Hawk (Sex and Bullets 2)

Part I

BULLETS

It’s raining outside, a relentless drizzle beating against the windows of the limo. We’re rolling through the streets of Baltimore at a leisurely pace, and I can’t for the life of me tell you where we’re going.

Maybe it doesn’t matter, though I have a feeling it does.

As we come to a stop at a traffic light, the driver looks at me through the rear-view mirror. His face is blurred, indistinct. Weirdly twisted.

Frowning, I press the button to make the partition between us opaque, then lean back against the white leather seat and tug on my short beard.

Weird.

Then the door opens and, along with a gust of cold, in climbs Hot Body, long legs and black stilettos, long dark hair and red lipstick.

Oh yeah, much better.

I grin and reach for her, my body tightening with desire. “Come here, Gorgeous.”

“We weren’t supposed to meet today.”

Ah fuck, okay. Maybe that’s what felt off. “But we are.”

Her skin is warm and soft, her eyes wide and dark when I slip her coat off her shoulders and run my hands over her curves, barely covered by a mini skirt and a tiny top. Her long auburn hair is soft, her skin like satin.

Familiar need zips down my nerves. Blood rushes into my dick as I push her back against the seat and shove a leg between hers.

“Here?” she whispers, her voice husky, her eyes darting to the opaque partition.

“Right here.” Her hands are on my shoulders, and I let her hold on to me—for now—while I suck on her neck and run my hand under her skirt, into her lacy panties. I push a finger into her tight pussy and stroke her, looking for her G-spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet, Hot Body.”

“Layla.” She moans when I twist my finger, angling it deeper. “My name’s Layla.”

“So hot.” I’m panting, burning with need. It’s been a stressful couple of months, and this girl’s sexy as hell. My dick’s drilling a hole through my pants, and I shift, uncomfortable. “Need to be inside you, babe.”

Her gaze darts again to the partition, and damn, it makes me so horny that she’s angsting about that, about my chauffeur ogling us.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you scream,” I inform her, because that’s really my intention, and I don’t give a shit if my chauffeur listens in. I pull down her panties and draw in her scent of arousal. “Until you’re flushed all over and writhing on the leather.”

“Promises, promises,” she whispers in that sexy as fuck raspy voice she gets when she’s excited and reaches for my zipper, dragging it down, palming my dick through the thin cotton of my boxer briefs.

It feels so damn good I grab her hand and stop her, or we’ll never make it to the fucking and screaming part. “Easy.”

“Want you.” She licks her lips and I groan. “Want your dick inside me.”

Biting the inside of my cheek to control myself, when she’s spread out all silky skin and wet pussy beneath me, I push down on my dick, telling it to take it easy, too.

My dick informs me in no uncertain terms that we’re doing this right the fuck now. Then Hot Body reaches down to rub her clit, and I lose the battle.

“Ready, Gorgeous?” I do my best to get her ready every time, as I’m not small and I don’t wanna hurt her, but she only moans and writhes, and fuck it. Drawing my dick out of my briefs, I give it a good squeeze and a stroke, and I settle between her legs.

I push inside her. She wraps her legs around my hips and her arms around my neck, dragging me down for a kiss as I push deeper, but I turn my head. I don’t want to swallow the sounds escaping her. I wanna hear them.

“Bastard,” she hisses, then shudders and pants. Her nails rake the skin at the back of my neck. “Oh God.”

We’re good at this, Hot Body and me. We’ve been fucking for almost a year now, on and off. We have chemistry. We’re good together when it comes to fucking—all that I’ll ever allow between us.

And I’m fucking her now, long, deep thrusts that make her cry out and lift her hips to meet me halfway. It feels amazing. It feels perfect, so then why…?

Why is it suddenly so damn cold, and why is everything fading to black?

Chapter One

Hawk

Fuck, something’s wrong.

The thought fills my head, expanding like a bubble, growing and growing until the top of my skull is about to blow off.

Something’s fucking wrong, and I’m smack in the middle of it.

Okay, recap. Layla isn’t here, and we’re not in my limo. That wasn’t real. I haven’t seen her in weeks, kept my distance. And I’m fucking cold.

Where the hell am I?

If I could open my eyes… That might help, right? It’s a damn struggle, though, and I frown. My hair is a tangled mess over my face. My mouth feels filled with cotton, my tongue too big.

Jeez, I must’ve been on a hell of a bender last night. Funny that I don’t remember a thing. Such a waste of alcohol.

But when my lashes finally lift, I wish they hadn’t, because, son of a bitch. Ow. The light cuts into my eyeballs like a knife. Quickly I bow my head and press my eyes shut.