Heart Shot (8 page)

His cock, now covered by a thin sheath of latex, sprang up from his body, thick, long and hard. The tip was a dark red, clearly begging for relief. She’d wanted to taste him, lick the pre-cum from his tip and see how far she could swallow down around him.

Next time,
she promised herself.

Fin moved to embrace her but she held out her hands.

“No, the couch,” she indicated. “I want to ride you, so this time I can see your face when we both climax.”

His grin was full of boyish charm, an innocence she hadn’t expected and that pierced her heart. He’d spoken of them opening up to each other, but it was so alien to everything she’d learned, everything she’d become. Fin did it all so easily though. She found herself envious.

Emily followed him to the couch, her mind going crazy. She wanted him desperately, but fear held her back. Her secrets all piled up in her chest, threatening to drown her. How could she possibly have thought they’d be able to make anything together? In that instant he seemed like a mythical being. Perfect, open, trusting and free. She’d never felt more like a demon, a monster.

Fin lay down on the couch and held out his hands to her, waiting for her to climb onto him. For a crazy moment she thought about running.

“Let it go, Em,” he said, seeming to read her mind. “Right now there’s only you, me and this feeling between us.”

Emily straddled his waist and pressed her hot core against his thick shaft. Hesitant again, she bent to kiss him. When their lips touched—exactly the same as before—all thought fled. He was right. It was just the two of them, nothing and no one else.

It was as if her earlier orgasm had been a mere prelude. Quickly her need spiked again. Her nipples were hard peaks, and this time Fin bent his head to capture them in his mouth. He cupped his hands around her breasts. He played his tongue around the tips and caressing his fingers over her mounds. Emily stroked her fingers over the smooth expanse of his chest, marveling at how perfectly he’d been made—soft skin over warm muscle, a few scars here and there adding to his appeal.

And his cock. Holy heavens, there’d never been a more perfect dick made—or not one she’d come across. Bracing herself against him, Emily drove herself into a frenzy. She rubbed her lips along his length, teasing them both unmercifully. She rode him hard and all too soon was panting. Her pussy grew slick again, her need like a fire in her veins.

“Please,” he pleaded this time. The hunger in his tone couldn’t be denied. Emily met Fin’s eyes, amazed at how open and completely honest he was with her. She longed to trust him fully.

“Yes,” she replied, not certain what she was even answering.

Circling her hand around him, she then stroked him up and down, from root to tip. He was the largest man she’d been with, but she was so worked up—damn near crazy for it—she had no doubt they’d fit. Need made her lightheaded. She lifted herself then angled him perfectly. Slowly, inch by inch, she sank upon him, claiming what they both craved.

He stretched her, almost uncomfortably so at first. They both adjusted, and soon that crawling, wriggling need to move, to fuck, to brand him as hers rose between them again. Bending over him, she rose up and sank back down, their gazes meeting.

They watched each other in the most intimate moment possible. She fucked herself upon him, and he canted his hips up to snap closed those last inches every time she sat down. Without needing words, he fulfilled her needs. She yearned to kiss him, and when she lowered her face to him, he arched up and met her part way.

They kissed—a hard, urgent press of lips as their bodies danced and sang together. Warm, wet sounds filled the air as flesh clapped together. Panting, gasping breaths sounded throughout the room. Grunts and stifled cries.

The sound of sex.

She relished the feel of one person claiming another. Who branded who was anyone’s guess—they each coupled with the other on an equal basis.

Emily fluttered her eyes, but she forced herself to watch, not wanting to miss a moment of Fin’s pleasure. Her oncoming orgasm grew, and soon she hovered once again on the brink.

“I’m so close,” she panted, wanting him with her, now and always.

“Do it,” he urged. “Fly free. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Fin,” she moaned, still hesitating and reluctant but unable to stop herself any longer. Emily clenched her inner muscles, grabbing his cock hard and squeezing with all her might. He shouted, his dick shuddered inside her and she exploded.

She shut her eyes involuntarily. Her senses were overwhelmed. Pleasure rocked through her like a bolt of lightning and she just had to watch this moment. Fin held her hips hard, angled her higher and thrust into her as he
poured
his own climax inside her. They grappled with their hands, bodies slick with sweat. Her ears rang, both their screams blocked out as her senses shut down for a moment to cope with the onslaught.

Milking him with her pussy, taking everything imaginable, she gave him her all. She could have sworn the world tilted on its axis, only to realize Fin had shifted. He pressed her into the back of the couch so he could pound into her harder as he rode his orgasm through to its end. She clung to him, gasping for air and stunned by the ferocity of her peak.

Drained, she collapsed into the couch and he quickly followed. It took Emily a minute or more to stop shaking, the fine, intimate tremors something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Her first sense to return was smell. The air was heavy with the aroma of sex, semen and satisfaction. The light in the room was bright and she closed her eyes against it, wanting to take in and memorize everything about this delicious experience. Realizing she might miss something, she opened them again to take stock.

Emily had no idea how long they lay like that. They faced each other, legs entwined and chests clamped together to fit them both on the couch. She cooled down quickly, her sweat catching the chill in the air now that her blood no longer roared through her veins.

She snuggled closer to Fin, eager to share his warmth. He wrapped an arm around her. The sensation of safety and security she’d felt earlier hadn’t been a fluke. She felt it again, here and now.

For some reason her body trusted him. Something in his manner, or maybe his soul, reached out and spoke silently to her.

Emily had never experienced it and didn’t know quite what to make of it.

“Was it really a coincidence you were on that street?” Fin asked softly. Emily tensed, though even she could feel it wasn’t the same level of force as she had reacted with earlier.

She had no idea how, or when, but Fin had crawled under her skin and beneath her defenses. There were still some things she knew she couldn’t tell him—work-related secrets she felt honor bound to protect and keep—but she’d never trusted another person like she did him. Something in her instincts insisted her faith was not misplaced.

Not knowing how much she could tell him or what, exactly, he wished to know, she pondered her answer. She lifted her head and brushed her hair back with one hand. Emily met his gaze and measured her words with care.

“There was no schedule or plan for me to be there, no,” she admitted. “But I was there in relation to a job I was checking on. Research. But James didn’t send me to that particular café, no.”

“James is your contact, the man you work for?”

Emily blinked, surprised she’d given him that but she nodded. They were both silent for a minute. She had the idea Fin wanted her to say more, but remaining silent had been ingrained upon her for so long that she didn’t know where to start. Neither did she know how much she wanted to divulge to him.

“Are you one of the good guys?” Fin finally asked. She could tell he tried to put it as a teasing joke, but there was a seriousness in his eyes, a few lines of strain around those gorgeous lips of his. “At least if we’re on the same side…Em?”

She climbed off the couch and turned away from him. Searching the floor for her knickers gave her an excuse to not look at him.

“I just need a second,” she pleaded.

Far more slowly, with a languid grace she envied, Fin pulled himself up. He pressed a light kiss to her temple.

“It can’t possibly be that bad,” he insisted. “I’ve seen your soul. I’ll clean up and be back in a minute. Then we can talk.”

She cringed, not from imminent
talk
, but from his mention of her soul. Never had she felt unworthy of someone else. Emily steeled her spine. She drew on her underwear as she heard water run in a sink from where she assumed the bathroom was down the hall. Fin returned in a pair of loose boxers, looking serious but not particularly upset.

Emily shrugged her arms into her shirt and started buttoning it up.

She’d never been a coward before, she refused to start now. When the shirt was buttoned to just below her breasts, she turned around, tilted her head defiantly and prepared herself for the look of rage, disgust and revulsion Fin would no doubt wear when she told him.

“I doubt anyone would consider me a good guy, no,” she started. “I shoot people. I’m an assassin.”

Emily forced her arms to stop quivering, refusing to show the least weakness in front of her lover. He stared at her, his gaze steady and serious.

“Not randomly, I hope,” he added with what she thought might be a faint edge of mockery in his tone. She made an exasperated sound.

“Of course not. James calls me and gives me the details of the target—he’s in some branch of the government, though I’ve never known which covert area he’s in precisely. I recon the situation, look into the target—”

“Ah,” Fin interrupted. He looked satisfied, almost smug. As if he hadn’t a care in the world, he flopped down onto one of the large armchairs and watched her intently.

Although she’d never had this exact conversation before, she felt lost. It wasn’t how she’d envisaged it. Rage, hysterics, shouted vilification she’d been prepared for. But ‘Ah’ and sitting back into a comfy chair hadn’t figured into her expectations for when this conversation finally occurred.

“What the hell does that mean?” she demanded, feeling decidedly off kilter.

“You did mention earlier that you were there to do research,” he said kindly. Emily was still perplexed. “But I interrupted you, my apologies. Go on.”

She floundered.

When the fuck had she lost control over her life like this?

“I…well. You did hear me, right? I’m a murderer.”

“You mean did I understand that you’ve got remarkable shooting skills and no inclination to use them carelessly. You’re likely contracted as a deniable operative. So when a branch of our government decides someone needs taking out and it presumably can’t be done through legitimate means that person contacts you. They give you the name and after careful and—knowing you, sweetheart—thorough research, you decide whether the intelligence is correct. If you’re satisfied I presume you speedily, accurately and cleanly dispatch them. Yes, I think I understand.”

“I… You… But…” She didn’t even know where to start with his blasé attitude and seeming unconcern with what he’d discovered. Was he crazy?

“Oh, am I wrong? Have you ever murdered an innocent person?”

“What? No! Never.”

Fin grinned at her, the vehemence of her response clear to even the meanest of minds. Emily slowly sat down on the edge of the couch’s cushioned seat. She peered at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You really don’t mind I kill people?”

“Well it wouldn’t have been my first preference of careers for a lover of mine, no,” he admitted with a cheeky grin. “I’m sure it will make it difficult to introduce you in polite society. But I certainly know the need for people with your skills. There are some truly evil people out there. Do you really think I’ve never killed a soul myself?”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of that possibility.

“You don’t feel stained by it?” She blanched. The question had popped out before she could censor it. It ripped right into the heart of why she’d been so tempted to leave, to find anything else to pay the bills.

He seemed to take her question quite seriously, clearly thinking over his answer before he spoke.

“It takes something from you, yes,” he admitted. “Only a truly depraved person could remain untouched by it. But these things are necessary. Most people out there, ‘normal’ guys wouldn’t be able to begin to understand. That’s why the world needs people like us, to protect the others. We keep this side of reality away from them.”

She recalled he’d been protecting someone earlier this morning. That thought jingled in her mind, there was something else there, something she was missing.

“…he got out safely though…he’s in no immediate danger…”

What were the chances? She’d been conducting surveillance on Marshall, Fin had been protecting someone. Could there have been two different targets in the same café?

That seemed far too much of a coincidence to her.

“If I said I’d been looking into a man suspected of selling secrets, one who was in that café, would it mean something to you?” she questioned carefully.

Fin sat upright, clearly hanging on her every word.

Funny, she’d expected a reaction from her admission of her work and got none. Now, she’d casually alluded to her so-called mission and she couldn’t have got his attention sharper if she’d grabbed his arm and shaken him.

“Keyton Marshall?” Fin asked.

Emily pursed her lips together, certain now that the job had been a crap one from the beginning. She nodded.

“I should have called James and refused the job last night when I watched him read
Green Eggs and Ham
to his children.” She shook her head and sighed. “I didn’t see how a man who’s clearly devoted to his family and clean-cut life could be selling agents of the Crown in dirty dealings.”

Fin beamed at her as if she’d handed him the sun and the moon.

“What?” she asked.

He stood, crossed over and sat next to her on the couch. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Off balance, Emily turned, her thigh now pressing into his half-hard cock. She laughed, delighted but completely bemused.