Angela runs a thumb over the blade of the recently cleaned knife, testing the edges for sharpness before shoving it back in its sheath and surveying their handiwork appraisingly. "Well, I think that'll do it," she says before looking up at Tate for his opinion.
As she has thought he would, he hefts his shotgun and looks around the room. "I dunno, maybe we should…"
"…save some ammo? Let's go, I'm hungry."
"Tate," she warns in a no-nonsense voice that makes him frown and click the safety back on his gun. He looks so like a little boy told 'no' that she hides her smile from him and walks to the car, putting a subtle swing in her hips that she knows will make his imagination run wild – she'd made it clear when they were first paired together in Houston that she didn't mess around on the job and any overtures would be met with painful retaliation. But when the job is done, that's a different story altogether, she thinks, glancing back to see him watching. She wouldn't mind to take him for a test drive – he's a bit younger than she usually likes, but there's something about him that draws her. At least he's learned to stop the crude comments that seemed to spill out whenever he drew breath.
He's a young hothead who seems to have more muscles than sense, but there's no denying that he fills out a pair of jeans quite nicely. Everything about him says 'dumb and pretty', but she's not in the mood for polite conversation, so it doesn't matter. "You wanna drive?" he asks cautiously, apparently having remembered that she has several knives strapped on her body and is proficient in their use.
They've reached the car, so she does what she's wanted to do for days and turns to cup him through his jeans. "No, you can drive if you want." Tate sucks in a startled breath as she squeezes slightly before walking around to slide into the passenger seat of the battered old station wagon. "We passed a diner ten miles back, let's go there."
"Huh?" Tate's face is a mask of confused lust, and she leans over to whisper exactly what she plans to do to him if he'll only shut his mouth, start the car, and take her out to dinner.
He starts the car.
Tate is still cautious enough of her skill not to press the issue as they eat but she sees the look in his eyes as he stares at her, hungrier for her than the food. Back in the car, he starts to pop his gum again as he waits for her directions and she lets him stew a bit before giving him the address of a motel on the outskirts of Houston. "We just passed one," he protests.
She runs a perfectly manicured fingernail down the side of his face lightly. "But I want to go to this one," she murmurs before unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning over to unzip his jeans. "It takes longer to reach it."
"Yes ma'am," Tate gasps as she pulls him out.
"Keep your eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel," she admonishes as she inspects him – he's already fully erect and straining in her grip, and he's all she's thought he would be; long, thick, and cut. Tate groans as she pinches the tip of his cock, teasing out a drop of clear fluid before she licks it up with a flick of her tongue. Her father would have an absolute fit when he finds out what she was doing on this job, and he will find out eventually no matter what she does, so she resolves to enjoy herself while she still can. She'll deal with him later. Right now it's far more fun to suck Tate's cock while he struggles to keep the car on the road, biting back his groans as she swallows his length repeatedly.
Tate grunts as she takes him deep before she pulls back to swirl her pierced tongue over his glans, rubbing the round metal stud back and forth across the sensitive tip until he's bucking his hips wildly and one hand has left the steering wheel to tangle in her hair. "Fuck, I'm gonna…!"
The click of a switchblade opening and the feel of a cold steel point against his balls has a remarkable calming effect on the young thug and he quiets instantly, hand going obediently back to the wheel. "Good boy," she murmurs, returning to bobbing her head up and down over him. She teases him with her lips and tongue until he shakily informs her that they've reached their destination, then rewards him by closing the switchblade against his inner thigh and sucking harder until he comes with a yell, flooding her mouth with his hot, salty-sour come as he slams on the brakes inside the parking lot of the motel. Angela draws up from him slowly, stroking a finger across his lips and waiting for his eyes to re-open. When they do, she admires how blue they are, how dazed she has made him. "Did you like that?" she whispers.
"Y-yeah," he stutters helplessly, staring into her eyes as if she is the most wonderful thing he has ever seen.
"Good," she answers, amused. "Now I want you to go get us a room and when you come back with the key, you're going to fuck me. Will that be a problem?"
He vacates the car as if teleported out, tucking himself back in his jeans with a quick, "No, ma'am," that makes her laugh, stretching in anticipation. Once he returns with the key, she allows him control over their coupling and digs her nails into his back as he shoves himself deep inside her with a satisfied sigh. "Wanted to fuck you ever since I saw you back in Houston," he grunts, whispering several spectacularly filthy things in her ear as he thrusts in and out hard enough to make the bed shake.
Angela grips his arms and tries to hang on as Tate lets loose on her, her eyes nearly rolling back into her head as he pulls out and rubs his fingers over her clitoris until she climaxes with an inarticulate scream. Tate rolls her to her stomach and mounts her again, riding hard until he shoves deep inside her core and groans out his own orgasm. After she reaches back to slap at his sides, he moves off of her onto the faded coverlet, breathing deeply. "What's your first name?" she asks curiously, rolling onto her side and running her fingertips over his stomach.
He opens one eye. "Why you wanna know?"
"Because screaming out your last name just isn't the same," she laughs, moving closer to kiss him. She's surprised at how skilled he is at it, and lets him pull her into his arms as he explores her mouth with his. "Now, see how much better we're getting along?" Angela teases. Their first meeting had been a tense one, with threats on both sides and so much posturing it was unbelievable. "I like you better when you're naked and mostly quiet." She nips at his lower lip, running a hand down his back to squeeze his ass. "You can call me Angela, if you want."
Tate looks slightly uncomfortable now that it is his turn to divulge his name, and she learns why he likes to be called by his last name when he tells her. "I'm…Francis," he says sheepishly.
"Yeah. I hate it."
Angela blinks up at him. "Well, I can certainly guess why you like killing things so much, with a name like that. Don't tell me that your middle name is something like 'Sue'…"
"Shit, that might even be worse! Think my momma was on drugs when she named me… I got stuck with Francis Eugene."
"Oh." She rubs a hand down between his legs, where she can feel that he is reviving rather quickly. "You're too big a boy to have the name Francis," she purrs at him, squeezing and pulling until he is shoving his thick cock against her hand wildly. "You're more of a Frankie, perhaps." After making him roll onto his back, she straddles him and lifts one of her knives from the bedside table. "Want to play with me, Frankie?"
Tate nods eagerly. "Hell, yeah."
Angela runs the blade over his muscular chest, pressing just enough to leave a pattern of thin scratches down his stomach as she rubs her core against his rampant shaft. He sucks in a deep breath as she takes him in one hand, sliding the flat of the blade over the head of his cock slowly – he's plainly not sure what to make of it; whether he should be frightened or aroused by the cold steel running over his tip. She likes the power it gives her, having him shuddering below her as she works on him slowly… she pumps her fist slowly as she moves the knife, noting in satisfaction that the covers are gripped tightly in his hands so she lifts the knife and inspects it. The pre-cum she has teased out of him is smeared on the steel and she mounts him as she licks the blade clean, moving up and down slowly as he lifts his hands to palm her breasts.
The blade returns to scratching his skin, and Angela lifts off him just enough to resituate herself so that she faces the other direction, giving him a view that she has found most men will never complain about. Tate's hands settle on her hips to help her move up and down as she runs the edge across the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, spanking the flat of the blade against his balls just hard enough to make him groan. Angela works herself to orgasm steadily, resting her hands on his legs to give her enough leverage – when she arches her back and cries out, clenching around him tightly enough to pull him over the edge, she reaches for the knife again as soon as her vision clears.
He's still bucking up into her, yelling out her name, and she places a small cut high on the inside of one thigh – it should scar quite nicely. "Hey, what the fuck was that?" he snarls, shoving her off and touching his fingers to the cut. "What the…?"
She laughs throatily, sitting up and brushing her hair from her eyes. "Dogs piss on fire hydrants to mark their territory, don't they? I didn't think you'd appreciate being peed on."
Tate sits up, holding a section of wadded-up sheet to the inside of his leg, but she can see that he's not actually angry at her anymore. "What, you did that so it shows that you own me now or somethin'?" he asks, still sounding a bit surly.
"Something like that. We should get going," she points out, standing to stretch before she goes into the bathroom for a shower. Tate follows her hesitantly, the mark still sore, and she gains his forgiveness by washing him and going to her knees to give him head once more. He fucks her with his fingers when she bends over to catch up her discarded clothing, so it is again a while before they get around to dressing. "I think you might be sent off on a job with my father next month," she says as she slides her glasses back on her face and scrapes her hair back into its severe bun.
He pulls back on his tight jeans and the shirt that seems four sizes too small for his massive chest. "Your father? Didn't know it was some family thing," he grins before thinking it over. "Well, he ain't gonna be mad 'cause we fucked, is he?" He pulls out a stick of lint-covered gum from a jacket pocket and pops it in his mouth, chewing loudly.
"He might be; who knows? Just don't annoy him too much."
Tate snaps the gum loudly. "Like how?"
Angela Cohen shakes her head and looks out the window as she hears the splash of someone diving into the swimming pool outside their room. "Never mind – let's go. We still have the other jobs to finish by Monday."
She has the opportunity to add four more marks to the first one by the time they reach headquarters.
Sorry for the silly title - Guinny and I were discussing it and it was either this or "On the Job, Off the Clock, and Double-Edged" or even "The Whetstone of Desire." After lol-ing, I picked this one. XD