Page 93 of Meet Me In The Dark

“Home,” echoed Luke on another deep thrust that she felt in her throat. “Keep squeezing me with that fucking pussy, sweetheart.”

“Home,” Micah said, and he must have punctuated his words with his own thrust, because Luke groaned and began to come inside of her, making her come again, too.

Micah followed them with a roar, and then all that was left was Conor, holding her up from behind, as he began to pound into her, her thighs spread wide and helpless. Micah and Luke took immediate advantage, dropping to their knees and taking turns to lick her pussy, kiss each other, and then lick her pussy some more.

She was so close, aided by Conor pounding into her. But it was his words that sent her over the edge:

“Love us, Kara, like the good girl we know you are.”

And, like the good girl she was for them, and the bad girl she was for everyone else…

…she did.

27

Three months later

The mission—Kara’s second, if you counted the Chris stuff, and Kara certainly did—had gone off without a hitch. It was a simple hit, but a profound one: a Swedish billionaire had paid them to torture and kill his daughter’s abusive husband and record the whole thing for him to watch in perpetuity. Kara had taken lead, playing her honeypot role to perfection, flirting with and leading the target to her hotel room, where her men had been waiting. They’d trussed him up like a turkey, but Kara had done the carving, in part because she’d developed a taste for it, but mostly because she thought seeing a woman doing the work might bring some catharsis to her client and his daughter.

She’d been right. The client hadn’t contacted them on the flight home from Europe to Idaho, and she’d worried some, even when Micah had shown her the rest of the hefty payment in their bank account. But as Luke pressed the button on the remote clipped to their Jeep’s sun visor, andopened the driveway gate to their home, an anonymous text came in on the burner:

Thank you.

From me, and my father.

Kara’s eyesight blurred a bit, making the aspens on both sides of the drive go watery. She leaned her head against Conor’s shoulder, sniffling, as she showed him the phone.

“You did good,” Conor said, kissing her hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Conor, for his part, had let go of his qualms regarding her joining the “family business.” If he’d had any more doubts, any more guilt about changing her, they’d died alongside Chris’s last breaths. He had insisted that she needed more training, so the months between Chris’s death and this hit had consisted of fighting, hacking, shooting, and general hit-person lessons, most of which took place at the cabin. Along, of course, with so much sex Kara thought her pussy maybe deserved a dick vacation.

They lived there now, full-time in Idaho at the cabin. Lola had come to visit, once. At first, Kara’s best friend had been reluctant to accept Luke, Conor, and Micah as permanent fixtures in Kara’s, and thus, Lola’s own life; but after spending a few days with them, and seeing how happy Kara was, Lola had softly said, “I get it now.”

She’d been out of contact ever since, but then Lola had always ghosted Kara periodically, so Kara didn’t think much of it. Micah kept an eye on her, and would tell her if something was wrong.

Kara didn’t tell Lola about the hitwoman lessons. It seemed better that way.

“We’re home, baby,” Micah said from the front seat as Luke pulled to a stop in front of the cabin.

“I’m fucking starving,” Luke said.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” Conor added. It was around eight in the morning, but none of them had slept in thirty-six hours. And yet, even without sleep, Kara was still revved. Bloodlust would do that to a person, and she wasn’t even ashamed of it.

Luke, Conor, and Micah hopped out of the car. As Kara unbuckled her seatbelt, the door opened, Conor scooping her out of the car and carrying her in through the front door like a bride.

“Conor,” she laughed. “I can walk.”

“Yeah, but you know I love carrying you,” he said.

The house looked more lived in. Bobby the Basset Hound’s dog toys were scattered throughout the living room, waiting for him to play with when they picked him up from the boarder’s later. They didn’t let a sitter stay at their house, because even though they all lived under aliases now, they still had to be careful. Unfortunately, they hadn’t extracted a second confession from Chris before she killed him, so there was no way to prove Conor wasn’t at fault for Frankfurt, or get their records expunged. And the other two Johnathans had disappeared. But the four of them had agreed it didn’t matter, anyway. They preferred their life in the shadows. They always would.

A guitar case rested against the couch because Kara had convinced Conor to start playing again. And on the armchair near the window lay one of Kara’s notebooks—because her men, in turn, had convinced her to start writing again.

Home. The feeling spread through her as Conor carried her down the hall and into the kitchen.

Micah’s kitchen was mostly pristine—except for Kara’s favorite coffee mug still in the sink. It had been a gift from Luke, and said,Being your regular orgasm supplier should begift enough…but here’s a mug.Kara loved it, even if she had forgotten to put it in the dishwasher. Which was okay: Micah had relaxed (slightly), and so the kitchen, though still clean, looked a little more lived in, too.

Finally, Conor deposited her on the floor.

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