A One Woman Job

Chapter 8

8

Meg

A m I the sort of person who condones murder now?

No. No, it’s wrong. Nothing excuses violence.

Except maybe a child being sold and being given no choice but to train and become an assassin or starve to death. If Koen hadn’t been traded for the debt, what fate would have befallen his parents? He isn’t a psychopath, otherwise he wouldn’t feel guilt and grief over taking the old woman’s grandson away from her. It’s driven him into solitude.

Maybe I’m na?ve, maybe I’m making excuses because I have feelings for Koen that continue to expand and grow complicated, but…

I believe that, if anything, his ability to still feel guilt and pain after the life he’s led makes him stronger of character than most.

I’m one of those women who marries an inmate, aren’t I?

Oh God.

“You’re still here,” he says, planting a hard kiss on the crown of my head.

Speaking of the ability to feel guilt, did I really try and suggest he simply needed a break from being an assassin? Maybe…maybe the problem is that you never take a break. My heart sinks into my stomach from simply replaying my own words. How can I do this job Etta asks of me? I should tell him to run. To find a peaceful life away from the world that did such a number on him.

“Of course I’m still here,” I say, turning my mouth into his shoulder. After a hesitation that comes from a place of inexperience, I…sip at his shoulder. I open my mouth partly and suck gently on his skin, my intimate muscles tugging between my legs when he sucks in a hiss, his hips shifting beneath the covers. “Do you…like that?”

“I can’t think of a single thing you could do to me that I wouldn’t like.” His nostrils flare when he cuts me a smoldering look. “Except run.”

I’m filled with the urge to make him believe I won’t. The deal with Etta means nothing right now. It’s an afterthought when this man is looking at me like I’m the axis of his world. Nothing can go wrong in this moment. There’s only now—and the need to make him secure in how I feel. How nothing has changed despite what he told me.

Garnering all of my bravery, I push up on my left elbow and look down at the sheet that covers his body from the neck down. My pulse is rapping wildly as I pinch the top and peel it down, down, down, revealing his flexed chest, so crowded with ink. My gaze on him is like a touch all its own, and his jaw slackens under my regard, the tendons in his neck and forearms growing more and more prominent.

“Are you restraining yourself?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Slowly, I lower my fingertips to the top of his abdomen, watching it shudder and tighten in fascination. “Why?”

“After what I just told you…” His forehead is gathering a sheen. “I’m not going to attack you like an animal, Meg.” He swallows hard and gives me a look rife with meaning. “Next time, though. Next time, I will. Do you hear me?”

I suck in a breath when my nipples tighten, fast and painful, an ache erupting between my thighs. I’m finding a lot out about myself tonight. How much I’m willing to overlook when a man makes me feel like this. How I like the blunt way he speaks to me. How I’m pretty sure when he executes his promise, I’ll like that, too.

“For now, I want to see what you do.” He stacks his hands behind his head and shifts to give me full access to his powerful body. “There are no wrong choices, Meg.”

The ink on his skin draws me closer, inviting just the barest touch of my lips on his hip. “What if I lick your body the way you licked mine?”

His stomach hollows with a shudder. “Oh fuck. Please.”

I let my tongue out of my mouth, finding the smooth heat of his hip bone, tracing a slow path to his belly button. To go any further, I have to kneel and bend over him and I do that now, skimming my palms over his chest and shoulders while my tongue dampens the colorful patterns that decorate his body. In my periphery, I can see his sex stiffening into a monument beneath the sheet, his hips jerking and undulating when I reach his nipples and lick them soundly, his hoarse epithets making me stay there longer than anywhere else, before my face visits his neck, kissing and biting him there, enjoying his scent.

Remembering what he did to me in the field last night, I raise my head slightly, finding Koen watching me through glazed blue eyes. “Can I lick you…down there, too?”

“Yes, baby. You can.” He turns his face and nuzzles mine, his breath turning shallow. “You can lick it, kiss it, suck it, stroke it, tease it. Put it inside you. Sign your name on it. Just make sure it’s the last one you’ll ever see.”

We turn our heads and gaze down the length of his body together, my middle finger playing in the trail of hair below his navel. He makes an anticipatory sound when my touch slips lower, gripping the sheet and slowly uncovering his thick erection. My mouth dries up at the sight of it, the beating veins running every which way, the engorged head. Even with my precious little experience, I know it’s sensitive to the touch. I just know.

“Are they supposed to be that big?” I ask, sifting my fingers through the black hair at the base of his sex, hesitating a moment, then fisting him.

Hissing like a tea kettle, he lifts his hips sharply. “No,” he slurs. “God must have decided that Meg deserves a little more cock than everyone else.” I start a gentle stroke that tightens gradually while I move my body into position between his legs, my attention rapt on the slit at the top of his shaft, how pearls of moisture continue to appear…and I ache to taste them. There are no wrong answers.

With those words of encouragement echoing in my head, I bend down and lap at the newest glistening pearl, bringing it into my mouth and moaning over the salty earthiness of Koen. A rash of heat spreads down my body, that secret spot beginning to throb between my thighs. “Tastes so good.” My fist travels up and down the length of him, picking up speed. “If I suck, will more come out?”

“Oh my God.” His head is pressed back into the pillows, neck straining. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.”

“Yes, you do.” I lower my head, dragging my lips side to side across the tip of his arousal. “But you’ve got me, either way.”

“Meg,” he chokes out, throat muscles working in a pattern. “Meg.”

“If I suck it…?”

“Yes,” he pants. “More will come out.”

I don’t know how to describe the change that comes over me once Koen’s steely sex is in my mouth, but it’s as though I’ve been starved for this, for him, my whole life. More heavenly pearls find my taste buds and I whimper over the essential taste, purring when one of them flings to the back of my throat and slides down, down into my tummy where it belongs. More. I want more. I need more.

I want the entire length of him to feel the suction at once, so I push my lips down as far as they’ll go, watching his stunned and lustful expression while I suck as hard as I can, all the way back to the tip, but I don’t release him entirely. No. No! I refuse. I’m greedy for this big, salty part of him, my temperature spiking over the pulsations of those veins against my tongue. I hold the very life of him in my mouth. It’s a privilege.

“My innocent virgin sucks me like a dirty cockslut, huh?” His hands are out from beneath his head now, his long fingers twisting in my hair, urging me on with slow, upward pumps of his hips. “You know you found the one that’s going to satisfy your little pussy. That’s why it tastes so motherfucking good, Meg. Listen to your body telling you I’m your Daddy.”

I transform in that moment and disappear into a blue haze. That claim of ownership and his obvious pleasure take me to a different world and I have no insecurities or hesitation here. Just my mouth that was crafted for sucking and my sopping wet sex that no longer alarms me, only makes me feel right. I know everything about me is right and perfect because of the possessive way he looks at me.

And so I don’t hesitate to clamber breathlessly onto his heaving, sweat-slicked body now, locking our mouths together while his fist moves between my legs, guiding his length to my entrance, shouting a vile curse when he finds me ready, so ready, so ready, cramming himself inside of me with a decisive jerk of his wrist, my insides jarred and stupefied by the inundation of pressure, but it passes after a moment, the worst of it passes, and now I’m joined with him. It’s the most tremendous victory I can imagine, my body fitting this man’s and pleasuring it. Pleasuring him. He’s had so little in his life and it becomes my duty now to rain it down on him, like the goddess he suspects me to be.

“You fill me up so tight, Daddy,” I whisper against his mouth, my lips tilting like a feline’s when his eyes roll back into his head and he clutches my butt cheeks, begging me with incoherent words to move, move, move. And I do. I move like no one before or after, in ways neither one of us suspected I could. I bury my face in his neck and smack my hips up and down, then in smaller, quicker humps that make him call for God through his teeth. “Put that salty stuff inside me,” I whine, biting his ear. “I want it. It’s mine .”

“Fucking right it’s yours.” He rakes his open mouth up the side of my face. “It’s called my come, Meg. My come is what you want. My body makes more of it every second of the day and we need to get it out. That’s why your mouth and pussy are going to be swollen so goddamn often. My come .”

“Then I love your come.”

“ Good girl .” His hips lift me high and bounces me—repeatedly—his gaze hot on my breasts as they rebound and shake. I sob at the gathering of the unknown beneath my navel. It’s a lot like last night in the field, but bigger. Fuller. Monumental. “I love your fucking come, too, Meg. It belongs on this cock. Drench my fucking cock.”

I don’t have a choice.

The vibrations start at a place within me I can’t name. Or it didn’t exist until Koen discovered it. The reverberations tremor up my hips, then arrow in toward my belly, diving in, diving low and intertwining with my sex organs in the most indescribable way. Yanking.

“Koen!”

“Meg,” he rasps, turning me over, his teeth bared as he pumps between my spread legs, the patterns of his tattoos shifting in the moonlight. Flexing while that part of him that thickens more, more, more, threatens to either tear me in half or make me explode with pleasure again. I don’t know which. Only that I covet his aggressions. His assault.

I beg for it loudly and brokenly.

“Do have any idea how tight you are?” he growls in my ear, his body moving frantically with mine, his hips pressing my knees wide open on the bed. “Don’t you dare tell anyone your cunt is this fucking tight. That’s our secret, Meg. I’ll have to kill men to keep them away and I’ve already got enough blood on my hands. Jesus. You’re a work of art.”

His praise makes those delicate muscles quicken all over again, making me cinch around him even tighter and my hips move in a swivel, instinctively offering him friction. “I won’t tell anyone it’s so little, Daddy.”

He roars when he comes, his muscular frame stiffening, choked sounds breaking from his lips while a great tide of warmth enters me, bathes me in the place I’ve needed it since I met him, without realizing why. The why is that my body belongs to Koen. Every inch. Every response he elicits from it. All of me.

“Mine!” he bellows, punching his fist through the headboard, splintering the wood.

But I’m not scared. No, not of this man.

He’d take on the world for me. That’s what his body and words and eyes tell me.

“You’re mine, too,” I whisper back, slowly drawing his mouth down to mine, kissing him with all of the promise in my heart while he withdraws himself and lays down beside me, his intensity focused on me the whole time.

We cling to each other as we descend into sleep.

I’m going to have to find another way to pay my father’s debt.

I won’t dupe this man. I love him.