Page 41 of Assistant to the Assassin

In answer, I suck harder, making Henry chuckle in a sultry, toe-curling tone.

“If you insist.”

After a few more thrusts, he spills down my throat, and the way he moans my name—I’ve never felt more powerful.

I pull back, licking my lips. “Have I earned your forgiveness?”

He nods, panting as he tucks his cock back into his sweats. “Fuck yes.”

I giggle as Henry helps me on to my feet, then he plants a long, sensual kiss on my lips, and I swear I glow from within.

“Thanks for playing with me,” I whisper.

He holds my chin between his thumb and knuckle, rubbing my back with his other hand. “I look forward to the next time you betray me.”

I laugh, enjoying this teasing side of H. I’m about to retort with my own teasing comment, but my insulin pump chooses that moment to make itself known.

BEEBEEBEEP BEEBEEBEEP

I know without having to check that my pump is out of insulin.

Perfect timing, as always.

“Take care of your pump.” Henry kisses me again, though this time briefly. “Meet me back in the gym when you’re done.”

I give a reluctant sigh. “While you’re waiting for me, can you come up with the solution for my broken pancreas and shitty immune system?”

He nods in all seriousness, but there is a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “I’ll get right on that.”

Rather be a Nightmare Than Die Unaware

Since H planned our last date night, I get to plan the next one.

Once we finished our target practice for the day, I told H to go occupy himself for the next twenty minutes while I got everything prepared, and at exactly six, I call him into the living room, where I’ve lit a few candles and turned off all the lights. My laptop sits on the coffee table, which is pushed back towards the wall the TV rests against, leaving a large open area for what I have planned. Playing from my laptop is a playlist I created for tonight, and right now “’S Wonderful” from Funny Face is playing from its small speakers. The voices of Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn fill the room as a mystified Henry walks into the room. I extend a hand out towards him from where I stand in the middle of the room, and he takes it without hesitation.

“Every classic romance movie has a dance scene,” I say, pulling him towards me. “I thought we could have our own.”

“I’m not a good dancer,” he warns, holding our linked hands up next to us while his other hand grips my waist.

I sling my arm across his shoulder, resting my head against his chest. “Doesn’t matter.”

The two of us sway to the song in a gentle side-step motion, with his chin resting on my head, and my cheek resting against his heart, which beats steadfast and strong, like a song of its own.

The playlist goes to the next song, then the next, and still we dance, so wrapped up in each other that time becomes irrelevant, as cliché as that is. It may be easy to feel like you’re in your own little world when you are in a bunker on an abandoned island, but I feel it nonetheless.

When the fourth song begins to play, Henry gives me an odd look. The previous songs have all been from old Hollywood movies, but I couldn’t resist throwing in a couple bangers from this century.

“Hoedown Throwdown” from Hannah Montana: The Movie blasts from my laptop.

“You said your mom used to learn dances from movie scenes and do them with you.” I take a step back from him, starting to do the moves I’ve memorized since I was a kid. “Thought we could keep the tradition alive.”

Henry watches me do the routine for the first verse, then he makes an attempt on the second. His body is very stiff and he looks like he wants to bolt from the room, but he stays put and tries his best to follow along with the song.

I can’t help but laugh as Henry attempts the moves, especially at the “shake it out head to toe” part, where he acts like he has a bug in his shirt he’s trying to get rid of. Watching him pock and lock is fascinating as well. Seeing Henry dance like someone would in a Disney movie is like watching a dog do taxes. They just don’t mesh together but fuck if it isn’t hilarious.

By the third verse he has a better hang of it, and he’s actually doing the moves on time instead of a few seconds late, so progress is being made. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s even enjoying himself.

I’m out of breath from laughing by the time the song ends, and I expect to see Henry exhibiting the same amount of joy and exhilaration, but instead I watch him tense up and freeze. His eyes dart to the laptop, where the next song is beginning to play. Another Audrey Hepburn song.

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