Once more for One Wicked Night...

..And some more of the hot stuff...

Silence. Justice looked at her, waited.     

Myka burst out laughing. “Wow, I did not take you for a funny guy.”

Not the response he expected. Justice gritted his teeth at her naiveté. He brought up his hand holding the gun, pointed it at her. “I don’t joke about my job.”

Her smile died a quick death. Wide eyes stared him down as her throat worked. “You—you were hired to kill me?” Her words rattled like tree branches during a wind storm.

“Said so, didn’t I?”

“No!” She shook her head. Fingers dug into the couch cushions as she tried to slide backwards, away from him. “Why? Who? I—I don’t understand.”

Justice sighed, removed the gun from his knee and placed it on the floor. “You don’t have to understand it, Myka.” He got to his feet. Her eyes grew wider, fear and desperation flaring bright in their dark depths. Her body tensed. “The fact remains, I’ve been hired to do a job.”

With the gun in his hand pointing at her, he took a step in her direction.

Myka jumped up, ran around the couch and out of the living room. Toward the front door maybe?

Justice halted, watched as her right heel got caught in the carpet. Her ankle twisted, legs buckled, but she managed to remain upright. She limped to the heavy door and banged on it.

“Help! Somebody help me, please.” Her screams were useless and he told her so.

“Nobody can hear you, Myka.” He took his time walking toward her. “The walls are soundproof.”

She spun around to face him, eyes shooting daggers. “Fuck you, you bastard.”

“Ooh, language.” He liked her like this, with fire in her eyes, minus the fear. Time to remedy that. “I’m not going to hurt you, Myka.” His words didn’t seem to comfort her, she turned around and went back to pounding on the door.

“Help, somebody, he’s going to kill me!”

Justice reached her in two strides. “Tut-tut, didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to hurt you?” He pressed his front to her back, pinning her against the door. “I’m liking this,” he murmured in her ear. “Chasing you, catching you.”

She whimpered.

He leaned over, placed the gun on a ledge by the door. “First things first, I never planned to hurt you, so get that out your mind.” Justice brushed his nose on her nape, inhaled the fragrance of heated jasmine on her skin. “At no time did I entertain hurting you, Myka.” He began pulling pins from her hair. Myka held herself so still, if it weren’t for the racing pulse behind her ear he’d think she wasn’t breathing.

Finished with the pins, Justice plunged his fingers into the mess of curls on her head. “I love your hair, Myka. The way it felt like silk dragging across my skin in Toronto.” He twisted a strand around his fingers and pulled. “You loved it when I pulled your hair, the sounds you made still echo in my head.”

A gurgled sound escaped from her. She moved as if to turn around, but he didn’t budge. “That night you were the one in charge, Myka, but things have changed.” He dropped a hand to her thigh, slid a finger up under the hem of her dress.

She tensed. “Justice.” A moan as she pushed her ass onto his cock.

He brushed her hair aside as his finger hooked on her thong. The crotch was soaked. His cock grew ever rigid. He found the tiny hole of her pussy, traced it. Hot liquid flooded his finger. Myka panted.

“Now I know your name,” he said. “And you know mine. You can say it when you cum.” He slid his finger into her cunt and bit down on her neck. Hard.

Her body jerked, a high pitched wail left her throat. Her pussy grabbed his finger, held him tight. His cock strained in the confines of his pants.

“My favorite part of Toronto was when you used your nails, Myka.” He pulled his finger out, thrust two back in. “You left your mark on me.”

Myka sobbed. Her hips swiveled, pussy sucked him deeper. She clutched at the door as she rode his fingers.                   

“Want to know what I regretted most as I watched you creep out that hotel room?” He licked her ear, caught the lobe between his teeth. “I never got to taste you the way I wanted to, feast on your juicy cunt like a last meal.” He continued thrusting into her wetness. “What do you regret?”

She shook her head while her hips sped up.

“Tell me,” he said harshly. He pulled his hand away from her. Slowly, to maximize the torture. Her walls worked furiously to trap him inside. “Tell me.”

“More,” she sobbed. “I wanted more. I wanted to keep you inside me for as long as I could.”

He moved his hand from her hair, fumbled with the buttons on his pants. “And now? Do you want me inside you now?”

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