Page 29 of Stolen By the Hit Man
“You just gotta believe that I’ll take care of you.”
And that’s all I’m gonna tell her about that.
My lips close around her clit, and I gently suck.
“Oh…my…god…” I feel her lose herself as she whimpers and writhes under me. Good. Get the fuck out of your head. Dealing with consequences and aftermath is my job.
Being with Jasmyn has unlocked something inside me, and I’ll never be the same after today. I’m not a loner anymore. I’ve let her in and shown her the worst parts of me, and she still wants me.
I need to leave the darkness behind and choose the light. Everything about Jasmyn signals that she’s my way out of the dark. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her. There’s no going back.
Jasmyn moans and jerks her hips while my mouth and hands play her like a symphony. Her nails dig into my scalp as she seizes and cries out.
We come together, her on my tongue and me all over my own stomach.
Chapter Fifteen
Jasmyn
My body is still humming as I lie back in the deep-soak tub, surrounded by velvety bubbles.
Humming from the orgasms, yes. But also…that other thing.
He said, “In case you didn’t know, you’re my girl now.”
Am I going to allow this? Ha.
That’s cute. I don’t think I could shake Joaquin even if I wanted to. He’d follow me for the rest of my days.
The thought of being relentlessly pursued shouldn’t be so appealing. And yet, the thrill is real.
But what happens when the thrill burns out? Would he be happy as a regular guy with a regular job? Would I be satisfied with him? Would I end up being essentially the same as a mob girlfriend? Just pretending I don’t know about the blood that was spilled to pay the mortgage?
My toes peek out from the mountain of iridescent bubbles, and I watch the suds slither down the front of my foot. The bath scents the room with a blend of grapefruit and honey. The scent of chocolate and brown sugar is also present, curiously. I pick up the glass bottle that sits on the edge of the tub. This is a $78 bottle of imported bubble bath imported from England. And those plush towels are $100 a pop. This is all a far cry from the dingy, run-down office in town.
Who am I kidding? The man low-key likes his luxuries, and I am in the business of it. He literally owns one of my chairs. That fabric sold so fast, I don’t even own one of those chairs.
We seem like a perfect match, if I believe in magical thinking.
But do I believe in that sort of thing?
As self-determined as I am, I don’t think I’ve ever explored that part of me. The first half of my life, I was just trying not to drown. The last decade has been about building my business. That’s it.
And now I literally might drown as I let my eyes close and surrender to exhaustion. Just for a little bit. This tub is so surprisingly comfortable, and the little neck pillow is in just the right spot. I could probably fall asleep outside in a thunderstorm at this point, I’m so tired from all the day’s events.
Sometime later, there’s a soft knock on the bathroom door. I open my eyes and tell him he can come in. It’s nice that he thought it proper to knock even after…well, everything we just did together. I like that.
The bubbles have disappeared, and my top half is rather exposed, but I don’t mind so much.
Joaquin pushes the door open, and I swoon at the look on his face—partly a gleam of mischief and partly hopeful. The chocolate and sugar scent overpowers the fruitiness of the bath, and I realize it's coming from the kitchen.
“What are you up to?”
My gaze travels over the lightly fuzzy landscape of Joaquin’s hard chest. He lumbers over and sits on the ledge next to me.
“Just a little baking. I found a brownie mix in the pantry.”
“Brownies? How long have I been in the tub?” I ask, sitting up and noticing my pickled fingers.
