and
Clearly, I should not try to have a conversation with his dick anywhere near me because it turned my private thoughts into mandatory announcements.
His eyes rounded like two big saucers, and I braced myself for the fallout of an accidental love confession. Turned out the word love was not the inflammation in that sentence. It washitman.
“Who told you I’m a hitman?”
So me knowing his job was worse than me loving him.Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
He was looking at me like he expected me to spill the tea, but I wasn’t sure I should. I mean, I didn’t want Haz to get in trouble for telling me. Also, I wasn’t exactly sure, but it seemed like gossip was something that should stay between friends.
“I never should have left you alone with that half-pint,” he grouched, figuring out my source without me opening my mouth.
It really annoyed me that he called Haz that, and I started to lift off his lap, which made me grumpyandannoyed because I wasn’t ready to move.
His hands, which had fallen away, slapped back around my hips, anchoring me in place. “Don’t even think about it.”
Obviously, I’d already thought it because I was already in motion.Duh.
Despite his ironclad hold, his dick slid free, and I felt empty and sticky all at once.Oh.
He tsked and quickly guided his hand between us to plug two fingers inside me.
I gasped, flexing around him while resisting the urge to swivel my hips. “W-what are you doing?”Please keep doing it.
“Keeping you full,” he rumbled. “I like knowing you’re stuffed with me.”
I flushed hot at the intimate words.
I hadn’t realized it until a moment ago, but he didn’t use a condom. Two years ago, he did. This was the first time he’d ever spilled inside me. The first timeanyoneever had. I’d been so consumed at the time that I hadn’t even been able to think about it.
Now it consumed me. I wiggled a little, relishing the sticky feel between my thighs and the wetness of my hole. There was nothing between us. Nothing at all.
It should be really awkward to sit in a man’s lap, naked and vulnerable, while he used his fingers to keep his claim deep inside me.
Especially with so much… stuff (and I don’t mean cum) between us.
But it wasn’t.
It just felt… right. Like this was where I belonged.
“And I’m not a hitman.”
Oh.Was Haz mistaken, then? “So you don’t kill people with the government’s permission?”
He scowled. “You two were supposed to be eating breakfast, not gossiping.”
“We can talk and eat at the same time,” I pointed out.
His face twisted into a grimace/snarl. “I prefer the term sanctioned operative.”
“Is that a fancy word for hitman?”
“It means I do shit other people would be in jail for, but I do it because it needs to be done.”
