Free Viper: A Hitman Romance by Zahra Girard

deep I can bury my dick inside her before I let loose.
    Turns out, it's pretty deep.
    Deep enough to make her squirm.  Deep enough that she's howling for me to come.  Deep enough that I feel her ass pressed tight against my stomach as every single hard inch of me is exploring her from the inside.
    Jessica is shaking.  Her legs shiver and the only thing holding her up is my grip on her hips and handcuffs.
    I take a moment.  I spank her, again and again, and admire the ripples that cover her plump ass.
    The ass on this woman.
    And then it feels like every bit of me is flowing into her.  My feet go numb, and this tingling heat lights me up from my toes to the top of my head.  My world is her, and the indescribable feeling she brings out in me.
    I'm on the couch before I know it, panting.  She collapses next to me, and we're both covered in sweat and our own juices.
    She whirls, and next thing I know, she wraps her lips around my cock.
    I want to shake her off.  The sensation is more than I can take. 
    But her lips and her eyes hold me in place.
    She's sucking me hard again. 
    My cock doesn't need much encouragement.  With a woman like this, with her curves, the effect is almost instant.
    I take a deep breath, steady myself, and I'm ready to go. 
    Jessica slithers up my body and we lock lips.  I can taste myself on her.  I can taste her, too.  This woman is better than any liquor or any drug, and I'm happy to be an addict.
    "Upstairs.  Bedroom.  Now."
    "Yes, sir."
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    JESSICA
     
     
    Do my legs still work?
    Nature wakes me up.  Everything's sore.  Except for a few parts of me, which are just numb. 
    My legs are the latter.
    I think I forgot my name while he was fucking me. 
    Which was fine, because I sure knew what his was.  My throat is still raw from screaming it over and over again.
    Ryker is next to me in the bed, in the deep kind of sleep that only comes about after downing a ton of scotch and having sex until you pass out.
    I was in that same kind of sleep.
    Thankfully, the handcuffs are on the nightstand and not on my wrists.  Not that they weren't used.  First on me, then on him.
    I shiver in delight just thinking about it.
    I can't even describe how hot it was having every raw, powerful inch of him entirely at my mercy.  Thinking about it makes my sex thrum with lust.  If he woke up right now, I could probably suck him hard again and we could have even more fun.
    Hopping quietly to get the blood flowing back into my appendages, I quietly make my way to the bathroom.  While I'm sitting there, I realize that my mind and my body are both thoroughly fucked at this point.
    I don't know who or what Ryker is.  He's more than just my kidnapper at this point, and I'm more than just a regular captive.  Things are complicated.  Because, as much as I should be frightened of him, I keep seeing flashes of a man who's so much more than just a hired killer.
    I know he has a secret.  I know I want to help him.  I know I care about him.
    This isn't Stockholm syndrome.  That doesn't happen overnight.  And it doesn't start with a jaw-droppingly handsome man picking you up at a bar.
    Beyond that, I know nothing about him aside from the fact that he's the most terrifying thing on this earth when he's angry.  Oh, and that he's about as well endowed as a thoroughbred and has the endurance to match.
    Other than that, he's a total mystery.  But he's one I want to solve.  Or at least explore for a while longer.
    I wash up, and I go back to the bedroom.  He's still asleep.
    There's a whole novel of scars and tattoos written on that body of his.  A life story that he's kept to himself out of the well-founded fear that he can't trust anyone.
    I sit and read him by moonlight.
    And I wonder.
    According to him, there's no one close to him.  No one in his life.  The only things he keeps close are his guns and his money.
    So,