Chapter Two

We sit at the table, and I serve up what I managed to scrounge for dinner.  It’s a better meal than I would have made for myself – definitely.  Fried potatoes with peppers and onions mixed in with it, along with canned peaches and a couple bottles of water.  It still isn’t much, but the way she tears into it tells me how hungry she really is.

I leave the generator going, and the fan points close to us so we can at least be a little more comfortable while eating.  Odin plops himself down next to the fan to reap the benefits as well.  He watches Lia pretty closely but backs away when she reaches out her hand.  When she asks me if he’s friendly to strangers, I can only shrug.  He really hasn’t been around too many people.  It’s always been just the two of us.

“This is really good,” Lia says as she takes another bite of the potatoes.  “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Camping,” I tell her.  It is close enough to accurate.  “We did a lot of hiking in the middle of nowhere, so I can make a meal out of most anything as long as I have a fire to cook it.”

“We?” she pushes.  “You and your family?”

I hesitate before shaking my head.

“I don’t have one.”

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly as she bows her head.  I wonder if she thinks they’re all dead and she’s saying a little prayer for them or something.  I decide to take the moment to get a little distance.

“I’m going outside for a few,” I tell her.  I need to hook the alarm back up to the truck, which means first running out to the point where she tripped it up and set it off.  “I’ll be right back.”

Not sure why I feel the need to tell her that.

“It’s getting dark,” she says softly as she looks out the window.

I don’t reply because it’s such an obvious observation.  Will she tell me I’m tall next?  After picking up my rifle, I head out and Odin follows at my heels.  He sniffs the ground as he keeps pace with my jog.  Once I reach the general area, I follow her footprints in the dry ground until I come to the thin, detached wire and twist the metal part of it back together. 

Odin and I run back to the truck and clip the whole thing to the truck’s battery.  I walk slowly around the house using the scope on the horizon but see nothing of interest.  I refill Odin’s water dish, feed him, and head inside again.  I leave the front door open, which I do most nights.  It doesn’t have an actual lock on it anyway, and it works particularly well this evening since the fan is on and it creates a nice cross-breeze.

Lia is still sitting in the same spot, tearing the label from her water bottle.  I look her over, wondering what’s going through her head.  I can make a lot of logical guesses, but there are still too many parameters.  She could be thinking of her mother, the asshole who ditched her, or what she is going to do now.

“I assume you are staying here tonight,” I say.  I don’t know if I’m answering the question she is pondering or not, but it still has to be something on her mind.  Besides, I feel resigned to letting her stay.

“Oh, no, no,” she says with a shake of her head.  “I couldn’t impose…”

I want to laugh, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate the humor.  I go with straightforward instead.

“There really aren’t a lot of options,” I point out to her.  “It’s late. I’m tired and going to bed.  You can stay or you can go, whatever you want obviously, but I wouldn’t go anywhere until tomorrow.”

“I guess you’re right,” she admits.  Her fingers twist around each other on top of the table.

I stand slowly and start collecting the dishes and fill the sink up with water.

“Oh!” she suddenly cries out.  “Let me do that!”

She’s beside me a second later, apparently planning on washing the dishes herself.  I consider for a moment, and then take a step back.

“By all means.”  I’m curious to see if she really intends to do it or if she is just trying to be polite.  Her hands go into the sudsy water, and she begins to scrub.  There aren’t many, and she’s done quickly and efficiently.  When she places the last dish in the drying rack, I realize I’ve been watching her the entire time.

Slowly, I pull the towel from my shoulder and hand it over to her.  She mumbles a thank you as she takes it and quickly dries her hands.  She looks around the tiny kitchen area and finds the little loop used to hold towels and threads the drying cloth through it before looking back to me.

For a long moment, I only look at her and try to figure her out.  Some things are obvious – she’s running from someone.  Maybe he dumped her on the side of the road and maybe she ran off, but she’s trying to get away from him.  That much is clear.  On impulse, I check out her ring finger.  No ring, but there’s a clear mark around the skin – she’s worn one until recently.

Interesting.

Is it lying in the dust out there in the road or hidden away in a little pocket of the backpack she left lying next to the still open front door?  I tilt my head to one side and feel the brush of the fan’s wind against my neck.  I need to turn it – and the generator – off for the night.  I do both before walking to the far side of the little room where I live.

It’s still too fucking hot.

Gripping the hem of my shirt, I pull it up over my head and off before tossing it into a basket under the window.  I reach down and thumb open the button on my faded blue jeans.  I feel my mouth turn up into a half smile as Lia blushes and looks away from me – as if there is anywhere else to really look in the shack.  I shake my head and try not to laugh out loud as I dump my jeans around my ankles, bend over to pick them up, and fold them a couple of times before placing them in the nightstand drawer.

Deciding to at least leave my boxers on for her sake, I drop down to the bed and toss the thin sheet back just in case she wants to use it.  It is way too warm for a blanket, even a thin one, but who knows?  Maybe she is one of those who always needs a blanket.

“Um…where should I sleep?” she asks quietly, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“There’s only one place to sleep,” I say, which should have been pretty fucking obvious.  Rolling and scooting to my side to offer her as much room as possible, I gesture to the other side of the twin bed.  “Right here.”

She looks around a bit, and I can almost hear her mind contemplating her options.  There are the rocking chairs on the porch and the card table in the kitchen, which wouldn’t hold half her weight.  Other than that, there is the wood floor to sleep on – that’s it.

I shake my head slowly.

“Just lay down.”

I watch her throat bob as she swallows again, then walks slowly over to the side of my bed.  She doesn’t bother taking anything off, which doesn’t surprise me at all.  She’ll be way too hot to sleep, but that’s her problem.

Actually, she’s just plain hot.

I’m pretty sure it’s not just because I haven’t seen an actual female for three months that makes me think like this.  Her hair is gorgeous and makes me want to run my fingers through it while my cock slides in and out of her mouth.  She’s got a perfect build, too.  She’s not too skinny, which I fucking hate, but has kind of an athletic build.  She isn’t quite muscular enough to remind me of the chicks who served with me, but still well-formed.  She’s got a real woman’s hips, which I want to grip while I pound into her pussy.  Nice ass, too, which makes me want to roll her over on her stomach and grasp both cheeks while my cock pistons in and out of her backdoor.

There seems to be a theme to my thoughts.

She bites down on her lower lip as she first sits on the bed and then stretches out next to me, which is when it occurs to me that I’d really like to just kiss her, too.  I chuckle silently to myself and try to get in the most comfortable position possible.  I lie down on my side still facing her and lay my arm across my own body with my hand resting on my thigh so she has enough room to lie down without having to touch me.  She also lies down facing me, which I find intriguing.  A lot of people would have turned around and faced away from a relative stranger, feeling protected by their own backs.  She knows better and realizes she needs to be able to see me so she’s not taken off guard.

She’s also staring at my bare chest.

Her eyes are just a little wider than I would expect from someone contemplating sleep, and her muscles are tight and stiff.  She’s not mentally tired at all, but only going through the motions because it’s time to go to sleep, not because she wants to.  She may be physically exhausted, but her mind won’t let her relax.  She’s too anxious to sleep, and I wonder if her thoughts are more on the strange man whose bed she is in or the one who dumped her on the side of the road without regard for her safety.

That thought pisses me off a bit.

I watch her watch me, and every time I look at her lips I think of either covering them with my own or maybe filling her mouth with my cock.  Every time I look lower, I want to find some other warm place to hide my dick for an hour or so.

Yeah, there is definitely a theme.

“You’re making me nervous,” she says.

I glance up from her hip back to her face.

“How?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

“You keep staring at me.”

I try to hold back a laugh, but I can’t help myself.

“You are by far the most interesting thing I have had to look at in a long, long time.”

Her eyes are wary and nervous, and I feel a little bad.  My flippant comment probably isn’t going to help her get any sleep, and that really isn’t my intent.  I decide to lay it all on the line for her.

“Look…” I start, but then I pause.  I’m not sure how to say what I want to say without scaring her, and I don’t want to scare her.  I want to fuck her, but I don’t want to scare her.  If I play all of this right – if I read her perfectly – then I just might get the chance.  I can’t fuck it up though.  If I misread her in any way, I will say or do the wrong thing, and she will just become more agitated.  I want to have her quietly moaning my name into the pillow as I come in her, not freaking out on me because I pushed in the exact wrong way.

I finally decide on the direct approach.

“You don’t have to be scared of me.  If I was going to hurt you, I would have already.  If I was going to kill you, you’d be dead.  If I was planning on raping you, you’d be raped, okay?”

I hear her sharp intake of breath.

Okay, maybe that was a little too direct.

She tenses at my last sentence, which doesn’t surprise me.  Most chicks are more fearful of being raped than being killed.  Something about her posture and expression seem off to me, though.  As I look her over I realize that though I have shocked her a bit, she’s thinking about it in a slightly different way.  It’s not pure fear, as would be the obvious reaction.

I think about this for a minute and start watching her a little more closely.  It does seem to make her…react.  Her chest is rising and falling a little faster, her eyes are dilated, and there’s a bit of a tinge to her cheeks that wasn’t there before.  I’m not sure nervous is the right word – anxious seems more like it.  Maybe even something slightly different.  Like maybe she’s thinking about what it would be like, and not in a completely bad way.

I’ve seen chicks get raped - usually right in front of their dad or husband or whatever as a means of punishing him for whatever he fucked up.  That shit just goes with the territory in my line of business.  I don’t participate – I’m just a killer, not a torturer.  That’s an art form I don’t care to learn.  My skills are all with the guns, and the closest I ever see my victims is through the scope.  With rape, the chick gets damaged, and I know no woman really wants that.  That’s not the same as thinking about it, though, and I know the difference between fantasy and reality.

I process the information in my head.

Some guy, one who is close to her and maybe even her husband, dumped her on the side of the road…and now she wouldn’t mind a little consensual, rough sex.

Interesting.

It’s temping, but the more I think about it, the more I decide I’m not going to act on it.  I’m not sure my cock is in agreement because it’s threatening to rear up and be noticed.  In a bed this size and with our close proximity, I really doubt it will be overlooked, so I close my eyes for a minute, breathe deep, and think about a few head shots until I’m in control again.

Well, I am until I open my eyes and see that she is still staring at my chest.  Every minute or so her gaze drops down over my abs and maybe even a bit lower as well.  The tip of her tongue slips out and moistens her lips right before she takes air deeply into her lungs.

I feel the slight vibration in the mattress as she shudders a little.  For a moment, I think it’s fear, but her eyes show something else. She wants me.  She’s thinking about running her hands over my chest, and the thought is making me hard.  My mouth acts on the thought without really having a deep consultation about it with my brain first.

“Touch me,” I say.

Her eyes widen as her tongue darts out over her lips again.

“What?”

I hate that.  People do it all the time, and I know it’s “human nature” or some such shit, but I hate it when people use the “oh I didn’t hear you” excuse to give themselves time to think about how they want to answer you.  That is exactly what she is doing, and I’m not going to give her the chance to think.

“Touch me,” I repeat as I nod towards her hand.  “You want to – go ahead.”

She hesitates, and her chest rises and falls with her deepening breaths.  Her eyes move to mine, back down to my chest, and then back to my face again.  I can almost see her mind working behind her eyes – weighing the options and trying to decide if she is going to go for the gusto or not.  She wants to, but she’s afraid of the consequences.

“Take the chance,” I say softly.

Her eyes are on mine again, and I know she’s made her decision.  She licks her lips once more before slowly reaching out with one hand.  My skin can’t help but twitch as her feathery light touch connects with my abs.  I’m a little surprised because I thought she’d touch my chest first, and the sensation on my stomach is unexpected.  It’s also too damn close to my dick, which is now being very obvious just a couple of inches below her fingers.

Hoping she will agree that it’s only fair, my hand moves slowly from my own leg over to her waist.  I lay it right on top of the hem of her shirt – just above the curve of her hip – and just let it sit there a moment.  Her eyes dart up to mine, and I can see her throat bob a little as she swallows nervously.

She looks back down to where her hand touches my skin, and her tongue runs over her lower lip.  With a light touch, her hand moves up to my chest and slowly traces the outlines of the muscles there.  She finds her way to my shoulder before going back down to my stomach again.  My hand grips her slightly on her waist.  It’s only reflexive, but she looks up at me anyway.

She doesn’t meet my eyes, though – she is focused a little lower.  Her lips purse slightly, and I can see the increased speed of her breaths in the way her chest rises and falls.  I want to place my hand on her chest to feel her heart rate, but I hold back.

For now.

“Kiss me.”  My voice sounds raspy to me, like my throat is dry and full of sand.  I watch her eyes get wide for a moment, flickering quickly between my eyes and my mouth.  As much as I want to lean forward and just take her mouth with mine, I stop myself from doing so.  Letting her take the lead – at least for now – is important.

Soon, though…soon I’ll be in control.  Once she’s decided she really wants it, I’m fucking taking over because that’s what she really needs.

“Go on,” I say with my eyes locked on hers.  “You want to.”

“I do?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know that?”  Her tone is somewhat defiant but not enough.  She might not want to want it, but she does.

“I’m a very good judge of character,” I inform her.

“You are, huh?”  She cocks her head to one side and looks up at me.  Her eyes are dilated even more now, and I know she’s just trying to think her way out of it.

“Stop stalling.”  My fingers grip her side a little to pull her minutely closer.  Just a touch of encouragement, which seems to be all she needs.

My eyes stay on her as she moves slightly closer.  She hesitates one last second before her lips tentatively touch mine.  I’m not having any of that, though.  She’s opened the door, and it might as well be a pair of those gigantic wooden double-doors that grace the front of some huge Bavarian castle because I’m coming in.

I grab the back of her head with my hand and pull her to me, opening my mouth and finding her tongue with my own.  She groans against my lips, and I tilt my head to one side to get a better angle.  She tastes sweet, like the peaches we had with our dinner, and I want to devour her.

There is nothing soft or gentle about what I do.  I want her, and I can sense the desire inside of her.  She’s not looking for a brief make-out session.  Whatever happened with whomever she was with pushed her to this.  She wants to be fucked, and I am happy to oblige.  My hands grab at her, and my fingers dig into her flesh a little.

My tongue dances with hers.

Maybe more like a mosh pit than dancing, but whatever.

I slide my hand down her back and pull her body flush against mine.  My cock is peeking out between the opening of my boxers, and I grind against her stomach.  I need to get her shirt off of her as quickly as possible.  And her jeans.  And everything else.

I need to be inside of her.  Mouth, pussy, ass – I don’t care.  I just need to merge with her…blend…be one…

She turns her head to break the kiss and to take a breath.  I don’t bother to stop, but instead move from her lips to her chin and then lower.  Her head tilts back as I move down her neck, letting my tongue flick out over her heated skin.  I get to the hollow of her throat before I am met with the cloth of her shirt, which pisses me off.  I want her tits in my mouth, and I’m tired of playing around.  I grasp her fingers and push her hand down until it’s resting on top of my rigid cock.

“You want this?” I whisper in her ear, my hot breath making her shiver.  I push against the back of her hand and tilt my hips at the same time, basically smashing her hand against my dick.  “You say the word, and I’m going to give it to you just how you need it.”

Her eyes are wide, and I know she wants it, but I still wait.  She needs to know it, not just me.  Her wide eyes finally look up to mine, and I feel her fingers twitch against my cock.  She nods slightly, but it isn’t good enough.

“I want to hear it,” I say to her.  “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”  No hesitation.

I don’t need further encouragement.

I grab both of her wrists and hold them together in my hand, raising them high above her head and pushing them into the pillow.  My lips smash down on hers, and my tongue invades her mouth.  She gasps and cries out into my mouth, but I don’t stop.  I don’t even slow down.

I need this as much as she does.

My free hand moves to my boxers and pushes them down enough to free my hard and expectant cock before I start moving with purpose.  I grab the end of her shirt then and pull it up until her bra is exposed.  I straddle her, my mouth still locked to hers, and rub my dick against the skin of her bare stomach.  I reach down, hoping she’s wearing a bra that clasps in the front, but she’s not, so I tear the fucking thing off of her.

She groans in protest this time, struggling against my grip on her hands.  I move back enough to release her lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” she cries.

“I’m going to tear your clothes off and fuck you so hard you won’t walk right for a week,” I respond.  “You want me to stop?”

Her eyes dilate further, her chest rises and falls rapidly, and her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she shakes her head emphatically.  I don’t need verbal confirmation this time, and I yank her shorts part way down her legs instead.  Her panties come with them, and I don’t bother getting them all the way off because my fingers can already reach what my cock is looking to find.

The tips of my fingers slide over her outer labia very lightly – teasingly.  Her hips push up, trying to find the friction, but I don’t give it to her. I just lightly touch her at first until she is squirming under me.  The tip of my index finger glances over her clit before seeking her opening and pushing inside.

She gasps at the sensation, but she’s wet enough.  It’s not because it’s uncomfortable at all, and is probably more in anticipation of what my cock is going to feel like.  She’s still moving around a lot, though her hands are still pinned.  I lean over her and run my tongue around her nipple, and she moans.

Then I bite her.

Not hard – not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to notice.  Her body tries to rise off the bed, but it doesn’t work – she’s trapped under me, and it’s making me seriously hard.  I add another finger, slide in and out of her a couple more times, then pull them out and use the moisture to coat my dick.

“You ready for this?” I ask huskily as I position myself at her entrance.  “I don’t have any condoms, and I’m fucking you bareback.  I’ll pull out if you want.”

“I’m…I’m on the pill,” she says, breathless.

“It’s a good thing,” I reply, and I shove into her.

The noise she makes is nearly a scream, and for a brief moment I think I have crossed a line.  I release her hands, and she immediately grabs my head and pulls my mouth to hers.  I feel an instant of relief before I kiss her roughly and use my now freed hand to wrap around her tit and pull at the nipple.  However, most of my focus is on the warm, seriously tight channel where I’ve just placed my cock.

Holy shit.

It’s been a while – a long while – and it feels fucking fantastic.

I rock my hips into her quickly – pulling out to the tip before slamming back home.  Her body jerks each time I hit her center, which tightens her up and squeezes my cock.  I’m only slightly aware of her tongue in my mouth because my cock feels too glorious.

I thrust into her harder, and she throws her head back and breaks our kiss.  She groans loudly, and I take the opportunity to lean back a bit and grab both her hips in my hands.

“You better hang on, babe.”

She makes a little noise in her throat that almost sounds like a squeak, but she obeys – gripping my forearms with her hands and wrapping her ankles around my calves.  The bed squeaks as we progress, and I move rhythmically as my cock claims her pussy.  Each push is fast and deep – almost violent as I bottom out in her, buried balls-deep with every thrust.  I pound her and pound her until there is sweat running down my back and into my eyes from my hairline.

I run my hands up her sides and focus on her tits.  I love the way they feel in my hands – perfectly round globes of soft skin and pebbled nipples.  I pull at them, and I want to suck on them more, but I like the pace I’ve set fucking into her and I’d have to slow down to reach her with my mouth.  Even touching them slows me down, and I want to pound her harder.  More importantly, I want a decent view of her ass.

I pull out, and she whimpers under me as I get up on my knees and wrench her hands from my arms.

“Get on your hands and knees,” I tell her.  “Spread those legs.”

My voice is quiet, but my tone still makes the words an order.  She complies immediately, and I hear her whimper a little as I move up on my knees and into position between her legs. I grab her hips and slam my cock back inside of her.  Her ass is fabulous, and I dig my fingers into the soft flesh as I move.

She’s fucking tight this way, and every time I slam up into her, she gasps and her pussy tightens up.  I close my eyes for a moment, tilt my head back, and focus on the feeling of her wrapped around my dick as I fuck deep into her.  When my eyes open again, I look down to where my cock is sliding in and out of her for a minute, but the sight is too fucking awesome and I can’t keep looking or I’m going to blow.  Instead, I lean over her back and slide my hands up her sides and around to grip her tits.  I pull at her nipples – not hard at all, but enough to give her a little more stimulation.  She moans and tries to turn her head around to see me.

I take one hand and place it on the back of her neck.  With just a little pressure, I guide her head to the pillow and wait for her to turn her face to one side before I lean in with a little more weight, holding her there.  I keep slamming into her as my other hand moves south, finds her trembling stomach, and then her pulsating clit.

I bring her to the brink, back off a bit, and then bring her to the brink again.  She is crying out, sweating, and practically shaking.  My own legs are threatening to give out, so I push her down flat with my body.  I lay on top of her back, my legs just inside of hers.  My hand is sandwiched between her pussy and the mattress, and I continue to run my finger around her clit.  I have to adjust my position a little, but a few moments later I’m slamming into her again – not as deep, because the angle isn’t right for deep penetration – but just as hard as before.

My hand releases her neck, and I grab her hair instead.

“My cock feels so good fucking you,” I growl into her ear.  “You like that?  Huh?”

A groan is the only response I get, but it is enough.

I slam into her harder, hold myself deep inside for a moment, and then slowly slide almost all the way out.  I would have pulled all the way out, but it would be too awkward to get back inside of her without getting her back up on her knees again, and I like having her all splayed out under me the way she is.

She likes it, too.

“Do you know how easy it would be,” I moan, and my voice is gravely and husky in her ear, “to fuck you in the ass from this position?”

I feel her tense, and there are goose bumps springing up over her neck and shoulders.  I smile slightly – she’s never taken a cock up the ass before.  My lips press against the skin below her ear.

“Not this time,” I whisper, and I feel her relax underneath me for a brief moment.  My finger circles her clit again, and she cries out.  Her body clamps down on my cock, and I push into her with a snarl.  My thrusts are shallow but quick.  I keep rhythm with my finger on her clit as I pound into her as hard as I physically can.  Her cries come in time with the creak of the bed as I slam into her.

I can feel it coming – the tightness in my thighs and the squeezing sensation in my balls just before the wave cascades over me, leaving me grunting and holding my breath.  I come hard and deep inside of her, arching my back a little to push in as far as I can.  As the wave subsides, I drop onto her back and my breaths come in short, hot pants against the skin between her shoulder blades.

I stay there for a while, just listening to the sound of our breathing and waiting for my body to relax.  My hand is caught between Lia and the mattress and is starting to go a bit numb.  I like where I am though and don’t really want to change the position much.  I settle for a slight roll to my side, pulling her body tight against mine until we’re in a classic spooning position.

Evan Arden – hit man gone spooner.

I almost laugh out loud.

Lia’s heart is still pounding as I hold her against my chest.  She turns her head over her shoulder a little and looks me in the eye.

“That was…incredible,” she says through panting breaths.

I chuckle.

“I know.”

She laughs out loud.

“What do you mean, you know?”

I stare at her intently, silently debating just how straightforward I want to be with a woman who literally stumbled into my life barely a few hours ago.  If I tell her, it will reveal quite a bit about me – an aspect I tend to keep to myself – to an almost perfect stranger.

A stranger who just had his cock inside her…

Well…yes.

Still, there are people I have known for years who don’t know about how much detail my mind seems to pick up and categorize in a short amount of time.  Deductive reasoning, Mother Superior had called it.  She even made me read Arthur Conan Doyle books.  Eventually I used it against her to get emancipated at the age of sixteen, and she was nearly ousted from the church altogether.

I realize Lia is still watching me and waiting for an answer, and I decide to throw a little caution to the wind.

“You like getting fucked hard,” I say with a small shrug.

“How do you know that?” she asks quietly.

“What? Aside from the massive orgasm you had?”

“Yes,” she replies, her voice still soft.  “I mean, how did you know before?  Before you…um…started?”

I shut my eyes for a moment and try not to sigh too loudly.

“You really want to hear this?”

She hesitates but answers in the affirmative.

Who am I to argue?

“Aside from the obvious bullshit nature of the story you gave me when you got here,” I start, “the ring finger of your left hand still has the indent of a ring you wore for a long time – either engagement or wedding – whatever it was.  You were too tight to have been having sex regularly, which means even though you were still wearing your ring recently, you weren’t getting it on with your fiancé or husband.  You’re a little timid, which means he was abusive to you – maybe not physically because I don’t see any evidence of that – but at least mentally or emotionally.  Guys that are shits to their women tend to feel bad about it, so when he tried to make up for whatever shit he did to you, he’d make slow love to you as a way of apology.  You probably grew to associate that kind of sex with the shitty apologies he never really meant, so as sweet as he wanted it to be, it left you feeling emotionally empty inside.  That’s why all you want now is to be fucked.”

I open my eyes and look into her shocked expression.

“Hard,” I add.