~Author's Note: This will be the start of a series focusing on our hero, provided you like it enough to give it good reviews. I live off of feedback, praise and constructive criticism, so if you enjoy the story please let me know via comments. Even if you didn't, let me know why not. I appreciate any and all comments, but please be kind and use proper grammar. I write in my spare time, and I like to think that I do a good job of it, but this is my first attempt at erotic fiction. If enough positive feedback arises from this submission, there will be more, both in this storyline and others, I promise.
With that, I'll let you get to reading. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!~
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"Just stay still, and I won't have to hurt you!" Damnit, this woman wiggled more than that trophy bass I caught last year. If she'd just keep still, I'd-
"Ungh!" I winced, my eyebrows furrowing as my face turned sour. Oh, it was on now. The little bitch had somehow managed to twist around just enough to bring her knee up into my crotch. Luckily for my future children's, well, future, I'd caught her just in time to turn myself away a bit and not catch the full force of her blow. But she was going to regret that one. I adjusted my grip around her waist, my arms still holding hers firmly to her sides, and managed to get one of my arms free without freeing hers.
I reached across with my now mobile right hand and grabbed her left breast firmly, squeezing hard, until she stopped moving and squealed in pain. She hammed it up a bit, I thought. I leaned in a little closer to whisper in her ear, remembering the name on her ID tag, "Now then, Tiphanie, I'm going to say this once, and only once; keep still or you will get hurt."
Now, I hadn't been raised to hurt women, and I wasn't about to seriously harm her, but she sure as hell didn't have to know that. I tried to sound as cold and heartless as I could. It must have worked, because as I relaxed my grip on what I began to notice was a very well-formed and firm breast, she stayed motionless, with only a quiet whimper. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was a little bit aroused. I know I was.
Now that I had her calmed down a bit, I began to wonder just how I was going to get out of this pickle. Who would have thought I, Jack Rastle, who had never blown a job in fifteen years, would be holed up in a gas station with the cashier girl for a hostage, trying to figure out how the hell to get out alive and free. I didn't have much time to think, though, because as soon as the girl noticed that I wasn't paying as much attention to her anymore, she headbutted me in the mouth. Or tried to, as I jerked my head back and tightened my grip on her breast again when I felt her start to move.
With a frustrated whimper, she slumped a bit in my arms, but I didn't relax my grip on her breast this time, and instead started almost absentmindedly kneading the soft yet firm flesh. The girl moaned despondently, but then, as if remembering something, started struggling again. I squeezed harder, but to no avail. Damnit, she was strong, too. Quickly moving my hand from her tempting flesh, I grabbed her right wrist and twisted it around and up behind her back, pinning it between us. I lowered my voice to the most menacing growl I could muster.
"I said stop it. This is your last warning."
"Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" With that she broke down into wordless shouted curses, sobs wracking her light frame. I couldn't decide whether it was real or just her trying to fake me out, though, so I kept her wrist in a firm grip. Against my better judgment, my other hand wandered off her hip and down to her thigh, still pinning her left arm to her side. I started to gently caress her leg through her tight-fitting blue jeans, eliciting a hiccup-like sound from her that was halfway between a curse and a moan.
I kept up my gentle massage of her thigh, applying a bit more pressure now. Then I realized what I was doing, and shook myself mentally. Bad Jack. Supposed to be thinking of a way out of this, not a way into her. I looked around the back room we were ensconced in, or rather holed up in, and satisfied myself that there was nothing she could use to attack me with if I let her go, and no way for her to get to the door without me catching her. I leaned back in to speak in a slightly gentler tone into her hair.
"I'm going to let you go now, but if you try to pull anything, you're only going to get yourself hurt. See that chair there? I want you to go and sit in it, and stay there. Understand?"
She nodded, her sobs quieting. I was wary, but I released her, slowly. She turned to face me first, and stared into my eyes for a moment, or at least at my face, her eyes were hidden by her wild mane of auburn hair. I tried to look mean, but I probably failed miserably. My mother always said I had kind eyes. My girlfriends always said it was the long eyelashes, and hidden under them were hungry, sexual eyes, but then I always had horny girlfriends. That's why I picked them.
Then she punched me. Right in the mouth. I gotta give it to the girl, she had spirit. She punched me right in the mouth with a solid right hook, then turned around, walked to the chair and sat down, glaring at me as she nursed her sore knuckles. It hurt, but I took it like a man, and I couldn't help but grin at her audacity. I hid it quickly, though, and dabbed at my lips with the back of my hand, my hand coming away bloody.
I tried to hide the chuckle that welled up for no reason, but it wasn't agreeable, and almost broke free. I know I smirked a little, if not outright grinned. I mean, I had to admire the girl, she hadn't exactly pulled anything, per se; she'd punched it. And she had done what I told her to with no complaint. Besides, I deserved it. I'd have punched me too. Probably not much harder, either.
"What was that for?" Why did I even ask such a stupid question?
"Nobody grabs my tits without my permission."
Now that she was calmer, I could definitely detect that Texas accent in her voice. Not surprising, considering we were about thirty miles outside Texarcana. I didn't quite know what to make of her reply, though.
"Wait, so if I'd asked first, while your knee was getting friendly with my balls, I wouldn't have gotten punched?"
She hesitated for a moment before responding, gathering herself. "You come diving in here with a duffel bag full of money, bullets flying everywhere, grab me from behind the counter where I'm trying to enjoy my third read of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, pull me into the back before I can even take a breath, hold me like a damned hostage, and expect not to get kicked in the balls? Where the hell were you raised, Mars?!"
I swear, all I could think of for about a minute was: damn it all, she reads Douglas Adams? Call me a geek if you will, (actually don't, my gun is bigger than yours) but I'd read that series by the famous British author more times than I could count. My next words probably made her wonder if I was brain-dead as well as apparently suicidal, homicidal and maniacal.
"Wait- You read Douglas Adams?"
Sure enough, she looked at me like I was crazy. Rather, crazier than she'd already thought. Didn't say a word, just looked at me like I was the very definition of a headcase. Right. Better change the subject.
"Never mind. Do you have a cellphone?" I'd already spotted the land line, but I knew that by now that line would be covered by the FBI, if not several other agencies to boot. Fifteen years, and on a little easy job like this I get caught with my pants down. I was too good to go down like this, for crying out loud! She looked at me blankly for a minute, as if trying to remember whether she had one or not, then smirked.
"Yeah, but it's out front, in my purse."
Well, that was just perfect. I wasn't about to go back out there. They probably had a dozen snipers trained on the inside of this gas station by now, all just chomping at the bit to get a shot at the famous Jack Rastle.
"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!"
"Oh, don't be so dramatic about it. I'm sure you'd never feel a thing when the bullets burst your skull like a ripe watermelon, if you went back out there."
How nice of her, to provide me with another visual I really didn't need right now. Speaking of visuals, she sure was a vision sitting there in the low-backed office chair with her hands in her lap and her long reddish-auburn hair falling into her eyes, looking back at me with an expression that told me she was laughing at me on the inside. Hell, she was beautiful. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to kiss those full, cherry-red lips that were upturned in a smirk at my bad luck. I was going to do it, too.