The Bounty

17. You Are The Father

[ 17. You Are The Father ]

Georgette always gave me shit about my libido, calling me some kind of sex addict. But she'd never seen Hayes in action.

He treated it as some kind of sport—no, an art. It was in every movement, every sound, every angle. The smell, the taste. All of it. Maybe he was just good, or maybe he really was attentive in all the ways he should be. I didn't know. But to be on the receiving end from a guy like Hayes was truly once in a lifetime.

I was on my knees in the middle of the bed with his body flush against my back, his cock driving into me with perfect force. One hand was on my throat, the other on my dick stroking me from base to crown with slick precision. I was crying—actually fucking crying—because he wasn't letting me cum. Hayes blew in my ear alongside little shushes from my whiney pleas of desperation. It just felt so good. Too good.

"Stop, stop," I choked out. "Stop or I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead," he growled in my ear. "Cum for me."

My body obeyed his every word. As soon as he said the words, I was shooting over his hand and onto the bed sheets. An unfamiliar yelp left my mouth as I did so and Hayes picked up his pace with both his hips and his hand, milking me until I was dry. When it was his turn, he pulled out, ripped off the condom, and forced me to kneel down to finish him off.

He came all over my face. I couldn't even complain because it was the hottest thing I'd ever felt. Like I said, he treated it like an art, down to painting my body with his seed and smearing it over my lips for the final touch.

I was still reeling when he plopped down onto the bed and took my chin in one hand. With the other, he swiped his thumb over the spot where his cum had landed between my eyebrows and brought it to my mouth. I didn't even question it when I should have, just parted my lips and sucked it off.

I found his eyes when my tongue was lapping it clean and they were unrecognizable. Dark and heavy and so full of an emotion I couldn't decipher just yet. He leaned in, removing his finger from my mouth, and I closed my eyes in anticipation for the kiss.

But he dodged me at the last second, grabbed a towel from the foot of the bed and tossed it in my lap.

"I'll shower first and then you can take one," he said, clearing his throat and standing to create a distance between us that made me want to grab him and do it all over again.

I just nodded, collapsing onto my back on the bed. He didn't go before binding me to the bed frame for good measure, of course. Not that I could even run after that. I watched him leave the room, listened to the water start, and sighed. There was a feeling in the pit of my stomach that threw me off, one that wasn't appropriate for a time like this.

It wasn't fear, like it should have been. Hayes's guest was gone and, as far as I knew, we had the rest of the day to complete his mission of killing me for money. I should have been shaking in my boots for my imminent death. But I wasn't. I wasn't even thinking about that.

I was thinking about how brutally empty I felt every time he walked away like the sex wasn't amazing. It was ridiculous. What was I expecting? For him to get down on one knee and pop the question? Not to mention, I was a kisser. I loved kissing and to have sex without kissing was a crime in and of itself. It was so impersonal and, fuck. I understood it from Hayes's point of view. There was no reason to have some lovey-dovey, kisses and cuddling, illicit affair with your future victim. I got it. I just really didn't like it.

By the time Hayes got back, I was having a sort of emotional crisis. Just the sight of him put me on edge.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the bathroom. He freed my wrist and touched my hip on the way, sending heat over my lower stomach. "I'm going to be right here, so don't try anything."