Saved By The Hitman

We all pause at the bottom of the stairs, Rebel cooing as she snuggles closer to Patricia’s chest.

It’s impossible to hate my best friend – my parents’ best friend – when Rebel is clearly still so in love with her.

“Patricia, if you go to the top of the stairs and turn left, walk right to the end, you’ll find a furnished guest bedroom there with an ensuite. I’ll go out tomorrow and get some food and some change of clothes. But for now, let’s just try and get some rest. Come on, Juliana. I’ll take us to our room.”

Our room.

The phrase sends a shiver through me, starting in my chest and ricocheting through my whole body. He speaks with such casual command, as though the very concept of being refused has never entered his mind.

It might be arrogant with other men, but with him, it just makes me want to cuddle close to him and let him protect me from the horrors of the world.

I say goodbye to Rebel, tickling her behind the ear, and then exchange a significant look with Patricia.

She clearly wants to know who Jett is, what our relationship is. From knowing her for so long, I can read that she thinks I’ve known Jett for longer than this evening. We must come across like that with the way we talk together, the casual intimacy and closeness.

His hand still on my back – tingling, soothing – he leads me up the stairs and to a door at the end of the hallway.

He pushes it open to reveal a large room with a king size bed in the middle, the sheets jet black and simple. The room is mostly empty, but just like in the rest of the house, I can imagine the plush rugs that could go in here, a seating area in the middle. The balcony would be a gorgeous place to have breakfast together every morning. We could put a bar or a vinyl record player in one corner.

He closes the door behind me and then moves forward, wrapping his arms around me, his torso pressed solidly against my back. He pulls me toward him and brings his lips down to my ear, his breath tickling hotly.

“One hell of a night, eh?” he growls.

“Yeah,” I murmur, laughing at the insanity of it all. “One hell of a night.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jett

Juliana walks to the balcony window, looking out onto the night, her reflection in the dark glass causing the base of my cock to start throbbing again.

Now that we’re here – and I know that all the doors and windows are locked tight – I feel the beast awakening inside of me again.

Something carnal stirs deep within my chest, my pectorals tightening and bulging against my shirt.

Even in her makeshift outfit, with my pants all baggy on her, I can’t help but mentally tear her clothes off and remember how she looked naked. The curvaceous glory of her flesh, the way I could sink my hands into her ass cheeks when I had my mouth pressed close to her soaked center.

“This place really is amazing,” she murmurs.

“I got it by killing people,” I growl, but really it’s the monster inside me talking.

My dick is pulsating now.

My seed writhes inside of me, roaring at me to shove her roughly up against the glass and pry her legs apart with my knee, tear down those pants and just push myself up inside of her, ram into her savagely until the floor is slippery with her relentless releases.

She sucks in a breath at my words.

“Killing bad people,” she says.

“And you’re okay with that?” I snarl, stalking across the room toward her.

I have to be sure.

She turns to face me, biting her lip again in that way that fucks me up in a million different ways.

“Yes,” she says, standing up a little straighter, causing her breasts to jiggle alluringly.

Fuck, to taste milk from those pink nipples would be heaven.

I remember the way she came as I cradled her against my chest, my personal naked fuck-toy, came just from me sucking on those needy nipples of hers. I want to make her do it again, and again and again, only this time with a river of her mother’s milk gushing in time with her orgasm.

“I’m okay with it because I know you, Jett,” she murmurs. “I know how crazy that sounds. I know we only just met last night. But …”

She trails off.

I move across the room, reach up, and touch her chin to redirect her gaze to me. She trembles at my touch, as though she’s afraid I’m going to unleash myself upon her at any moment.

It’s not an unjust fear.

I’m constantly on edge, my last release all over those juicy breasts of hers already a distant memory.

My body hungers for more, more, more.