makes my chest tighten.

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t want mine basically raw like a savage.”

I grin at her across the table, or maybe it’s more that I bare my teeth like a wolf.

“I am a savage, Juliana. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

Her cheeks bloom an even deeper shade of red. She turns her gaze to the backyard, long and wide, purposefully so. I chose this place because the geography of the backyard made it relatively private. When you’re close to the house – or right at the end – it’s impossible for the other houses to see you.

I checked.

“It’s such a beautiful night,” she murmurs.

She’s not wrong.

The sky is clear, a million stars gazing down at us, winking and illuming. The balcony is lit with soft orange lamps, but we hardly need it with all the natural night-time luminescence pouring down.

We turn to our food, eating in comfortable silence for a few moments.

I’m stunned by how at ease I feel.

I don’t have that on-alert feeling, which is bad.

It means I’m probably letting myself slip too deeply into the intimate heat of the dinner.

But at the same time, the alarms are set, the gate is locked and the walls are high. I’ll know the second anybody tries to step foot on the property—our property, not just mine, because I’m already thinking of everything as shared.

“So, you want to be a successful event planner?” I ask her.

She nods, her blush spreading down her neck and across her chest.

Fuck, I wonder if other parts of her are getting red, too.