Never Kiss a Bad Boy by Nora Flite
A preview of what's to come:
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Tugging my jacket off, I smoothed my hair. I could smell her on my hands. The scent was another chain link in my brain. Marina was trapping me.
“I'm not joking,” I said firmly. “I am very serious about what I'm going to do to you.” Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out a condom. “Stand up.”
Kicking her pants and shoes off of her feet, she hurried to do so. The insides of her thighs were shimmering. I spread my jacket out, creating a safer place for us both. Lifting my eyes, I planned to motion for her to lie back down—but being level with her hips stopped me.
She made a tiny noise, stumbling as I yanked her closer. On my knees, I nuzzled the side of her thick, curved ass. “You are so damn gorgeous, it's a travesty,” I said against her flesh.
Reaching down, she took hold of my shirt. “Can I...?”
“Undress me? Yes.” Leaning away, I let her guide the clothing over my head. My hair was tossed, coppery strands blinding me. When I could see again, I gazed up at Marina's appreciative face.
Her hands trembled, she touched my bare shoulders and used me to support her balance. “I was right,” she said, satisfied.
Helping her kneel, I stroked the side of her throat. The way her lashes fluttered, they might as well have tickled across my swollen cock. “About what?” I asked.
She only smiled, a little sideways tilt of her lips.
Crooking a finger at me, she splayed on her back. Her thumbs tucked into the sides of her soaked panties, pulling them down. She had to lift her feet up, pointing her toes. I had the ultimate view, and I saw my hands grab her ankles before I even debated it. “Fuck, who thought it was fair to the rest of the world to create only one of you?” I growled.
The button of my jeans popped, zipper grinding down. The reddish tip of my engorged cock peeked over the top of my boxers. Marina saw it, licked her lips, and I just fucking gave up any attempt at control.
Yanking the last of my clothing down, I fisted the base of my shaft. It arched into the air, veins like serpents on a sugar high. Deftly, I opened the condom and stretched it over my girth.
I had her ankles, crossing them together and bending them towards her face. Marina was flexible, but I pushed her to the brink of discomfort. Those carved thighs were rubbing, her * beckoning at me.
I didn't ask if she was ready.
I didn't need to.
- Chapter 1 -
Kite
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Thin as a rail, the man looked distinctly like he never ate. The hot dog he held was out of place in his bony fingers. He turned too fast, ketchup staining his neck collar.
That red splotch was foreboding.
I wasn't worried he'd notice me. I didn't duck or dive or anything so ridiculous. Surrounded by the crowd that had gathered for the marathon, I was essentially invisible.
A ghost.
“You spot him yet?” The voice buzzed in my ear, feeding through my bluetooth earpiece.
Reaching up, I acted like I was scratching my nose. I never took my attention off of my target. “Just enjoying the sun at this point,” I whispered. “Hope you're not falling asleep over there.”
Jacob snorted. “Race is about to start.” He paused, a smile coating his voice. “Sorry you'll miss the action.”
“I'm about to see plenty of action.” Lowering my chin, I tightened my grip on my gun. The target—sorry, I guess I should use his name—Frank had changed directions. I'd need to adjust my route. “How long until it starts, exactly?”
The earpiece crackled. I pictured Jacob weaving closer to the starting line. “Announcer is out there, everyone is in position and doing that leg-stretch thing they always do. Fifteen seconds, max.”
In my chest, my heart was broadcasting its familiar music. All drums, all going full tempo.
Cutting across the grass, I took long steps to make sure I could get in front of Frank. Timing was everything, anyone who said otherwise was just excusing their own fuck ups.
“Count down for me when the Starter's hand is up,” I said. It was a hushed demand. No one around me would hear.
Frank was slowing, his eyes—everyone's eyes—pointing at the end of the park. I could see the milling group of runners, the packed sidelines. I couldn't see Jacob, but I didn't try to. I was stuck like a magnet on Frank's approaching figure.
I'd been behind him earlier, now I circled in front.
“Four seconds,” Jacob stated flatly.
A cool darkness settled over me. It crawled from my belly upwards, then out; it made my fingers tingle on the gun. Frank wasn't seeing me, he'd slowed on the path. The hot dog hovered by his lips.
The last thing he'd ever eat.
I never blinked, my lungs didn't even flex. One breath was all I needed.
“Three,” the voice said in my ear.
I guided the pistol—my Ruger—from my inner pocket.
“Two,” Jacob insisted.