Turn of a Hired Gun

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He tries to pull one-up on his dangerous colleague.
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It's not that Christopher Roman was actually attracted to Carina Days—it was more that he would do anything to fuck a warm, soft, willing woman. Three months was a long dry spell, and he was tired of whacking off to cheap, online pornos; his salary could barely afford rent and groceries, let alone subscription to a high-quality site where the stars were actually paid to make fucking look good.

Carina Days, however, would be breaking this rut in his sex life when he showed her the dirt he had on her. With her smooth dark skin, voluptuous body, dick-sucking lips, and a cute little frown that tended to be her permanent look most days, some might say she was pretty.

But no, he wasn't attracted to Carina Days at all. He just wanted to fuck her.

Blackmailing her into having sex with him wouldn't be all bad for Days. Roman prided himself in a well-sized cock, and at thirty-six years of age, he was but a few years older than her. His black hair was only just beginning to silver, and because of his job he still had his lean, wiry muscles. In the industry he was in, not staying in shape meant not staying alive.

Currently, he was staking out in front of Ms. Days' apartment complex. From all the info he'd dug up on her, she was newly single and lived with Honey Garter, who also worked at the agency. Hearsay at the office said Garter was leaving this morning to spend the weekend upstate with her fiancée. That meant that Roman could look forward to some alone time with Days.

His balls ached just thinking about it.

He sat outside for another hour before he saw Days and Garter exit their apartment with luggage in hand. Watching them head down the stairs, Roman felt disquiet creep up his spine. He hadn't heard that Days was going with them, but maybe she'd changed her mind during the night before.

He watched as a dark blue convertible pulled up with the top down, and the two women threw the bags into the backseat of the car. Days hugged Garter goodbye and waved at the driver, then went back inside.

Roman waited for another hour before making his move. Patience was a must-have virtue in his line of work. Too hasty meant you fucked up a job, or got fucked up yourself. Whether it was done by the enemy, or done by your boss, depended on where the mistake was made.

He grabbed a manila folder and stepped out of the car, locking it behind him and looking around. Then he made his way slowly up the steps, ignoring the excitement that tried to take control of him. Taking a few breaths, he finally knocked on Carina Days' door.

It opened several seconds later, she standing barefoot in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Roman had a feeling she wasn't wearing a bra.

He watched as Days looked around and

then up into his face. "Roman? What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Agent Days," he said, nodding. "May I come in?"

"Not unless you tell me what the fuck you're doing here."

Roman shrugged. "Although this would be better discussed inside, I understand your hesitation." He reached into the folder and pulled out the first piece of paper; it was an execution order. It included that the subject, Daniel Pole, was to be killed for illegal drug and weapons cartel, and at least five first-degree murders. The person who was to have carried out the order was Days herself; he handed the paper to her.

She snatched it from his hand and gave it a once over, and then looked back at him. "It was my last assignment," she said, her eyes suddenly wary.

"You didn't finish the job."

Roman was ready for what happened next. Days was the best hand-to-hand combat their agency had, but although he knew she would fight, it was a small advantage. He ducked her first several blows, ignored the one that glanced off his chin, and side-stepped into her apartment. The next second he had his .45 out and pointed straight at her face.

Days froze like a smart person, but he didn't get satisfaction of seeing fear flicker into her eyes. She was too strong of a woman. "What the fuck do you want?" she snapped, ignoring the gun. "You went through classified files. What's gonna happen when Chase finds out?"

Frederick Chase, the boss. He passed the orders down from the top dogs, doling out the missions like candy. There were rumors of something going on between him and Days.

"Fuck Chase," Roman said, the gun still level with her eyes. "He's not going to find out, and neither of us is going to tell him." He held up the folder. "He will, however, hear about your little escaped guinea pig if you are not as accommodating as I wish you to be."

Days folded her arms across her chest, choosing to remain silent.

"Let's go into the livingroom, shall we?" he said, waving the gun towards the couches. He followed her in, his eyes dropping to her ass: two beautiful, round globes of flesh that he could barely wait to get his hands on. "Hold on," he said as she made to sit down. "Before you do that, I want all of your arms on the coffee table. I'm not a big fan of bullets in my ass."

"Trust me, Roman," she hissed, getting on her hands and knees. "I wouldn't be aiming for your ass."

Roman couldn't help chuckling, but when he saw how many guns Days was uncovering, his amusement drained away. Even with Agent Garter living in the apartment, they had quite a bit of fire power. She pulled guns from beneath the couches, behind the game boxes in the front closet, stashed behind the DVDs in her entertainment center, and more places that Roman wouldn't have thought to look.

After five minutes Days wiped her hands together and gave him an innocent grin. "That's just in here," she said, settling on her couch with her feet tucked beneath her. "We still have the kitchen, the bathroom, and both bedrooms to go through."

"I'm confident that you'll put them all out here."

"Are you?"

He just looked at her and gave the .45 in his hand a little twitch: a warning. Her eyes dropped to the gun, and then rose to meet his again.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked quietly.

He'd gotten her attention. "The past couple of months have been a bit rough," he said, placing the manila folder on the table. "And I've decided to take matters into my own hands."

"You wanna talk to someone?" Days said, turning her shoulder to him. "Go to a bar, join a chat room; get a fucking shrink for all I care. I don't have time for the shit your ass is spitting. So tell me what you want and get the fuck out."

"I don't want to talk, Days," Roman said, his voice suddenly caressing. "I want to fuck."

She looked at him, eyes wide in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Here's how this is gonna work," he said, gun still cocked. "You're gonna fuck me, and I'm not gonna pass it on that you shit on the job. You don't do what I want, or how well I want it, and your secret is out."

"You're not gonna blackmail me into fucking you," Days snapped, hands clenched in fury. "Get yourself a whore!"

"I've already got one," he said quietly. Days' eyes narrowed dangerously, and he suppressed the urge to grin; he had one more surprise for her. "And just in case you still had it your mind to kill me, I've already placed some orders of my own. If I don't walk out of here within twenty-four hours, someone else will send the paperwork in my place."

He watched her face, attempting to read her eyes. Unfortunately, she'd had the same training as him—the only emotions that reached her face were the ones she allowed through.

"This is bullshit," he heard her mutter through her teeth.

"While you think about it," Roman said, standing, "let's go gun-proof the rest of your house."

He followed Days into the kitchen and made her go through every cabinet and drawer, and inside and behind the stove and refrigerator. Seven more guns were sent into the livingroom, and they moved on to the bathroom, and then both bedrooms—he made sure to check beneath the mattresses, the one place, that, despite the movies, still got a lot of veteran assassins killed. All in all, there were roughly thirty guns piled on the coffee table and one of the couches.

Roman was impressed. "You have a good dealer," he said, picking up a .40 and hefting it in his hands.

"Try not to make it sound like were doing crack," Days responded coldly from her position on the loveseat.

Roman stepped around the table and moved several guns, sitting across from her. "It doesn't have to be forced, Days," he said softly. "Fuck me like you would your boyfriend. Do your part, make me cum, and I'll leave. You won't have to worry about the papers ever again." He put a hand on her leg, squeezing softly. "I'll make it worth your while."

He saw a look of disgust pass on her face, but it disappeared quickly. Rolling her shoulders as if she were about to run a marathon, she faced him, meeting his eyes. "What do I have to do?"

He set the gun down beside him and leaned forward, grabbing her face gently between his hands. Leaning forward, he reminded her, "Remember, you have to play your part." He touched his lips to hers, his heart leaping in his chest as her lips slanted obediently over his, malleable and sweet. She even sucked his bottom lip, drawing it into her mouth and making him groan.

She pulled away before he was ready, but Roman let her get away with it. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Carina Days was suddenly embarrassed. "That was good," he said, taking a deep breath. "Now, take off your shirt." This was the real test. If she did as he said, then she'd go the whole way.

He saw the hesitation not in her eyes, but the way her body suddenly stilled, undecided. She was thinking the same thing he was. Her eyes suddenly lowered to the guns that surrounded Roman's body, but he didn't say anything. He just tensed his hand, ready to grab his .45.

Then gingerly, she grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up over her head, balling the fabric and holding it in her lap. Her ample breasts were the perfect color of flawless dark chocolate, topped by taut black cherries set high on her mounds.

Roman took the shirt from her and threw it behind him, his eyes gazing greedily down at her. "Lean back," he said, pushing her gently against the shoulder. She did as he said and he grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge and slipping her sweatpants down her waist and off of her dainty, pedicured feet.

"What are you doing, Roman?" Days asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm going to get you wet," he answered, spreading her legs to bare her sweet, dark cunt.

"I wasn't aware that rapists cared for such things."

Roman met her eyes. "This is consensual."

Days snorted. "This hardly stands as consensual when you're blackmailing me to get it."

He just leaned forward, rubbing his hand gently across her dark pussy lips, spreading them to peek at the rosy pink of her inner sex. Leaning forward, he dragged his tongue along her hot folds, seeking her tiny bullet and sucking lightly on it, drawing it into his mouth. He heard Days' breath come harder, but otherwise she made no sound, and Roman pulled away, amused and aroused by the sight of her glistening juices.

With his right palm facing the ceiling, his took his middle and ring fingers and slid them into her, curling them in her cunt as he began to fuck her with them. Only several seconds had passed before he felt her walls suck at his fingers as she came, her body trembling slightly. He pulled his hand out and licked his fingers, watching her face. Days had turned her head away in an attempt to ignore what he was doing, her eyes screwed shut.

Chuckling, he stood up in front of her. "Days," he said. "I expect the favor to be returned."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him then. Rage was at the forefront of her expression—she made no attempt to hide it—but further back in the depths of her deep brown orbs Roman saw the lust.

Sitting up until her head was level with his cock, she undid his clasp and zipper, and then reached into his pants. Roman closed his eyes as her fingers wrapped around his partially erect member and pulled it out. Suddenly, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Don't bite down," he said, giving her a warning half-smile. "I'm not into that shit."

Days jerked her chin from his hands. Eyes still on his, she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around him, drawing him slowly into the moist den mouth.

Roman tipped his head back at the erotic shocks that jolted through his dick, groaning as her lips moved across his tender skin. She followed her lips with her hand still around the base, the technique keeping his whole cock smothered and warm as she slowly fucked him with her mouth.

"My balls," he groaned, looking down, watching his white length disappear between her pretty brown lips. "Suck my balls."

Days obliged, pushing his cock up and leaning down further. She sucked his balls one at a time, massaging one while the other was encased in her warm mouth.

"Fuck," Roman breathed. He grabbed a fistful of Days' hair and aimed his cock towards her mouth. "Open," he told her.

She kept her mouth tightly closed for a few seconds in defiance, and then opened wide. He gently pushed his cock in and began thrusting at a leisurely pace, driving himself crazy.

He kept going until he felt his balls begin to throb, and then he pulled out. Roman wanted to come in her tight pussy, her unwilling cunt squeezing his load out as he fucked her. "To the wall," he said. "Hands high, spread your legs."

Days sent a death glare his way, but did as he said, her back to him. "When's it gonna be worth my while?" he heard her mutter.

"Don't worry," Roman answered, smacking her right ass cheek and gripping it. "Later on, you get to be on top." Before she could say anything, he spread her ass and shoved himself into her sex, feeling its wet tightness like a dewy glove. He began to hammer into her, enjoying the sensation of sliding into silk. His hands moved to grab her waist, pulling her hips back on every thrust, and his subconcious felt nothing but grim satisfaction when her cunt suddenly convulse around him as she came. The knowledge that she was losing the sexual battle became his catalyst--his balls began throbbing wildly, and a moment later he released his load, pumping it erratically into Days' pussy.

He pulled out and turned her around, staring into her eyes as he squeezed her upper arms in a painful grip. "When you fuck me tonight," he said quietly, "I want to hear you. Moan, scream, curse, cry; something that lets me know you're more than obedient deadweight. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you!" she hissed angrily. "Why are you doing this? Why are you making me feel like this?"

"Do I really need to reiterate myself?" Roman asked mildly.

Days stalked naked into the kitchen and he followed, not trusting her. She pulled down a bottle of vodka from the fridge and grabbed a single glass. Pouring herself a drink, she gave him a look and then thought better of it and took a bigger slug from the bottle, downing the glass afterwards.

"If we're to continue our little adventure," she said, pretending to be polite. "Then I'll need to be a little tipsy."

Roman shrugged, his eyes traveling over her bare body. Her big hips and generous ass created that hour-glass effect that was so coveted these days, and despite the fact that he'd just fucked her, he felt faint stirrings in his groin. He had his own little hour-glass right here to fuck.

For now, at least.

Even if he wasn't found out by Chase and the top dogs, Days would find a way to get him back. Too much intelligence—the clever kind and the information kind—filled her hot little body, and Roman had no doubt that she'd make him suffer for this. Until then, though, he was planning to take her for all she was worth.

He poured himself a drink and slung it to the back of his throat, listening to any sudden movement. Good thing he did, too. He dropped his glass, barely registering the shattering of the cup as ducked the rolling pin thrown at the back of his skull. When he turned around, Days was still standing by the counter, looking at him with disgust, vodka glass in hand.

"Killing me won't get you out of trouble," he said, stalking to her.

"I didn't throw it hard enough to kill," Days shot back.

He lifted her onto the counter and forced her to lean back, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. Then he bit down on it—hard. The action drew a gasp of pain from her, and he used his tongue to wipe away the ache.

"Cooperation," he said, shoving his two fingers into her pussy, while his other hand flexed threateningly around her throat, "is all that's needed from you." He began to piston his hand, watching her face as she closed her eyes. She made no sound, but Roman didn't push her for it. It was the one thing, he realized, that he'd have to get the old fashioned way—natural talent.

Days arched her back, and Roman felt the walls of her cunt clamp down on his fingers as her orgasm tore through her body. He pulled them out and held them to her lips. "Suck it off," he whispered, his eyes on her mouth. Her lips closed around them, sucking his fingers in much the same way she would had his dick.

"If that's my punishment for disobeying you," she asked after several moments, "I wonder how much trouble I'd be in for holding a gun to your head."

Roman grinned at her cheekiness. "When that happens, I'll let you know."

Days pushed him away and slid off the counter, walking out of the kitchen. He followed her to the bathroom, where she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. While waiting for her to finish washing, the scent of her soap drifted into his nose, making his mouth water. It was a light flowery scent, and not too heavy as some lotions and body washes tended to be.

The water turned off and Days stepped out of the shower. "Hand me a towel would you?" she asked.

Roman reached into the cabinet behind him, grabbing the very last towel. A gun lay underneath, similar to the .40 caliber that lay on the table in the livingroom. He stared at it, feeling his mouth go suddenly dry. If he'd allowed her in here alone...it was probably the reason why she came in here in the first place.

"Forgot one, did we?" Days said, toweling the back of her neck, her gaze apathetic.

Roman took the gun out and looked at her, holding it before him as if it were diseased. "Did you know it was still in here?" he asked.

She didn't say anything.

"Answer me, now." His tone grew quiet and deadly, chilling the air between them.

Days paused from her drying and looked at him. "What do you think, Roman?"

Right at that moment someone knocked on the front door, and the both of them froze simultaneously. The knock came again, and Days dropped the towel as Roman grabbed her arm in a firm grip and pulled her from the bathroom.

"Are you expecting someone?" he asked with a quiet tone, walking to the front door.

Days shook her head. "But Honey's expecting a package." She peered through the peephole, standing on tiptoe. "It's UPS."

He nodded, moving out of sight of the open doorway. "Open it."

"Are you crazy?" she hissed, staring at him bug-eyed. "I have no fucking clothes on."

"Open the door."

Days stared at him for a few more seconds, rage written all across her face. Then her Nubian features cleared, and Roman saw a transformation come over her. She leaned her weight on one leg, accentuating her voluptuous shape, and parted her soft lips slightly. She opened the door.

The UPS guy opened his mouth to say something, and then just stared, the package and a clipboard in his arms.

"Hello," Days greeted, her voice low and slightly husky. Giving the man a demure smile, she took the clipboard and signed her name, and then took the package from his arms. Winking, she said, "Have a nice day," and then closed the door in his face.

It was several seconds before they heard his footsteps walk away, and Roman couldn't help but chuckle as she set the package down.

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