Page 36 of Run Little Killer

"Jesus," Lennon scoffs, balling up her clothes and adding them to the burn pile. "Are you just always hard or what?"

I wrap my fingers around my shaft and give it a lazy stroke. "Just when I'm around you."

She rolls her eyes. "That was corny as fuck and you know it."

"Bet you're still wet for me," I say as I step closer and cup her bare pussy. I cock an eyebrow as my fingers skim along her slick folds, proving my point.

Her throat bobs with a hard swallow, eyes glazing over with lust as she reaches forward to cup my balls. "I'm always wet for you, Nix Hawthorne."

Fuck the shower, I'm ready to collar her and fuck her against the door.

Just as quickly as she grabbed them, she releases my balls and steps towards the tub.

Turning off the faucet, she eases in, a contented little mewl slipping from her lips she sinks into the warm water.

She leans back, my dick twitching against my palm as her tits rise to the surface, nipples pert, rivulets of water beading across her creamy skin .

"You gonna stare like a creep or join me?" she asks, knees tipping apart, pussy on full display.

"Lean forward," I murmur, giving myself another stroke.

Water ripples and sloshes around her naked form as I step into the tub.

Water splashes against the linoleum as I slide down behind her, knees bent for her to nestle between my thighs.

At six foot two, I don't fit easily into most tubs, but having Lennon's wet and naked form draped over my lap makes up for the discomfort.

I sigh, leaning my head back against the tile as the tension in my shoulders starts to ebb away almost immediately.

Rhett's right– we've dropped more bodies in the last few days than we have in months– and my muscles are loving the hot water.

But I won't tell him that. My mind stills, thoughts slow and lingering as I relax.

Lennon's mom might not have chosen drugs over her, but she still left just as abruptly.

And someone dying on you like that makes it hard as hell to find closure.

You sit there and replay the last conversations you had, wondering what they thought as the end came.

You wonder if you told them you loved them enough, if they knew how much you cared.

But for me, those thoughts spiral out of control, because unlike Lennon, my mom's death was from something she knew could kill her.

Something that could rip her away from me, yet she chose it anyways.

Then I spend too much time trying to figure out how my own mother could know I care about her so deeply and still choose to stick the needle in her arm again.

"My mom was sixteen when she had me," I start.

"Sperm donor was some older tool, jerked her around, really fucked with her head.

She grew up in foster care, didn't have anyone, and then she was stuck in a single wide with a screaming baby.

.. I'm not saying it's right, but I can see why she got hooked on the drugs. "

Lennon tips her chin up, wet tendrils of hair snaking across my abs as she peers up at me. There isn't a fragment of judgement in her eyes, just an echo of understanding, enough for me to want to keep going.

I tell her about how much we moved around, the days my mom would pull me from school to have bonding time at the arcade and then the next week, I wouldn't see her for days on end.

She'd come back to whatever house we were in, sleep for a day or two, and then there'd be a new setup of scroungy ass men at our door claiming to be her friends wanting to spend time with her.

It wasn't until right before I went into the system that I realized she was selling herself to support her drug habit.

The more I tell Lennon, the easier the words flow. Turns out, I spent years biting it all back and letting it build in silence just for a bratty ass brunette to have me spilling my guts.

"Basically, she put more effort into keeping her needle full than she did into keeping me," I say. "The real fucked up thing is that I should hate her a lot more than I do, but I don't. I just hate that the drugs always won out."

Lennon nods sympathetically, fingers absently tracing the tattoos on my forearm.

"It's why I'm still paying for this place," I say, blowing out a shaky breath. “I stayed here for a while before I moved to the clubhouse. But I just couldn’t sell it.” My throat starts to constrict as I continue.

"Just because it was easy for her to leave me behind, doesn't mean I could let go just as easily. "

Lennon doesn't say anything as she twists around to look at me.

There's no 'I'm sorry" as the water laps against us while she moves to straddle my waist, her knees bracketing my hips, forcing my legs together.

There's no pity in her eyes, either. She doesn't look at me like I'm broken, she just crushes her lips against mine.

Her hands seize my face, fingers digging in as our mouths fuse with frantic hunger.

The kiss is rough and demanding, like she's trying to mend the twisted wreckage in both of us without saying a damn word.

Every emotion we've forced down, each mirrored experience, is poured into this one, single kiss.

But it's not enough. I want more– fuck, I need more. My body desperately craves the physical connection that sets my heart a blaze.

Grabbing her hips, I roll my own and grind my hard length into her core. She moans against my lips, breath coming out in stilted pants as she looks at me with eyes half-lidded.

I reach down, lining the head of my dick up with her entrance and pushing inside. Her head falls forward as I start to move, a soft moan spilling from her lips. I draw back, thrusting in harder, her inner walls gripping me tighter with each stroke.

Banding my arms around her, I pull her naked form flush against me.

Water sloshes over the edge of the tub, slapping against the tile as I punch in and out of her, our slick bodies sliding together in frenzied need.

Her fingernails scrape against my wet skin, moans vibrating from her chest with each thrust.

A tingle starts at the base of my spine, pressure pulsing in my shaft as my orgasm builds.

In one swift motion, I pivot my hips, twisting our bodies around so Lennon is beneath me.

The water ripples around us, lapping up around her neck and teasing her face.

I brace my tattooed forearm on the back of the tub by the wall and bottom out inside her.

Her mouth hinges open, tits swaying in the water with each brutal thrust. The water washes across her features, threatening to drown her as I work towards my release.

"Oh, Nix," she moans, palms slapping against my chest.

I move my free hand between us, her body jolting as I pinch her clit, rolling the sensitive bundle between my fingers as I force her body to tremble at my touch.

"Oh, fuck," she pants. "Harder Nix, Harder," she begs.

The water rises, rushing over her face. She sputters, choking on strangled gasps as the water fills her mouth and nose.

If I were a gentleman, I would stop and let her catch her breath right about now, but each cough makes her clench tighter and I’m anything but nice.

I pick up my pace, rutting into her relentlessly, her inner walls gripping me like damn vice as her orgasm slams into her and I yank her above the surface just in time for her to cry out in ecstasy.

Her body trembles as my balls tighten, sparks and tingles coursing through my veins as I follow her into weightless bliss.