Last Hit (Hitman #1)(23)
Author: Jessica Clare

"Did you just—?" She can’t bring herself to say it.

"Yes, from just the thought of you touching me. It is enough." I admit.

"I’ve never—" She cuts off and begins again. "I’ve never seen a man in real life."

"Do you want to see it?"

She nods quickly.

I reach between us and unzip. My release was only a small one, only in anticipation, and my c*ck is still hungry and hard. It springs up between us and the wetness shines in the dim moonlight.

"Can I touch it?"

I grit my teeth and nod. I’ll come again, I fear. I try to think of unsightly things. Things that will reduce my excitement. I cannot think of anything but her, cannot see anything but her soft hand lowering and then encircling my girth. I am not a small man. The whores have told me this—some in delight and some in fear. Her hand barely wraps around it. I reach around her hand and pinch the base of my c*ck hard—so hard that another man might cry—to lessen my arousal so that she may touch me.

Her index finger lightly touches the tip and my c*ck bobs its head in response. Two more fingers stroke down the heavy vein. My eyes roll back in their sockets. This light petting is so incredibly erotic that it will fuel my fantasies for weeks.

"It’s really soft," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I thought it wouldn’t be…well, I don’t know what I thought it would feel like, but not like this."

I pinch myself harder and warn her, "It’s a little sticky from my come."

She then does something that I never would have imagined in a million years. She lifts her fingers to her mouth and licks them, tasting my release.

I nearly shoot all over her. Instead, I fist my penis and squeeze it so hard some come releases from the top and my balls try to climb inside my body for fear that they are next in line for abuse. But the pain dulls my arousal to an ache, and I’m calmed once more.

"Kitten," I say, releasing my c*ck and zipping my pants quickly. "I cannot have you touching me again tonight. I am too weak. And you have not even begun to understand the pleasures of your own body. Please, allow me to show you what a release is like."

She looks disappointed and embarrassed. "I-I-I don’t know if I’m ready."

I nod. "You tell me when you’ve had enough." I want this experience to be perfect for her. Releasing the catch for the seat, I position it as far back as it can go and recline on it, propping myself on one side. I pat the seat. "Lie down here."

She does so, but I can tell by the way she plucks at her outfit that she is nervous. I begin to stroke her, long languid strokes down the front of her body from her shoulder to the knees. Her br**sts quiver underneath her shirt, but I ignore them. I want her to relax at first, be comfortable next to my body and languid under my touch.

Each pass of my hand settles her. I match her breathing once again. It is a trick I’ve learned to calm others, and it works here. Soon her arms are no longer tense and her thighs are falling open. Now when I stroke down her front, I linger over her br**sts and rub a bit harder over her thighs. Her breath and pulse pick up.

If there were light in this car, more than just the silver moonlight, I would see the blood coloring her cheeks, the tips of her br**sts and her neck. The flush might be all over, and I cannot wait to see the sight. For now, I content myself with the visible signs of her arousal.

With the next pass of my hand, I allow myself to cup her breast and feel the turgid nipple beneath the fabric.

"Your body seeks a release," I tell her.

"How do you know?" Her voice catches as I rub my thumb across the hardened point.

"Because your body is tightening up. Here, your little n**ples are taut and ready to be suckled. The skin is stretched tight across your cheeks and your pulse thrums madly in your neck." I whisper kisses across the apple of her check and lick the throbbing pulse point. "Between your legs, the blood pounds hard, and your p**sy is catching and releasing. I can tell by the way your h*ps shift and lift to press against my palm." I allow my hand to drop down between her legs and lie lightly above her pubis.

She pushes involuntarily against me.

"I revel in these signs," I tell her, whispering the words against the delicate swirl of her ear. She shivers as I trace the outline of the lobe and lick the tender skin behind it. "These signs tell me that my woman’s body sings for me."

"Your…woman?" She struggles to get even these words out.

"Yes, mine," I say and this time, I press my hand harder between her legs and curl my fingers to cover her sweet cunt. And like I predicted, I can feel the fierce pulse of her heart at the very core of her. Even better, I can feel dampness between the fabric of her panties and her skirt. "Are you wearing panties I have bought you, Daisy?" I ask. "Did you think of me when you pulled them up your legs and squeezed your thighs together? Did you wonder what it would be like if it were my hands there instead of the silk and lace that I purchased for you?"

She gives me what I want. A panting, breathless "yes."

"May I see?" I ask. She nods her head, and it is enough. I pull up the hem of her skirt and beneath it I see light-colored panties, the color which is unknown to me. I guess. "Blue?"

"Blue," she agrees, and she gives me a tense smile.

I soothe her brow with one hand across it. All these things, the pauses, the light touches, the talk, it is all designed to make her come hard. I will own this first orgasm of Daisy’s. No matter what happens to us, I will ensure that she will never forget this moment in her life. That she will think of this day, the evening, this moment and that the mere thought of how hard she comes will arouse her once again.

For this, though, I need more than one hand. I curse myself for starting this in a car, of all places. But I will improvise. A good assassin is the king of improvisation. There is just enough space between the steering wheel and the front of the seat for me to kneel. I am bowed over, but the awkward position is meaningless to me. I could sit in this position for hours if it meant that I could bring Daisy to orgasm. This is not a punishment position; it is one of immense reward.

Her face looks down upon me with some trepidation; fear and uncertainty have crept in while I have been busy repositioning myself. I place my hands on her lower thighs and give her yet another truth. "I am so hungry for you, Daisy, my teeth ache. My mouth waters at the idea of tasting your nectar. My hands itch to stroke every inch of your body."

My words relieve her, and she smiles tenderly at me. I place kisses on the sides of her knees. I rub my hands up and down her legs, stroking a finger behind each knee and the tender skin at her ankles. I lick the inside of her thighs and raise her skirt up even higher so that I may kiss her rounded belly. Over and over, my hands sweep her legs, thumbs almost touching her silk-covered p**sy but never quite making contact. Her h*ps push up against me, and I feel the wetness from her desire rub against my chest as I lean over and learn the contours of her ribs and belly.

Her hands have crept into my hair, tugging at me, urging me downward. She is an innocent, but her body knows where she burns hottest and who can provide relief.

Only me, I vow. It shall be only me from now on who brings her to release. I want all of her orgasms from now until I am dust. I move downward and breathe hotly over her mound. Her hands tug on my head, and she makes me pause as I am about to mouth her through the delicate panties I’ve purchased.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asks. Her lower lip is between her teeth.

"Why wouldn’t I?" The question seems so ridiculous. Every man would want to be here if they knew the treasure that they would receive.

DAISY

I’m an awful person.

I should be a wreck right now. This thought goes through my mind even as Nick’s head moves under my skirt, the stubble of his shaved chin grazing my nak*d thigh. There are so many things that I should be thinking about right now. I should be questioning him about why he was following me. I should be sobbing with fear over the man that nearly attacked me.

Instead, I’m panting and eager for Nick’s touch. His mouth is hovering over the silk of my panties, so close that I can feel his breath on my skin through the fabric. His breathing is ragged, but so is mine. And I’ve seen his penis, and I’ve touched him.

If he’s stalking me, I shouldn’t want to touch him. It’s not smart. But…there’s a part of me that is desperately wicked. That’s thrilled that he’s fascinated enough by someone as boring and plain as me to want to focus all of his attention on me, to be the center of his world. And I am entranced by what he offers—the chance to pleasure him with my exploring touch, and the chance to be pleasured in return.

It’s that promise of pleasure that overrides all caution—it drags me under.

He wants me. You can’t fake how quickly he came. And now he wants to go down on me, something that Regan says Mike won’t do for her. I’m terrified, even as I’m shaking with anticipation. It’s supposed to be the most erotic thing a man can do to a woman, and I feel like I’ve been thrust from complete ignorance to a sexual buffet of experiences. He’s giving me so much that I simply can’t process all of it right now.

"I can smell you," he says, and his voice is thick. "You are very wet, da?"

His words are crude, startling…arousing. I gasp. It feels like all the air in the car has disappeared, along with my sanity. He’s right, though. I’m wet, so wet. Even now, I try to clench my thighs together to feel my slick flesh rub against itself.

"Tell me how it feels, Daisy, and I will touch you."

Nick wants me to speak the same dirty words he uses? I don’t know if I can. It feels so personal, and I can’t imagine telling another person in the world my secret fantasies. What if I ask for the wrong thing? What if he laughs at me? Or worse…what if I bore him?

I am paralyzed by indecision and my own pitiful lack of knowledge. I’ve read novels, but many of them did not go into great detail. They just wax rhapsodic about explosions and fireworks and being pierced. I want to make sure I have things exactly right before I ask for them.

I don’t want him to think me foolish.

When I don’t answer him, Nick’s hands move and they frame my panties, the triangle of his fingers outlining my most sensitive areas.

"Do I frighten you, kotehok?"

I shake my head. I want this more than anything, and my own cowardice is going to cost me the chance to explore if I’m not careful. "I don’t know what to ask for. I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you."

"Not disappointment," he says, accent thick. "Never. And you wish for me to guide you to pleasure this time, Daisy? Da, I do so, on the condition that you show me what you learn next time we touch."

Oh, that sounds so much better. I nod eagerly, my enthusiasm returning. "Show me." I want to come just like he did, just as quickly, and just as fiercely. I still have the taste of him on my tongue, and it’s driving me crazy. Even now, I lick my lips, wanting to taste more of him. "Do you think you’ll come again?"

Nick laughs, but it sounds almost pained. "Of this, I do not doubt, lovely Daisy."

He makes it sound like I am the most exciting woman in the world, and it makes my pulse flutter all over again. I shift in the seat of the car; the ache between my legs full of need.