Never Kiss a Bad Boy (16 page)

Staring her down, I realized I didn't believe her.

From where I was, I could see the indent in her lower lip. “You want to know what we plan to do with you.” The center of my brain was tingling with her nearness. “Tell me what I could say that would soothe your frazzled nerves.”

Her lashes touched her cheeks, she looked away. “I'm not nervous.”

My fingers closed on her throat. It was a soft touch, just to feel her blood flutter. Her gasp was small and delicious. “Yes,” I whispered. “You are.”

Her hands came up, grabbing my forearm through my jacket. Something spiraled in her stare, a passion and pain that fought to escape. Marina studied me with expectation, and I hovered and waited and
ached
to push forward.

But I didn't. I don't know why.

She said, “You seriously want to know what would calm me down?” She clamped down on my wrist, gripping like I'd fade away. “Say... say that before this is all done, you and Jacob won't turn around and murder me. Promise you won't kill me.”

What the fuck was this situation we were in? I was bent over the angelic face of a woman who walked the line between wrecking me and buckling under my presence.

“You know what I'm capable of. In your gut, you know what I am.” Cupping her chin, I would have forced her to look at me... but she already was. “What about you? Could you promise that you'll give us the letter before you get
yourself
killed? If you don't, Jacob and I are screwed.”

Under my fingers, her plump lips became a wry grin. “The letter really is all you think about, isn't it?”

I said nothing. How could I admit there was something—someone—that I thought about constantly? Someone who dared to say she wasn't scared of death and refused to back down from me.

Marina Fidel owned more of my brain every minute.

Screwing her eyes shut, she let her hands fall from my arm—to my chest. “Yes. I'll promise that. Before anything happens to me, I'll get that letter to you, somehow. I won't let my revenge ruin you both.”

Her nails dug in, pulling me to her so our foreheads touched. Her warmth and her smell—raindrops and cocoa powder—assaulted me.

In our tiny corner of this filthy city, Marina swore that she would
not
abandon me. It was what I needed from her. Yet it left me feeling hollow.

“Give that bastard to me,” she hissed against my lips. “Get me that man, let me pull that trigger, and I promise... Kite... I swear I'll give you that letter.” Her voice scraped over my heart. “But only if you promise
me
.”

Gliding my palms upwards, I held Marina by the nape of her neck and turned her so she could see the intensity in my eyes. I wondered what else she saw there, because she licked her lips and shuddered. “I can't promise you—”

“No,” she cut me off. “I get it. You won't promise not to kill me. Fine. I can accept that. Honestly, part of me was prepared for that possibility.” A cynical aura slid over her. “I just want you to tell me that you won't put my body in a fucking barrel.” Genuine distress mixed with the fuzzy edges of her growing desire. “Don't do that to me, Kite. Please don't go that far.”

How strong was this woman that she could admit she was ready to face her own death to get what she wanted? How deep did her scars go and why did they excite me so much?

Marina was drawing me in, and in doing so, she was losing herself.

I recognized the rawness in her throaty breathing. The red tinge to her mouth and skin.

I loved it.

My answer was an explosion of hands and teeth and one strained groan. Fuck, I'd needed to kiss her for far too long.

She gasped, trying to taste me and talk simultaneously. “Say you won't! Say it!”

I removed her coat carelessly. We both heard stitches tearing. “No barrel, no acid. I swear it.”

Marina's fingers dove for my jacket, ripping it open and letting it fall. “Is this... should we be doing this again? We shouldn't, right?” she asked huskily.

“No,” I agreed, shoving myself against her. “This is a fucking awful idea.” My cock thickened in my pants. She couldn't avoid the firmness of my raging erection as I rubbed it against her hip.

She whimpered, a palm slipping across my stomach. “Why do it, then?”

“Because I'm the king of fucking bad ideas.” Snaking fingers down, grasping her waist, I growled against the dip of her shoulder. “I need to have you. I can't help myself, and I don't want to try.” Her body tensed under me, I pressed her against the wall with my weight. “Tell me to stop. If you really don't think we should do this... tell me to stop.”

Her nails knotted up in the hem of my shirt. “You'd really stop if I asked?”

My smirk went ear to ear. I glided it along her trembling jugular. “No. I wouldn't.”

Spinning her, I pushed her face against the cracked wall. We'd leave new cracks by the time we were finished.

Marina was shaking, her ass pushing urgently against my hard-on. I loved knowing that she wanted this as badly as I did. We'd tip-toed around each other for days, as if that would fix anything.

Me, a man who had killed and would certainly kill again. And her, a woman who recognized I was deadly, but here she was, moaning for me.

We were broken, and we knew it.

Reaching around, I cupped her breasts, felt the wire in her bra. It came away without looking, the black garment falling to the floor. Through the texture of her shirt, I thumbed her already firm nipples. Her answering purr was glorious.

My cock pulsed, screaming for air.

One hand unbuttoned her jeans, the other my own pants. Simultaneously, we were bare from the waist down. I took a single eyeful of her round, plump ass and felt my whole center throb. I dug my fingers in, watching the soft flesh as I kneaded.

Marina whimpered when I spread her ass cheeks, tugging her panties into the crease. Pushing on her lower back, I forced her to arch. The motion revealed the appetizing sight of her pussy from behind, silken panties clinging to her lips. This woman—she was designed to lull my senses.

Stroking between her thighs, I felt the soaked cloth. “Ah,” she whispered, breathing so hard I couldn't hear anything else.

Rocking my hips pushed my erection into the dip of her ass. Grinding, I liked what I felt—but I wanted a better visual. Peeling my boxers down, my cock bounced into view, heavy with its arousal.

“Kite,” she mewled, bucking into me and ruining my self-control. She dug my stiff length between her plush cheeks. The sight had my heart on the verge of exploding. I ached to feel her tight cunt again.

“You're ridiculous,” I groaned, ripping her panties until they shredded, becoming useless fragments on the kitchen floor. The elastic snapped, Marina gasped, and I could hear nothing but the blood in my ear drums. “How? How are you so perfect?” I asked, pushing her supple legs apart with my palms.

Her pussy spread, pink and tempting.

Sliding my cock along her entrance, I saw strings of her juice clinging to the veined length. Each slow stroke stole more of her, until my whole cock was shining without even going inside.

Leaning away, I watched the web of stickiness follow me. It tied us together, connected us at our most primal parts.

Glancing over her shoulder, Marina eyed me with passion bordering on anger. She didn't like how long I was taking. “Stop teasing me, Kite.”

“I like teasing you.” Gripping her wide hips, I yanked her against me. Pre-come dripped from my swollen cock-head, glistening on her ass cheek. “I like hearing you pant, and moan, and feeling your nerve endings go haywire.” I liked everything about this girl.

Except for her future.

Groaning low, she went to push off the wall and turn. Smoothly, I wrapped her hair in one hand and shoved her back on the cool surface. Her tiny squeak had my cock growing harder, impossibly harder.

“You fucking love that,” I whispered. Her body was scalding, liquid dripping down her inner thighs.

Marina trembled, closing the one eye I could see. Her response was to rock into me, giving away how much she truly needed my dick in her. With my free hand, I pet the outside of her bare pussy. Her clit was easy to find, swollen beyond belief.

One tiny graze of my fingertip, and she surrendered. “Please, just fuck me!”

Bending close, I nuzzled her ear and inhaled. “That was all I wanted to hear.”

Gripping the base of my shaft, I spread her wetness and drove inside. Her cunt rippled over me, sign language for 'Never leave me again.'

My lips found her shoulder, kissing the smooth skin. I let her hair go so I could hold both sides of her hourglass waist, using it for leverage. I didn't want dainty strokes. I needed to fuck this woman, and I wanted it to be hard.

Marina squealed, nails curling on the wall. She used it, pushing off to meet each of my thrusts. She'd finally surrendered.

Deep in the root of my cock, I felt the tingles of her orgasm begin. She was milking me, panting faster and faster. I needed her to come.
Needed it.
I held my breath—braced myself as I pumped into her with all my strength.

Hissing through her teeth, Marina threw her head back as the waves hit. The crushing spasms on my still pounding cock were delicious.

I bit her shoulder as the first hot spikes of pleasure possessed me. My balls squeezed, heavy with my seed. In the far recesses of my brain, I had the strongest urge to fill her with my come.

How would she react? My imagination had me biting my lip, sweat pouring down my spine. It would feel amazing, and then, this woman... she'd be mine. For real.

Forever.

She's destined for death.

The reminder was too much for my conscience. Against all odds, I ignored the primal ache. Backing out, my pulsing tip rested on the top of her heart-shaped ass. Thick, pearly seed coated her skin as I gasped.

Fuck. That had been insanely close.

Shaking, I let her go and stepped back. Sweat coated my skin in the cool apartment, a temperature I was now grateful for.

Fumbling for a paper towel from the counter, I handed it to her. Seeing her covered in my come was intensely erotic. “Sorry,” I said unconvincingly.

“No, that was... it was the right move.” Cleaning herself off, she tugged her jeans up her legs. I'd destroyed her panties, so I watched her beautiful pussy wink out of view. What a shame. Marina glanced at me, her cheeks still wild fire. “No mistakes. Right?”

My heart throbbed painfully. “Right.” I'd already made a million mistakes. King of Fucking Bad decisions, indeed.

I changed, putting my jacket back on but not closing it. “Speaking of decisions, let me give you a number to call. It's for the movers.” I gestured at her apartment.

She blinked, hands fixing her disheveled hair. “You want me to call them?”

“Yeah. You should be the one to talk to them. I'll give you the address and the money, they'll pack everything up and take it to a storage facility. It'll be efficient.” I reached into my wallet, thumbing the cash.

Marina glanced at the tea kettle. We'd never bothered with our drinks; the mugs stood, empty. “You don't want them to see you, is that it?” She didn't wait for me to answer. Sighing, Marina put her coat back on. “Alright. You're being safe, I get it.”

Pausing, I watched her thoughtfully.
Did
she get it? Yes. She was smart, and too perceptive. She understood I was protecting myself and Jacob by making her handle the movers.

I said, “I'll be waiting in my car, down the street. When you finish here, just come meet me. Okay?”

“You trust me alone with other people?” she muttered.

“Yes,” I said seriously. “I believe you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your revenge.”

She met my stare, calm and collected.

I was the first to break away.

Scribbling down the number she would need, and the address of the storage company, I handed her a wad of cash. “I'll see you after,” I said, heading for the door.

Marina watched me go. I expected silence from her, some sort of non-violent rally against everything I was and what I was setting her up for. This whole situation was fucked, and my recently used cock knew just how much worse I was making it.

Her voice chirped, oddly sweet. “Will you leave me the umbrella?”

Hesitating, I eyed it where it leaned by the door. Gloves, stolen from my pockets, were tugged onto my hands. “If you do me a favor.”

“Sure,” she said. “What?”

“Flush the paper towels.” Glancing at her, my smile was stiff. She was beautiful, especially when she looked shocked. “No mistakes. Understand?”

Her nod was small, her mood fracturing. “No mistakes,” she whispered.

We both knew we'd make many more before this was over with.

Jacob

––––––––

T
he Pink Factory was actually hard to find.

It was snuggled between a construction site and a massage parlor. The gaudy, fuchsia paint on the siding gave the place away.

A beefy man with a cigarette constantly burning between his lips guarded the door.

Ducking my chin, I palmed the guy a twenty dollar bill and kept walking. Years ago, I'd been a bouncer for a place not much prettier than this. I knew the drill. This man didn't care who I was or what I did, as long as I paid the price of admission.

Then he'd forget about me instantly.

It was dark inside, too dark for my sunglasses. In a quick motion I tucked them in my pocket. They weren't needed; in such awful lighting, my face would be a blur.

Brass poles stuck out of a battered stage. The girls who circled them did nothing beyond stretch, lean, and grind lazily across the metal surfaces.

Sitting at the tip-rail, I fed out some dollar bills to appear normal, bought a drink I never finished. I noted a few things: an exit that led into the back alley where people went to smoke, the second bouncer who hovered by the dance booths, and that, for all the patrons sitting around, few were spending any money.

It took me spying a woman sliding someone her card to make it clear; most of the girls weren't
just
dancers. Times were tough, prostitution was a tempting path. They probably utilized the massage parlor next door.