I was done holding out. I wanted to crash and burn.
Digging my fingers into her waist, I lifted her up, relished in her weak whimper. “No more playing around. I can't handle the torture of being in your sweet *, I need to feel you move. I need it before I lose my mind,” I growled, not caring how I sounded.
Stroke after stroke, I gorged myself on her cries. My rib cage flared, proving it could contain my rampaging blood. The wet sound of each impact drove me harder, faster. Licking my thumb, I lowered one hand and pet the swollen clit that was calling to me.
Any discomfort Marina felt from having us both slamming into her was erased. I could feel the shift, the waves of heat that roared through her body and along my cock. She tossed her head, arching to the sky.
Last night, I'd been inside of her. I'd told her I needed her to come—that if she did, I'd never get enough of it.
I hadn't been joking.
I yearned for Marina's orgasm, it was as dear to me as breathing.
“Fuck,” Kite said, his forehead coming down onto her shoulder. “Fucking insane, you feel incredible, Marina. I can't—fuck, I'm so close!”
Making tight circles on her clit, I studied her face between my own rapidly diminishing control. The sensation of her milking me had me near the edge. Marina licked her lips, grinding down on me with increasing desperation.
When she came, she took my vision. I saw white flashes, the cold air evaporating to leave scorching wild fire in its place. My veins flexed, pulsing as my climax ripped from my skull to my cock. Marina had thrown me over a mental cliff-side and left me broken.
She toppled forward, a second wave of clenching muscles rocking her cunt. Her face landed on my chest while Kite grunted. His orgasm had pushed her over into a second one for herself, the tingles coursing through into my still firm shaft.
It was almost too much. Almost.
In a pile, we all laid there on our jackets under the darkening sky. The trees were still red as blood from Marina's ruse. Through my haze, my fracturing walls, it made me think of grizzly things.
I'd seen so much killing in my life. It hadn't mattered to me as I'd gotten older.
A hard life can turn a heart cold, but it can protect you, too.
Sex had always been for fun before, to help me forget and to let my mind take a break. It was one of the few escapes this world could offer me. A selfish, freeing escape.
Until now.
This wasn't an escape. I'd never been so emotionally drained.
I was wishing for things I feared I could never have. Instead of gore and death, I wanted the paint on the trees to remind me of this. A day of joy, a moment in our messed up lives where nothing mattered.
A day where I didn't have to ponder who lived or who had to die.
Wrapping my arms around Marina, I closed my eyes and wondered what lay ahead.
- Chapter 27 -
Marina
––––––––
I'm falling in love with killers.
Two killers, to be precise. I know, I'm insane for getting into this situation. I've never claimed to be the wielder of great fucking ideas.
They're smooth, dangerous, cunning and capable of whatever they deem necessary.
My two hitmen...
All mine.
Standing in front of the wide window, a place I often found myself loitering, I gazed down on the city. The sun was cresting, coating the sentinel buildings in gold and cherry. It was an hour where nothing should have stirred.
Except this was New York City, and it never really slept.
Below me, cars rolled and people milled. The buildings were dazzling with their lights. Kite's apartment had a view that I never got tired of. It was especially welcome after I awoke from a nightmare.
Will those dreams ever stop haunting me? I wondered, pushing my forehead on the glass. Even after I get my revenge... will they really go away?
Rubbing my lower leg, I winced. There was a dark bruise beneath my jeans, left there from my recent foray in Upstate New York. Kite and Jacob had suggested we play paintball, insisting it'd be fun.
It had turned into something much more wet and hot than 'fun.'
Flushing at the memory, I swallowed my wave of shame. Spending time with these two killers was never supposed to be about fun. But here I was, fantasizing about the ways they'd spread me... fucked me.
How they'd made me scream.
I wanted, more than ever, to hope that they cared for me. Because deep down, as much as it scared me, I cared about them. Was it really love? I didn't know, it had been so long since I could remember the feeling.
But this burned hot, and it made me dizzy. What else could it be?
Do I want them to love me, because that would mean I'd be safe?
If I'd learned anything, it's that these two hitmen didn't like liabilities. They were careful, cunning... precise. No mistakes.
And as long as I lived, I was a mistake.