Page 44 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

Someone’s here. I don’t turn. I just reload and fire again, tighter grouping this time, right through the center mass like I wish I could do to anyone involved in this.

“Lee.”

Elliot’s voice is rough, right behind me. I stiffen but don’t stop. My finger squeezes again. The shot cracks loud enough to rattle my bones.

“Why are you here?” I snap, voice flat. I reload and shoot another round.

“Talk to me. What the hell happened tonight? You look like you’re going to kill anyone in your path.”

I laugh, short and bitter, and keep shooting.

“Nothing you can fix. Go away, Elliot.”

Of course he doesn’t.

Instead, his hands settle on my hips from behind, warm and steady through the thin fabric of my skirt.

I should shove him away. I should tell him to fuck right off. But the next shot goes wide because his hand brushes over the curve of my ass.

“Lee,” he says against my ear, breath hot. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

I line up my gun again, jaw tight.

“I said nothing.”

His palms slide lower, then he drags my skirt up inch by inch until cool air hits the back of my thighs. My pulse spikes. I fire, and then his fingers hook into my panties, dragging them down my legs in one smooth yank. They catch on my heels. I don’t step out. I just spread my legs wider, bracing, because his mouth is already there.

“Fuck,” I hiss as his tongue drags up my slit from behind, slow and filthy.

He groans like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted, and the vibration buzzes straight to my clit.

I squeeze the trigger again. The gunshot masks the wet sound of him licking into me. He eats me like he wants to taste every inch of my heat. Switching between broad strokes of his tongue and spearing inside me. He doesn’t stop until my knees buckle.

I fire again. The recoil jolts through me and straight into the pleasure building low in my belly. My free hand grips the counter hard enough to whiten my knuckles.

“Elliot—shit—don’t⁠—”

He spreads me wider with his fingers, tongue fucking inside me now, deep and relentless. I’m so soaked it has to be dripping down his chin.

My next shot goes high. I don’t care. I’m grinding back against his face, like some desperate whore. I am for him though. I came here to try and kill a few demons and ended up getting devoured instead.

He pulls back just long enough to growl, “Still not talking?”

Then he buries his face again, two thick fingers sliding into me, curling hard. I come with a curse that gets swallowed by the next gunshot. My body jerks sharp and sudden as my orgasm forces my body to clamp down and shake.

I’m still pulsing when he stands. The sound of his belt and zipper fills the room. Before I can catch my breath, he spins me around, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and drops me onto my back on the shooting counter. My legs are shoved up and back until my knees are almost beside my ears, completely exposed.

He spits once, thick and deliberate, right onto my asshole, then notches the head of his cock there.

“Elliot,” I start.

“Shh.” He pushes forward. The thick head breaches the tight ring of muscle. I gasp at the burn. He doesn’t stop. He sinks into my ass in one long, relentless stroke until he’s sealed himself inside the tight channel.

At the same time, he reaches for the gun I dropped, clears the chamber with a loud metallic click so I hear it’s empty, and presses the thick barrel against my dripping pussy.

“Fine,” he says, voice low and cruel, eyes locked on mine. “You need a gun to help you feel better? I’ll give you that too.”

He pushes the barrel inside my entrance in one slow, filthy slide while his cock stays buried deep in my ass. The double stretch is overwhelming. It’s so hot: thick cock in my ass and cold, unyielding steel filling my cunt from the front. I cry out, back arching off the counter.