Page 15 of Rent a Hitman

Was. Not anymore.

And oh, knowing I’m the one, the only one—it’s enough to wipe my mind free of reason and control. The only thing stopping me from fucking her mercilessly is knowing it wouldn’t be fair. I want to fuck her, but more than that, I want to protect her. She’ll never be hurt again, especially not by me.

“You didn’t tell me,” I whisper once I’m buried balls deep in her. I pause, gripping the shelf behind her head and grinding my teeth. So goddamn tight, like her pussy is trying to milk me. Or snap it off.

“You didn’t ask.” Her laughter is shaky, with an almost tearful edge. She touches my face, cupping my cheek tenderly enough that it threatens to break my heart. “Don’t worry. You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

There I was, thinking she couldn’t be any more perfect. What I want to do to her. What I want to make her feel.

I take it easy, giving her slow, shallow thrusts, grinding against her clit while I do. I’m easing her into it, though I know it won’t take long. She’s already more than halfway to the finish, straining against me, caught between confusion and inexperience and her body’s deeper wisdom. It knows what it wants and how to get it. All she has to do is get out of the way and let it happen.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes!” she nearly sobs, her mouth close to my neck.

“And are you going to come for me?” I whisper.

“Yes, yes! Just a little more!”

I lower my head, my nose buried in her hair, the pulse fluttering in her throat. Yes, she’s going to come, her already tight little cunt clenching around me.

All I can do is groan out the strain of holding myself back while she tightens, a high-pitched cry building in her throat. She presses her lips to my neck and screams softly before drenching my cock, her body spasming and her muscles now pulsing, drawing me deeper.

As much as I’d love nothing more than to bathe her womb with my cum, I pull out at the last second with a regretful grunt and aim for her thigh. Nothing in the world but the sweet relief and her even sweeter sighs fill my ears, the sound ringing in my head.

And now I wish we were somewhere else. I wish she could have had the kind of first time I would imagine her dreaming about. Something soft and sweet and romantic.

The hand on the back of my neck is gentle, her fingers running through my hair while she fights to catch her breath. And now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I see she’s smiling.

She was already precious to me, but now? I would kill for her. I would die for her. “Are you okay?”

She kisses my cheek, chuckling softly. “I can’t believe we did that.” And then asks, “Do you think anybody saw us come in here?”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to have a quickie at a wedding,” I point out before kissing her gently. “And if they did see us, good for them. This will really give your family something to talk about.”

“Now I kind of hope they did notice.”

“Good girl. That’s what I want to hear.” We disentangle ourselves, and I can’t pretend there isn’t regret in that. This is a day of firsts for both of us—usually, I can’t wait to have it over with once I’ve come. As soon as the heated, desperate rush has passed, I’m over it.

We fumble around in the dark, and I find a wrapped roll of toilet paper, which I use to clean her up as best I can. “Before I forget.” I’m regretful again when I pull her panties from my pocket since I’d much rather keep them as a memento.

“I guess we shouldn’t both go out at the same time.”

“Good thinking. I’ll go out first.” I check to make sure I’m straightened out before opening the door wide enough to see out. The coast is clear. “You sure you’re okay?” I don’t know why it’s so difficult to leave her like this.

“I’m fine, really. Thank you.” I’m not sure what she’s thanking me for—for all I know, she’s grateful that she finally popped her cherry. Whatever the reason, the sweetness in her voice spreads tightness in my chest that finally propels me out of the closet before I do something stupid like ask her to marry me.

The party’s still raging on, the guests slightly sloppier now that they’ve been drinking for the past hour or so. I wander a few steps closer to the ballroom entrance, scanning the crowd, my mind back on business now that the heaviness in my balls has lessened.

There he is. Leaning against the bar—actually, draped over it is more like it. I’m surprised he’s still standing after all the drinking he’s done, and when he holds up his empty glass, it’s clear he’s waiting for another.

This will be easier than I thought.

I move quickly through the clusters of people standing between us, all of whom are either drunk or halfway there by now. A bridesmaid is getting discreetly groped by a groomsman, and a trio of girls dance with their shoes in their hands. No one’s paying attention to me, which is exactly how I need it to be.

I leave a few feet between us, careful to avoid his notice in case he wants to slur an insult or two. I can’t waste time like that. Ainsley will be out any minute. As it is, I doubt he’d notice the Easter Bunny hopping past. I watch as he fumbles with his phone, holding it up close to his face like he’s having a hard time seeing what’s on the screen.

I discreetly signal for the bartender before sliding a hand into my inside pocket like I’m fishing for money. What I’m really fishing for is the small, square packet full of tasteless, odorless powder. The bastard doesn’t deserve it, but it’ll be quick. A sudden, sharp pain in his chest, and lights out for good. By the time it happens, he’ll be home in bed, clear on the other side of town.

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