Jagger

 

 

Her cunt was velvety, wet, as it slammed down around my cock last night in the most magnificent of ways. My piece is still sore from its slow drive into her tight pussy. I caress Mikayla’s cheek, determining that when I grow old with white hair on my balls and if I end up with dementia, my brain will never allow me to forget the moment Mikayla gave me her virginity. Momentarily at peace, I hold Mikayla in my arms and kiss her forehead. Then it hits me.

Fuck, I am a dead man.

I’ve broken so many rules. Keeping her with me while starting my next mission is the lesser offense. Screwing the target puts a target on my head by the X Members. And I’m sure somewhere there are rules regarding fucking already promised royals. It’s just something that isn’t done.

Too bad.

There’s no fucking way I’m letting Mikayla Bryant go. The next man who attempts to touch her will die, and every man who follows will meet the same demise—or worse. It’s inevitable. I contemplate my parents. How my mother had changed my father for a time before the rigid religious sect came to him. I was a year or two older than Mikayla is now, maybe, when those fucks came out of nowhere. They wanted him to murder the pope. My father refused.

I still grit my teeth at the thought of him not telling me. We hadn’t talked for a few years, but I would’ve put two bullets into whomever it was the fucks decided weren’t following their extremist Catholic rules, just to keep my parents alive. But my father was a changed man. He was a Christian, and my mother’s love did that to him. Made him weak. Made him a dead man and forced the woman life, he should’ve protected, to end with the same fate.

I can’t imagine a day where I’ll put my guns down. Mikayla will just have to pick one up, because she’s mine now.

“Hmmm,” she whispers in her dreams. I hold her in a bear hug and force myself not to crush her too tightly.

My mouth brushes across her forehead as Mikayla whines again.

I whisper against the top of her head. “Don’t cry sweetheart. If I could, I would enter your dreams and handle any threat, but that’s not possible, so don’t make me feel like a dick for not being able to do anything.”

“Hmmmm, what…” Mikayla stirs. Her tone is groggy as she asks, “Baby, who are you talking to?”

I’d sound like a pussy answering her question. So I toss the ball back in her court. “Good morning, uthando lwami. Are you in any pain?”

“I don’t know.”

I cock a brow. My hand reaches below the sheets and cups gently against her soft mound, stroking her lips.

“Mmmm, I like that, but yes, I am a little… sheesh, I feel like a wimp saying it hurts.”

“Look at me.” I remove my hand, subconsciously telling my cock to chill the fuck out. “You were perfect last night.” I want to tell her that soon enough she will be stronger. I have plans for this gorgeous woman. As she rocked onto my cock, her lips taut in pain, giving herself to me, I knew that it was the start of us. She’ll be strong soon, and fearless.

“Thanks.” She huffs, moving back a bit from me, turning onto her side to face me. Last night, her skin had this glow like chocolate diamonds. Today, she’s just as radiant as she offers up a sleepy grin and speaks, “Last night, Jagger, you gave me the best and the worst moment of my life. I’m so glad I can’t give my virginity away ever again.”

“Hope you’re not second guessing last night, because I have work to do.”

She grumbles, closes her precious brown eyes and then opens them. “Oh… Work? I’m not ready to get up, though.”

“That’s fine, Kayla.” I clamp a hand over her pussy again. This time, I’m even softer with how I caress her labia. “My work involves beating this cunt until it’s the perfect mold. All the sweet shit is over now.”

Her eyes sparkle in lust. She wants it, but she makes a fake grimace. “Yuck. Sounds barbaric. And you must not recall last night, I did all the work. Nevertheless,  I still don’t like you calling me Kayla, I prefer …”

“You did all the work? I came harder than ten men in a porno. And what’s this you prefer I call you my love? Really?” I scoop her up until she’s in a straddling position. Feeling frisky I jerk my hips until Mikayla is gasping and much more awake.

She tosses her head back in a laugh. It’s the same one from when she was seventeen and someone gave her a little black girl doctor toy…what, so I stalked her on Facebook before the mission.

Mikayla catches her breath, and her laughter tapers on a sigh.  “Not unless I’m in trouble. As if your body language and bark aren’t enough, I just love when you grit out ‘Kayla’ while extra angry it’s like Beauty and The Beast.”

“It’s the second time you’ve referenced that.”

“It’s a movie, Jagger.”

“Damn, now I have two movies I need to watch so I can discuss this with you. That’s more films than I’ve viewed in a decade.”

“Well, we can catch up on them later. Or are you allowing William Freedman to live. Brunch is in an hour, and although the strip is a few miles, it’s congested with pedestrians and drivers this time of day.”

Fuck, my mark? I’ve never missed a mark. Not physically, of course, I’ve never not shot my target. What I mean is forgot the task at hand. Getting a new profile from X Members organization was like a Christmas parcel. Breaking down the information and figuring out how I would murder a man made me feel good.

Now, it’s Mikayla that makes me feel good. Fucking amazing. And because of that it slipped my mind that we’re here in Las Vegas to complete my assignment. I’ve broken more rules than Ava can get me out of…not that she’d want to.

I run my hand along Mikayla’s innocent cheek and kiss her lips. She doesn’t know it, yet, but I want her to do the deed with Freedman. Her pulling the trigger will solidify our blossoming relationship. My cock rises at the thought.

“Mikayla, climb up here, let me eat your pussy before we go.”

She holds a hand out, I take it as her knees scoot up my body, until she’s straddling my face. Her sugary scent has me offering a quick lap from clit to anus. Fuck, her taste! Her cunt has been seasoned in her sexy juices. My tongue glides around her wet walls, as I massage away the hurt my cock caused last night. The action has her thrusting down, pressing my nose against her clit. I could die happy after this…

 

***

I’m dressed in a royal blue suit with dark aviators, Mikayla is the perfect complement in a royal purple dress. She defied me by not wearing one of the two outfits Trick customized for her. It costed a poor man’s fortune, but her safety is my utmost priority. She still looks amazing, by the way. The dress is two pieces somehow. A top that cuts straight above her breasts, and her cute belly button is showing. The remainder of the dress rides along the curve of her hips and she has on these dainty jeweled flats. Shit, if my paternal grandfather were still alive, he could welcome Mikayla into the rich South African society that he ripped himself away from after my grandmother died from cancer.

We’d fit perfectly into that elite world. Freedman’s private butler allows us entrance into the Octavius Villa. Mikayla’s mouth is agape just perfectly. I can’t wait to show her the home I built for myself. Her eyes land on every little trinket and I know I could become an unstoppable killing machine just to keep a smile like that on her face.

“Mr. Freedman is awaiting your presence,” the butler says, as we follow him.

The dining room is an exquisite large handcrafted wooden table. A newspaper in William’s hand covers his face.

“You’re here,” he glances down at his Rolex. “Right on time, but you two must forgive me. See, my wife found out I was in town and she’d like me to take her shopping. So please sit, eat, and allow me to make it up to you later on. There’s this event that you both look perfect for. Say you’ll attend. The two of you look… delicious.”

Just as I suspected. It would be a shame to have to kill him here, the butler had nothing to do with this.

“Where?” I ask.

“I’m not sure yet, it’s a private club, but if you’d be so inclined to provide the butler your cell phone number while you’re eating breakfast, you’ll be notified of the location an hour prior to the festivities.”

With that, William rushes out of the room. I pull out a seat for Mikayla as she seems reluctant and appears baffled.

“He’s creeping me out, Jag-Jace,” she whispers.

“Don’t worry, he probably wants to watch the two of us screw.”

Her eyes bug out.

“That’s never going to happen sweetheart. We will still be receiving an invitation to an exclusive sex club…”

“Jagger,” she grits silently, forgetting to call me by my alias. “I gathered as much from his cryptic talk. That man is too damn old for that kind of lifestyle. Heck, I’m too old. A sex club? I’m appalled that you didn’t correct his ass.”

I give Mikayla a sardonic look. We chatted about breaking her in, but not with an audience. There’s no way in hell any other man is looking at or touching her, and for William to offer such a proposition means the asshole is blatantly begging to be tortured before he dies.

Our food is served a few minutes later. Her arms are folded, and her thick lips are bunched in a way only Mikayla can make look cute. What the hell is cute anyway? I used to be a fan of exotic, and erotic, like Ava Sinclair. Now, I’m plain addicted to innocent, and cute, like Mikayla.

“Madame, please let me know if anything isn’t to your liking.” The butler places French toast before her.

“Oh, no worries here, unless you count the fact that my husband is in the dog house.”

The discreet man’s face never wavers. He offers a nod in understanding and takes a stand in the farthest area of the room to allow us privacy.

I pick up my fork and dig in. “Eat, Uthando lwami. This tastes even better than the junk you called your last meal a few days ago.”

Her lips pull tighter.

***

The remainder of the day is ours for the taking. Since the piece of crap in the bed of my truck is virtually useless, we head to an exotic rental company across from Tropicana. She’s taken by the McLaren as I head toward the motorcycles.

“Jagger, we could be riding in style,” she grins. “Or…”

Her mouth drops. Like a fly to honey, she moves toward the Lamborghini Aventador. “It’s lime green just like my sorority!"

I clear my throat, it’s not the exclusive Lamborghini I had chosen to sell Mikayla for, but recalling how easily I gave into Ava’s request has me weighed down with guilt.

“No, we’re here to rent a motorcycle.”

“Humph, I’d rather not.”

Her upper lip curls. Shit, I’d love to kiss her mouth right now, but my glare connects with hers. We haven’t touched since leaving The Aria. Freedman’s request has Mikayla agitated, and I don’t have the social skills to pacify her.

“Well, too bad, Mikayla. I need you comfortable on one. And one day, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced, strutting away from it. “We could’ve went to Budget Car Rentals if you’re in a grumpy mood. Or how about that?”

She eyes a Polaris Slingshot, which has two front wheels and one centered in the back. It’s a two-seater with no doors or a roof and can kick up enough speed for Mikayla to grow accustomed to, once we’ve solidified her in the X Member organization. I will mold her soon enough.

Mikayla walks closer to the Polaris that’s on a 360 display, turning slowly.  “Whatever this is, it’s enough letting my hair down for the day, Jagger. I like the idea of you teaching me later… it implies you and I’ll still have a connection once we get to South Africa.”

“Why would you say such a thing, Mikayla?” Instantly, I taste my fucking foot in my mouth.

Once William Freedman is dealt with, I’ve got to investigate who sent the African and the Armenian’s our way. So far, Las Vegas has been a short holiday, would be nice to extend it out to forever and never return Mikayla home. That’s my plan, but we haven’t progressed to her being comfortable enough in my world, yet. Loose strings can be tied up, whomever sent them will be dealt with, but for the first time since I was a kid and watching my parents love, craving that shit one day, I’ve started to contemplate a future.

It still includes murder. But now I’ll have to transform an innocent and make her my bad girl.

“I’m saying, Jagger, you’re holding out on me. I’m aware of Prince Fari, and a tropical island sounds nice enough to vacation on. But I’m still not seeing myself as,” her voice lowers, “royalty. Nor do I see myself married to a man without so much as ensuring we are compatible. You and I aren’t compatible, but you’re growing on me. After that argument with Trick, you refused to screw me. Then all of a sudden you caved. Now, I’ve spent half the day nervous about Freedman, and I have a few questions for you.”

“Damn. I heard women love to bring up old stuff, but wait a while, beautiful,” I tell her while signaling an attendant. We’ll get the damn Polaris.

“Oh yeah, you never did apologize for being a jerk to me after I saved your life. When we left Trick’s the other night, and you slept on the couch, I cried myself to sleep, Jagger. So I’ll hold this shit over your conscience until you–”

“I apologize.” The words come out with a quiet forcefulness to them and are not to be questioned. My eyes warn her to take the damn apology. And then I glance over at a woman in a black pant suit with a nameplate, she holds up her index finger to indicate ‘one more moment’ while offering a smile.

Mikayla chews her bottom lip. “Wow, I didn’t expect that.”

“What did you expect?” I keep my eye on the attendant with dark hair, ready to get the hell out of here. The woman seems to be answering meaningless questions.

Stepping in my line of vision, Mikayla says, “Your apologies sucks, so I anticipated a ‘why’ instead of you caving in. I’m willing to forgo a proper apology and instead have you give me a few answers. I’ll go right on ahead and ask. For example, why did you hold yourself back from me, Jagger, in the first place? We connected. I know we did.”

The dark-haired woman starts over, I place a hand on Mikayla’s shoulder and nudge her aside, while whispering a last response, “Beautiful, I do not answer to anyone.”