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."
