Forced Assassin (5 page)

“And?” He waited for a typical female response—the kind he’d got from other women who’d wanted to get into his pants but denied it.

“So stop it. I need to turn around so I can get my hair wet then wash it. You have to close your eyes.”

“Do I now?”

“Yes, you do.”

“And you’re going to make me, how?”

She tensed, her shoulders going rigid, fingertips appearing over her shoulders as she crossed her arms over her breasts. “I can’t make you. I just thought you might do the gentlemanly thing and give me some privacy, despite being in here with me, which, as I said before when I used the toilet, is a total violation.”

“All right. Turn around.” He closed his eyes.

“Have you closed your eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t want to be turning around to find you gawping at me.”

“You’re safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“What, am I sure I’ve got my eyes closed and I’m not staring at your sexy arse? Fuck yes, I’m sure.”

The squeak of her feet sounded as she undoubtedly faced him.

“Oh!”

She’d seen his cock, then.

“Like what you see?” he asked, dying to peek at her.

“Um, I… Um. No, I don’t.”

“Liar.”
What the hell’s wrong with you, talking to her like that?

“I’m not in the habit of lying.”

Was she staring at him? Taking her fill? Did she want to reach out and grasp him? Kneel to suck his dick?

If only she would…

“There’s a first time for everything, Fallan, and that was your first time.”

“God, you insufferable bastard! You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, haven’t you?”

He knew he came across that way but couldn’t help himself from blurting what was in his mind regarding her. She’d sent him off-kilter, her presence grabbing him by the bollocks and holding on tight ever since he’d seen her eating that damn Beef Wellington.

“Not really,” he said. “Have you washed your hair yet?”

“No, so keep your eyes closed until I have.”

He held back a smile at her issuing orders. Given her situation, he thought she’d have been a bit more obedient, but she had a mouth on her and seemed to feel confident she could speak to him that way.

He liked a strong woman.

He heard her squeezing shampoo out and imagined it filling her palm—imagined how her hair would feel if he washed it for her. He almost pushed off the wall, opened his eyes and took over the job, but somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate that.

Not yet.

The scent of vanilla and honey wafted around him, strong and refreshing. Despite the heat from the steam he was feeling a little cold and, thinking maybe she had her eyes closed as she massaged her head, he opened his a touch to see how long she’d be before he could change places with her.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have done that. She had her head back, water pattering over her hair and sending lather down her body in a sensual, creamy swathe. His cock hardened further at the sight of bubbles coasting over her sopping breasts then down, getting caught on the curls between her legs. She was a fine woman to look at, even finer to be around. He could get attached in no time, but if he didn’t think before he spoke in future she’d continue to see him as an arrogant prick she wanted nothing to do with.

“Finished yet?” he asked, closing his eyes again.

“No.”

“Only, I need a shower myself.”

“Then you’ll just have to wait your turn.”

“Right.” He sighed. “Any idea how long you’ll be?”

“As long as it takes.”

She was enjoying this, he was sure of it.

“So if I told you to get a fucking move on because we need to catch some sleep before hightailing it out of here before the sun comes up—before someone comes to find us—you reckon you’d still be taking your time?”

“I’ll… Shit, I’ve just got to condition…”

He smiled. They had time, and plenty of it. No one but his boss knew of this location. Fallan didn’t need to know that, though.

He thought about her earlier request to go home. He understood her need, but she didn’t quite realise who they were dealing with. Frankie Lash wasn’t someone to piss off, and the guy he worked for, Waterman, was another to be avoided at all costs. Bishop was still keeping out of Waterman’s way. The man was narked at Bishop for working for him undercover and getting information on every job Waterman had done in the past. Bishop’s boss had wanted it as insurance—bribery to ensure Waterman stayed within the boundaries of crime acceptability—and so far it had worked. Bishop had grown a beard for that job, an itchy motherfucker he’d been glad to eventually shave off once his mission was complete—or, to be exact, when it had gone tits up.

But Waterman never forgot a face, never forgot the shape of a man’s eyes, he’d said once, and Bishop had been glad he’d worn coloured contact lenses. Even though Bishop was sure he’d covered his arse on absolutely everything, he still got the jitters from time to time, still looked over his shoulder, knowing Waterman wouldn’t let him just walk off into the sunset. Now Waterman’s outfit was connected to this job, Bishop was in no doubt he’d have to cross paths with them again…and possibly be recognised one way or another.

Fuck.

“Okay, I’ve finished,” Fallan said. “Keep your eyes closed while we switch places.”

This should be interesting…

He shoved off the wall and took a step forward, hand out to his right so he had something to touch and gain his bearings. The tiles were wet with condensation, silky like he imagined her slit would be. Her body heat reached him before she did, warming his front, and he held his breath while she brushed past him. The skin-on-skin contact set his cock to throbbing, but, before he’d fully registered that her stomach—or was it her side?—had come into contact with him, she was gone.

“You can open your eyes now,” she said. “I’m behind you.”

He opened them and moved under the spray. “Do you have
your
eyes closed?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to look at
my
arse while
I’m
showering, but I can’t—”

“Oh, be quiet. It isn’t the same.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, I don’t want to look at you. I’m actually staring at the plughole.”

He roared with laughter then asked, “Not my arse?”

“What, that hairy thing?”

“How do you know it’s hairy if you’re not looking?” He smiled, enjoying their conversation.

“I don’t, I’m just guessing.”

“Well, you guessed wrong. It isn’t hairy.” He soaped his body.

“It so is!”

“Gotcha.”

“Oh…sod off!”

Bishop continued to shower in the silence that followed, turning around without embarrassment to let the water sluice down his back. He washed his front again, paying particular attention to his cock, making it harder and loving the sound of her sharp intake of air and the way she stared wide-eyed at every move he made.

She doesn’t want me, my arse.

Chapter Four

Why, of all people, did this have to happen to her?
A gorgeous guy—no, the sexiest man she’d ever met—was showering right in front of her and, rather than being angry about the situation, she was busy drooling over his dick.

No matter how hard she tried, Fallan couldn’t tear her gaze away. His cock was long and thick, and a vein throbbed at the side, the foreskin pulling back each time he dragged his hand down the large shaft.

Mouth watering, pussy creaming, Fallan moved forward.

What the hell am I doing?

She checked to make sure his eyes were closed then took a step back.

“I don’t mind you getting closer,” he said, startling her. His eyes were still closed.

“How did you know…? I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Baby, I know a desperate woman when I see one and I bet you’re hungry for a thick, hard cock.” He cupped his balls with his free hand while his other stroked the head.

“That’s not fair. You’re masturbating.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

Stop talking, Fallan. This man abducted you and is now trying to get you to have sex with him.

You want to have sex with him.

Do not.

Do too. Come on, it’ll be dangerous, hot and totally worth it.

Fisting her hands, Fallan spun away, presenting him with her back. She rested her head on the wall, one palm flat out beside her head, and hiked in great breaths of air trying to ease her mind, clear her erotic thoughts and calm the fuck down.

Don’t think of him
—
think about the mounting debt, the mortgage, the funeral bills, the mundane job serving customers behind the tills and listening to their moaning when they can’t find anything.

If she had her way, she wouldn’t be fucking working on a till.

All this is your fault, Mum.

Fallan shut off the hurt and betrayal, the guilt at what she’d just thought. If her mother were alive, she’d know what to do. But she couldn’t think like that. Her mother was dead and she was all alone, and her mother had hardly signed up for cancer, eager to have it ravage her body and take her away. Fallan had no one now, and at the present time nobody would be aware she was gone. Her boss would when she didn’t turn up, but employees came and went there all the time. It wouldn’t be anything unusual.

I shouldn’t have taken the holiday
.

Bishop gripped her by the shoulders and spun her around, pressing her back against the cold, tiled wall. A tall and naked Bishop who did things to her she had no business experiencing. Not like this, not here, in this situation. But this man called to her. She’d been with men for sex before. She wasn’t all that into relationships but she liked a good, hard fucking. Fallan guessed it was the only rebellious thing about her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, not caring as her pussy leaked cream and her tummy muscles tightened. She stuck her breasts out, the nipples budding—a deliberate invitation for him to take her so she could get on his good side. She wanted to feel his teeth nipping at her hard teats, his cock in her cunt, pumping into her until she came so hard she saw stars.

Anything to make her forget where she was for a moment and why she was here.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me?” he said.

“I don’t,” she lied.

Fuck me, fuck me. Don’t ask me for permission, just take me.

Being kidnapped must have gone straight to her head. She never allowed any man to take from her—she was the person who took—but the idea of him doing what he wanted while she pretended his attentions weren’t welcome turned her the hell on.

What’s the matter with you?

“I bet your pussy is nice and wet.” Bishop pressed against her, his cock pushing into her belly.

“It’s not.” Fallan bit her lip—her biggest lie of all.

He moved a strand of hair away from her face and caressed a path down her chest, over her breasts, past her stomach to cup her swollen, wet heat. Her light dusting of curls was already soaked—not by water now but by her juice, but he didn’t need to know that.

She didn’t push him away. She didn’t fight. Instead, she opened her legs wider to receive him, silently urging him forward.

“I won’t go any further until you ask me to.” He pulled his hand away and turned from her, exiting the shower to pick up a towel.

“Excuse me?” she panted. Her heart fluttered and her entire body was a full ball of need.

He turned his back on her. “You heard me. Either tell me what you want or you don’t get to fuck.”

The ultimatum spoken, Fallan cursed the blush creeping into her cheeks. He’d struck out first and like a fool she’d let him.

“What do you want me to say?” Fallan couldn’t maintain the fight much longer. How could she deny what she so obviously wanted?

“You’ve got a couple of options,” he said. “You can say, ‘Leave me alone’ or, ‘Bishop, fuck me.’”

His words enraged and inflamed her, yet at the same time they melted her further.

Would he be vocal during sex?

Only one way to find out. Fallan might well be making a mistake, but she refused to think about that now. Life and everything waiting for her at home was boring. She worked, went home, ate and cleaned, went to bed and got up to start the mundane routine again. With it came worries that she was working for a pittance, money that barely covered the bills let alone the debts mounting by the minute. She was fucked, yes, but she wanted to be in an entirely different way.

Before her stood a man with a large cock presenting her with an opportunity to take what she wanted from life for a change. The consequences could wait until later. All she needed was to utter a few simple words to get what she wanted, to take herself to a place where nothing mattered, where worries and upset didn’t exist.

In the boldest move of her life, she stepped out of the shower, walked to him and dropped to her knees.

Gazing up into his eyes and grasping his cock, she said, “Fuck me, Bishop,” then circled her lips around his mushroomed cock head.

Fallan didn’t wait to hear him respond, didn’t think he’d answer in the negative if the throbbing of his cock on her tongue was anything to go by. She slid him to the back of her throat and sucked him down, drawing up her tongue to swirl around the head, tasting the tiny pearl of his pre-release before bobbing her head back down. He tugged on her hair to stop her but she held firm. As he made to pull her up and off his cock again, she took more of him in her mouth.

She wanted him to release on her tongue, to have the power to make
him
lose control. After a few minutes of her sucking, he managed to draw her off him, taking her arms and tugging her to stand.

“You like sucking my cock, don’t you?” he growled seconds before sealing his lips over hers.

Fallan didn’t know why he would ask her a question and then not give her the time to answer. She didn’t care—she wanted his lips, tongue and cock. Her body was molten heat. She sunk her fingers into his hair then eased back, stopping the toe-curling kiss with reluctance.