Inch by inch, he sinks deeper, the fullness overwhelming, bordering on pain but laced with undeniable pleasure. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grits out. "God, I'm gonna explode so hard… This ass is mine now. You understand?" He holds perfectly still, as if he'll lose it if he moves an inch. "No one gets to fuck you ever again. Your ass is mine."
"Yes, sir," I moan, pushing back to take more. "All yours."
He bottoms out with a groan that matches mine and then he's thrusting, and the friction is incredible. I arch into him, claw at his sides, and pant, because it's so overwhelming, I don't know what else to do.
"God, you feel incredible," he praises. "Beg me to fuck you harder."
"Please, harder," I manage, but I'm so breathless.
He grips my hips and slams in deeper, the rhythm turning punishing. "Like that? My cock owning your ass?"
"Yes, fuck yes," I whimper, and I can't believe how close I am again.
He reaches between us and finds my clit again as he says, "You're gonna come one more time, Sabine. Come with my dick in your ass, screaming for more."
His thrusts speed up, his fingers working me expertly. The dual sensation pushes me closer and closer to another peak and all I can do is hold on for the ride. His fingers press exactly where I need them and I lose it.
“Come now,” he whispers against my ear. “I’ve got you.”
The climax hits like a slow explosion. My entire body tightens, then releases in powerful, rolling spasms. Every muscle flutters, my ass clenching rhythmically around his thick length in long, milking pulses that drag a broken cry from my throat. Heat floods outward in waves, thighs shaking, toes curling, breath stuttering as pleasure surges and recedes, surges again, until I’m gasping, dizzy, utterly spent.
The tight grip of my orgasm pulls him over too. He groans a raw, feral sound as his hips jerk forward, burying himself to the root. His cock swells impossibly thicker, then throbs in long, heavy beats I feel inside me. Each pulse shoots thick, hot spurts deep as his whole body locks rigidly. His arms crush me close, breath ragged against my neck, every shudder and twitch echoing through me until the last slow pulse fades and he’s trembling in my arms.
The comedown is almost as incredible as the release, though I'd rather stay in his arms and sleep it off rather than having to goin to work. He pulls out, then drags me down the bed until he's spooned around me and our limbs are tangled. Then his lips find mine as he holds me and this time, the kiss is sensitive and erotic, unnerving me more than coming with his fingers in my ass and his eyes locked on mine.
I let this man who's a trained killer fuck me in my own bed. And I enjoyed it. My fucking God, did I enjoy it. He murdered Ethan Caldwell right in front of me, and he confessed to at least four other murders of people I know. And here I am in his arms with my pussy dripping moisture from how incredible he made me feel.
"You're quiet," he says against the side of my face.
"I just fucked the man who was hired to kill me… I have some thoughts…" I feel his lips curl into a smile as he presses a kiss to my cheek.
"Are you glad I let you live now?" There's that dark chuckle that unravels me, and I turn to face him.
"What the fuck is happening here?" I ask him, and his eyes search me for a moment, but he doesn't speak. I don’t think either of us was prepared for such a spark to happen.
I didn’t kill him when I had the chance because I'm not a killer. I just wanted information which led to wanting help with the job I knew I couldn’t do alone. But he is a killer. And he's had several chances to kill me without any resistance. Yet I'm here…
"I should get dressed for work…" I tell him, pulling away, and some tiny part of me wishes he'd stop me and pull me back down. But he doesn't. Jace watches me climb off the bed and walk to my dresser. He pulls the sheet over his naked body as I take out an outfit and start dressing. And he never looks awayas I finish getting ready and then perch on the side of the bed to don my boots.
"I'll get the intel today, but I need you to be ready to move if I call you. I don’t know what's going to happen once I break protocol, but I have to have you for backup if things go pear shaped."
"Of course," he says, and his hand slides along the curve of my hip. "Anything you need."
It makes me uncomfortable that he's so calm and attentive. Yesterday, he was cold and withdrawn, and now he's just—different.
Different is good, right? It means maybe he's not thinking about killing me anymore, even though I'm on his list. But that could be scarier still. Do I really want to get tangled up in his world of hitmen and drug smugglers? That's who I'm hunting right now.
"You can use my computer… No password… See what you can find out about the others. Just be ready if I call." I pick up his phone from the nightstand and type in my number to text myself, and when my phone chimes he leans forward and kisses my thigh, still cradling my hip with his other hand.
This is not a partnership.
I don’t know what this is.
I don't know what I did.
And I have no clue what's going to happen now.
"Be safe," he says, and that's my cue to leave.
