Last Hit (Hitman) by Jessica Clare, Jen Frederick Read Free Book Online Page B

of jeans that look too big for her, with ragged cuffs. There is a large discoloration on the back. The shirt she holds in the other hand has the same problem. "The jeans I might get away with, but this shirt?"
    "It was me," I declare. I fist the shirt in my hands and tug it from her. "You must allow me to fix this for you."
    "No. What?" She tries to pull the shirt back, and the frayed fabric rips in our hands.
    Now she
does
look like she is about to cry, and she bites her lips to keep back her tears. I cannot withhold myself from her any longer. My hand drops to her shoulder, and I pull her into me. "It is my fault. I do not know how to run these machines. You must allow me to make it up to you."
    She leans into me and I rub her back—just her upper back—in small circles, as I did for a sex worker in Amsterdam who offered to teach me to cuddle. Then, I did not like it. I rubbed her back for a few seconds and then made her leave. But this is...amazing. Daisy’s little body is resting lightly against mine. I can feel muscles in her back, which suggests that Daisy is strong. The blades of her shoulders are sharp against my hand, which suggests Daisy is not eating enough. I want to scoop her into my lap and feed her with one hand and stroke her pussy with my other.
    She does not borrow my strength for more than a second before she is pushing away from me and brushing the hair out of her face. "It’s not your fault." She shakes her head at me. "I’m sure it was something I did."
    "
Nyet.
" I pull her to her feet. "You come with me. I will not be able to sleep tonight knowing I have ruined your things with my ineptness."
    She tries to scramble for her things, but I pull her away. "Wait," she says.
    "Daisy," I plead with her. "You must allow me to do this, or I will not be able to live with myself."
    She stares in my eyes. While I am tempted to shut them for fear of what she may glimpse if she delves too deeply, the truth rests at the forefront. My steady gaze must have convinced her.
    "Seventy dollars," she finally says.
    I smile at her and nod. I have no idea what she means, but I take this as acquiescence. I pull her out of the basement and head for the back door.
    "Where are we going?"
    "To my bike," I say. My hand is still grasping hers. I’m afraid if I let go she will disappear.
    My rented Ducati sits untouched in the parking lot between our buildings. I have only one helmet, which I hand to her. "Put it on," I say, and then because I sound like a
mudak
, an asshole, I add, "Please."
    "I can’t take your only helmet." She looks mutinous. I have no car, only this bike and only one helmet.
    "Will you wear it to the motorcycle shop? It is only a few kilometers away. I will take side roads and go slow." I offer her a compromise.
    She gives me a slow nod in agreement and pulls on the helmet. All the tension built up from fighting the
huesos
, the cocksucker from earlier, and convincing sweet Daisy to come with me melts away. I swing my leg over the bike and motion for Daisy to climb aboard. Turning, I flip her visor up.
    "Hold tight, even though we go slow, okay?"
    "Okay," she replies. Her eyes are glittering with excitement, and I smile back. It’s feeling less foreign.
    I ride slowly through the streets as Daisy clings to me. Her breasts are pressing against the thin cloth of my t-shirt, and I can feel that she is enjoying the thrill. I want to believe that her arousal is because of me but it is likely the simple vibration of the machine between her legs. At high enough speeds, the vibration might be enough to bring her off. I’d love to try that. I wonder if she is wet between her legs, whether the cloth of her panties is damp, or whether she is so turned on that the denim is soaked. I rock slightly on the seat, and I feel her press against me instinctively. I groan and don’t even try to hide it, confident the wind will carry the sound away. My cock feels enormous at the thought of her wet, the thought of her coming