Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1) (76 page)

“She’s just trying to protect herself, as always, but that guy? She’s wasting her time.”

Raimunda asked, “Why do you say that?”

Lola was working the guy’s zipper down. We would be seeing her sticking his cock in her throat soon. I said,

“Two reasons. One, we’re going to see that biker’s happy face in about four minutes.”

“Yeah. So?”

“He’s not like the boys in our village. Guy like that, his happy face is the display that says, ‘system reset. Memory purge.’ By the time his eyes open again, he’ll have forgotten who she is.” Raimunda didn’t look convinced. “Look at him,” I said, “A blowjob is like a free beer to him. He won’t ever turn it down, but it’s hardly a life-changing moment.” Raimunda’s eyebrows rose. Lola was giving the biker a naughty girl, ooh, do I dare giggle as her arm was slowly sliding up and down into his pants. The biker’s hips were starting to roll.

I said to Raimunda, “If you want to fix an idea in a guy’s head, especially a hard man like that biker, you better get the thought well nailed in before you get him all hot and humping.”

His hand was finding its way up her short, plaid skirt and into her white panties, and her hips bucked.

Raimunda couldn’t help licking her lips. Me either. She said, “What’s the other reason?”

I said, “Mm?”

“You said there were two reasons.”

“Oh, she’s wasting a good blowjob. These are just delivery boys, I doubt we’ll see them again after the border.”

Sure enough, out came the biker’s cock, with some wiry ginger pubes. Short, fat, hard cock with an upward curve. First Lola licked around the head. Then she blew down the length of the underside. She cupped his balls and squeezed gently a few times and the guy couldn’t keep still. She stroked the bottom of his balls and along to the very back of his sack and the biker’s head was rolling back. He was tilting his hips and writhing, he went to grab Lola’s hair, but she brushed his hand away gently. She made a ring of her hand to hold his balls and his cock from the very hilt, and she licked slowly and real softly along both sides.

She kept it up, gently touching, blowing and teasing, then she slowly slipped her lips over the head of it. Her head went down and then up, sucking as she plucked her lips all the way off. She paused for a moment before her head slipped down again and then up. She waited a little longer this time, then gently slipped over his shaft again, holding his balls from behind as she did. Lola did this slowly and gently, stroking him with her hand, gently squeezing his balls, blowing her hot, damp breath on the length of his cock.
 

The biker’s head was moving from side to side as Lola sucked his balls one at a time before she took his cock into her mouth again, slowly and gently. This time she went deeper. His fingers shoved her panties aside and pressed up into the wet crevice between her swelling lips.

Her mouth was going much farther down his cock, and her tongue was out, sliding down the underside, reaching to flick at his balls. Down she went and up. Down again, each time more slowly but a little deeper, then up. The biker’s feet stamped and his groans were rhythmic and loud. Then Lola plunged her head all the way down, got him into her throat, gagged herself and slammed her head down and down and down. His hips sprang upwards into her face. His hand grabbed her hair. He shoved his cock in and out of her throat so hard it looked like he might choke her. Then she grabbed his buttocks to pull him in and hold him. His shades fell off and his eyes were wild as he came in her mouth. She stayed down, sucking and slurping and lip-smacking every little drop of that biker’s cum.

Raimunda and I looked at each other. I said, “Okay, he might remember that one.”

Uncle Cesar’s little girls weren’t with us when we climbed down from the back of the truck. They weren’t given plastic boxes to carry, two each, and sent down the long, deep tunnel, crawling one by one through wet muck on their hands and knees.
 

Cesar’s lovely daughters Ana and Paola didn’t drag themselves up a ladder, wet, frightened and cold into a foreign desert at night. They weren’t herded into an echoing shipping container on the back of a big freight rig. Locked in for thirty-six hours or more. A cage in the back where the plastic boxes we’d carried were locked up. When we finally stopped, bikers came in to get the boxes before they let any of us out of the container.

And, at the end in that dusty nowhere, who knows where, in a big wooden one-story shed with what sounded like a barroom at the far end, Ana and Paola were not there with me, Raimunda, Lola, Inez and the others to be told that now they were going to have to ‘work their passage.’

The big biker drew his thumb down over his bottom lip. Looked at me for a long time. He said, “I’m not going to force you. I don’t need that. I’ll say to Jake that I did, it’ll be okay. Tell me what you want me to say that I did. I’ll square Jake.”

I stood my ground and said, “You can tell him that you forced me. Grabbed a hold of me. Tore my shirt,” I balled the front of the tee in my hand. Pulled downwards. Hard. The cotton made a slow rasp as I tore it. Tore a strip out of the front. Now my breasts swung bare. I took his hand. Put it on my breast. Pressed it there. Hard.

“Say that you squeezed my tits. Felt the warmth and heft. Twisted my nipples till they stung. Till they got good and hard.” I reached up and hung my arms around his neck. Looked down as I ground my hips against his leg. Felt the muscles of his leg as I gripped it between the tops of my thighs. I said, “Why not tell Jake that you pulled my pants open and pushed your fingers inside me.” I rubbed and rocked my mound up and down on his leg. Hard. Then ground my hips into his. Round and round. “Say you pushed your fingers inside me. That even though I struggled and fought, I was swollen and wet.” The bulge in his pants stirred and swelled. I felt it with my clit. Rubbed along it, over it. Felt the bulge hardening.

“Why don’t you say you made me open your pants.” I undid his heavy silver buckle. Popped his fly buttons.
 

I reached into the front of his pants. I said, “Say you made me put my hand in,” I gripped the girth of his big, hot cock. Pulled along the length of it. I put his hand in the back of my long, dark brown hair. “You can tell him that you forced me down.” I knelt in front of him. Hauled out his hot cock. “Tell him you beat it on my face. Banged it on my tongue. Shoved it in my mouth. Pushed it all the way into my throat.” I looked up into his eyes, “Tell him that you made me gag on it.” I put my lips over his bulb, tasted the sweet precum. Pushed my mouth down the length of it. Swallowed his long, fat shaft.
 

Felt my tongue forced down under the hot ridges of it. Felt it glide through my soft, wet mouth until it met the back of my throat. My head filled with the dark taste of his musk. I put my hand on his, on the back of my head. Pressed. Hard. Sweet saliva gushed in my mouth as the hot, slick head of his cock breached into my throat. His other hand came round to the back of my head then. Yes, I thought, YES. He grabbed my hair. Hard.

My hands felt the knots of his strong, clenching thighs. Slid around to his hard round ass as it drove his cock hard, deep into my throat. In an out. Hot. Pulsing. Christ, what a gorgeous ass. I sucked. I was hot between my legs. And wet. I wanted my hands on my pussy. Or him. But now I was too busy. Sucking on his throbbing cock.

His long shaft plowed into my mouth, reamed down my throat, slid back to my lips, then drove in again. Again and again. Harder. Deeper. Till my nose reached his pubes and his balls slapped on my chin. Faster now. His hips thrust and his ass clenched hard as he fucked my face. The hard cock began to swell and pulse rhythmically and his cum exploded into my wet, hungry mouth. He pumped hot, salty spunk into my mouth and my throat. Pumped until it dribbled out of my lips.

I stood to face him. Looked in his eye as I pushed the little dribble of cum with my finger. Pushed it up onto my tongue. Lapped it up and then licked my lips. Swallowed. Slowly.

He lifted me. Put his hands under my buttocks and lifted me onto the table. Yanked down the zipper of my denim cut-offs and pulled my little black panties aside. I saw that he smelled my perfume the same time as it hit my nose. His lip curled as he bowed his head towards my lap. As I watched his mouth draw nearer to the scent of my hot crotch I fidgeted my ass towards him. My nipples pointed and swelled out of the torn rags of my tee.

He looked up as he said, “Shall I tell Jake that I licked and sucked on the nub of your clit?”

I said, “No.”

He said, “Or that I pushed my tongue up between your thick, soft lips, deep into your pussy?”

“No,”

“That I dragged my fingers inside you, my wrist between your clenching thighs? Pulled my fingers forward, grazed the fold in there, found the spot that makes you spring?”

“No,” I gasped, as his lips pressed into the hood of my clit, “No. Don’t tell Jake that.”

My thighs were over his wide shoulders. His huge hands squeezed my butt cheeks as his hard, mobile tongue snaked inside me. I leaned back on my elbows. Looked down over my bouncing breasts at his head, deep between my tightening thighs. My back stretched. My fingers grasped. My ass felt tiny, childish in his hands.

My voice was thick and I panted as I said, “You have any lube, American?”

His head shook slowly, pulling his lips across my clit.

“Good.” my stomach still rippled with the last orgasm, “Don’t tell him that you reamed and burned my soft little ass raw, either.” I squeezed his head, feeling his wiry curls scrape inside my thighs as I shook and my juices gushed into his mouth.

Soon after they hurried us in the back of the shed, they fed us some tasteless Yankee fast-food shit, cheap ground-up meat waste in weightless bread. Before we finished it the floor of the shed shook and we heard the bikes. A big enough roar that you couldn’t say how many there were, but it sounded like a lot. We heard voices and felt the beat of heavy boots make the wood flooring vibrate. A biker with a red bandana and shades came in and looked around. Picked out two of the youngest girls, Perla and Jazmin. Said, “I bet you two can dance. Here, put these on.”

He handed them a couple of silver bikini bottoms. Waited while the girls stripped off and wriggled the things on. Perla had tears streaming down her face. The biker seemed to like that. “Oh, you gonna be good,” he said, “They gonna like you.” He laughed as he took the girls by their bare arms and led them away and kicked the door shut behind them.

Then bikers took the rest of us to separate rooms. Small, bare, wood rooms. No windows, as far as I could see. Inez looked at me pleading as she was shoved into a tiny room. I saw there was a bed against one wall. But I didn’t acknowledge her, and we both knew why. In our part of Mexico, kidnappings were commonplace. Every schoolkid has spent hours of thrilling horror, turning over with their friends, what do you do if… Rule #1: Tell the captors nothing. All knowledge can be power, don’t hand them any.

When he slipped his fingers up between my ass cheeks, held my ass in his other hand, put his thumb against my little ass, he pressed. He hadn’t bothered to take off my panties or the tiny cut-offs. There wasn’t much point, they would hardly get in his way. Then he pressed with his finger, cupping my whole pussy in his palm. Pressing the mound of his thumb against the mound of my sex. I always think of my mound as being a great big bulge. In his hand it felt tiny. He pressed my little star, and he moved his finger around it. Slowly burrowed his finger in. Pressed down a little more.

Then he lifted me off the table as he stood. I put my arms over his shoulders. I gripped my legs around his ribs. Tilted my pelvis up. The lips of my puss tingled on the hair at the bottom of his stomach. The curls that led down to his cock. My buttocks felt the bones of his wide pelvis. My ass felt the head of his hard cock. He looked at me and said,

“You aint done this before.” His lips tightened very slightly as he said, “You aint done a whole lot of this before, have you. You sure aint no whore.” His eyes looked hard into mine for some time before he said, “No, you aint no whore. Lot of men will pay a lot of money to have you act like one, though.” Did his voice soften, or did I imagine it?

Probably I was just dreaming. Catching a stale whiff from one of the damned tele-novellas my Mama and my little sister Inez watch every afternoon. Or if not, if his voice really did soften a little, it was most likely a mixture of jealousy and admiration for the money that Jake was going to make out of me.

I said, “You mean if I act like I’ve been acting with you, American?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And what if I’m not willing to do that? What if I won’t do it with just whoever comes through that door?”

“We’re talking about hardcore MC brothers here. If they know you’re going to put up a fight, they’ll pay even more.”

My lips tightened between my teeth. He said, “Well, we’re here,” and I clung on to him. Tight. Pressed my breasts against him through the ripped cotton. But he only pressed gently against my ass. I tried to relax. That made it easier. But not much. I couldn’t really relax much. And my ass was tiny. And his cock was huge.

I said, “You want me to put up a fight, American?”

He stopped. Looked at me. His cock was just engaged at the opening to my ass. “Whatever you want. It’ll be okay with me.”

Then he pressed in. He slid into my ass and out, and deeper in, and slowly out, and on. The strokes got faster and harder, and he got harder, and my ass hurt like hell. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it, but I saw no reason to let him know that if I could help it.

Gripping on tight to him with my thighs, I stretched back. He put out his hand out along my back. And he rammed harder in. It ached and burned, but through the pain was a thrill that I hadn’t ever felt before. Something deep. And dark. But strong. It was like an echo of something from long ago. Impossibly long ago.

Then he lifted me off his cock. Lifted me like I was a bag of sugar or a cake. I couldn’t imagine this biker with either of those things though. So like a what? A bag of money, probably. Dirty dollars in bundles of thousands.