Tia Louise's Blog: ONE TO BLOG - Posts Tagged "secondchance"

HIT GIRL
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2018

Molly

Large hands grip my neck, and I place my palms together in a praying motion. Faster than a blink, I shove them up and through his arms, spinning my body as I go.

His hands fly off me, and I'm behind him now, one hand bracing the back of his head, one hand gripping his throat. My fingernails cut into the flesh around his Adam's apple, and I stop short of ripping through the skin.

"Tear out the larynx," I say, flattening my palm against Stas's neck and stepping back, shoulders straight.

He turns and faces me, three inches between us. His hands move so fast, I almost miss his fist swinging for my head.

But I don't miss it.

My arm goes up, and I block his move, using the momentum of his swing to power the rotation of my body as I drop my hands to the ground and kick my leg in a sweeping motion toward his face.

It's a roundhouse kick to the head, but I bend my knee and don't make contact. I follow through with the motion until I'm sitting on my butt on the beach.

"That blow would break your attacker's neck." Stas nods, a satisfied expression on his stern face. "You are little, but you are powerful, Myshka. Unless your attacker shoots first, you will not be conquered again."

We've trained here every day for six weeks, and the lines in my arms and stomach are proof of how strong my body has become. I'm fourteen now, and I'm a master of the open hand strike, the outside defense, the roundhouse kick, and several basic Jiu-Jitsu moves.

I know how to stay calm when I'm cornered and how to use my attacker's energy to strengthen my own strikes. I know how to walk away, how to sit and meditate, how to refocus my energy so the negative chi of my attacker doesn't enter my psyche.

We've worked on all these things, drilling day after day, until the horrors of my last year have morphed into steps along the path of my journey rather than boulders raining down on my head.

"Meditate. Refocus your mind." He steps back, and I know this is the sign he's leaving me for the day.

I also know he's leaving the villa and returning to the Ukraine at the end of the week. It's possible in only a few more days we might never see each other again.

"Stas?" I step forward quickly, my eyes growing hot.

He pauses and studies my face, but doesn't speak.

I hold back the tears. "What does Myshka mean?"

His shoulders relax and that microscopic smile appears. "It means mouse. What are you thinking little mouse?"

"Last night when I slept, the men were back. They were around me like always, but I didn't fear them. I didn't wake up screaming. I didn't run away."

"They're in the past now. You've released them. They have no power."

My stomach tightens, and something inside me rejects that response. Anger burns in my chest, just like it had when I awoke last night in the dark room alone.

A different anger.

A righteous anger.

A need for justice.

"But they're still out there."

"Yes, but you are stronger now. You've learned what I wanted to teach you."

My eyes cast down to his hands. "I want you to teach me one more thing."

His head tilts to the side. "What is that?"

"Teach me to kill."

* * *
LIVE March 19~

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HIT GIRL
by Tia Louise
(c) TLM Productions LLC, 2018

Molly

Mist coats my cheeks as I stand, gazing up at the high-rise hotel.

The time for check out has come and gone, and I imagine housekeeping entering the space I meticulously cleaned and then quietly exited last night…

It’s possible they won’t understand right away that Dennis Langley, the former occupant of Room 1021, is dead.

Then again, it looks like they do.

Two police cruisers speed up silently like great white sharks and park around the corner.

I’m across the street, and I step farther back, passing through the foot traffic on the busy city sidewalk to a courtyard with a pop-up Starbucks. A few burned-out hippies are asleep on benches.

Are they called hippies now? They have faded dreadlocks and Goodwill clothes, but they’re not much older than I am.

By contrast, I’m wearing tight black pants, flats, and a beige trench coat over a black turtleneck. An unnecessary pair of dark shades is over my eyes on this overcast day, but I don’t remove them.

A man I recognize steps out of the building and pauses at the entrance to speak to two uniformed officers. His name is Hendricks; he’s the police chief. He was on the scene the night Lara shot Gavin.

Gavin ran an underground sex club specializing in fetishes, including sex with minors. It was where I first encountered Dennis in that room below the tattoo parlor.

When that party was raided, I ran after the leader. I was determined to kill him, but Gavin was too big and too strong for me. He saw me coming, and he knew what I intended to do to him.

He held me by the neck against the wall of his office, and for the first time in my life, I was certain I was going to die.

Joshua tried to save me, but Gavin knocked him out cold. Gavin hit him so hard that even as the heat burned my eyes and I felt my life slipping away, I worried Joshua would die too.

My heart broke…

Then a gunshot sounded.

As if drawn by the magnetism of my gaze, Chief Hendricks looks across the street directly at me.

It’s impossible he recognizes me, but he doesn’t look away. He returns my stare, and I hear the words of my mentor, Courage, above all things, is the first quality of the warrior.

I’m not backing down. For several seconds, I feel proud. I’m glad Hendricks is the one on the scene, because the minute he runs a background check, he’ll learn Dennis Langley was a known pedophile and child pornographer.

That’s right, Hendricks. I did what you couldn’t do.

And just like that, like the tide returning to shore, caution pushes me to fade into the background, disappear without a trace.

Not that I’m afraid to go to jail. I feel confident I could survive jail. It’s not that… It’s this weakness I’ve developed in the past year.

It’s Joshua.

My jaw clenches, and I fight the notion the way I do every time it tries to come up. I cannot be in love with Joshua.

I cannot be in love with anyone.

Still… it’s impossible to deny how my body, my heart, and my soul long for him. When he smiles, it curls the tips of my toes, happiness expands in my chest.

Lowering my face, I turn away from the scene of my crime. I put my hands in my pockets and walk with purpose away from here...

* * *
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EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
HIT GIRL
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2018

Molly

“Joshua?” My eyes widen, and his lips curl with a smile.

The horned mask still covers his face, but I recognize his gray eyes burning with lust from behind the brown fur.

“Yes.” The word escapes on a hot breath.

Fear and panic melt quickly into desire, and I let him pull me to the dark hallway, deeper into the recesses of the building. I’m hot and my panties grow wetter as he leads me through a narrow door into an empty courtyard with a fountain.

It’s dark, and even with the loud, hypnotic drums we can hear the constant trickle of water. It’s overwhelmed by the sound of our pants, my moans as he kisses me, our mouths colliding, his tongue finding mine.

“Joshua,” I whisper. “I want you…”

My heart is flying in my chest, and I’m about to beg when he turns me at once, ripping my skirt over my ass and tearing my thong aside with a low growl.

“Yes!” I grip the lattice wall in front of me and arch my back for him to enter.

His heat was at my back and I strain for his lips. He steps closer, pushing my thighs apart, the fine hair on his legs tickling my sensitive skin.

“Oh, God.” My voice trembles at the sensation.

His kiss is consuming, demanding, and with a hard thrust, he drives his cock into my wet heat, lifting me onto my toes. Our mouths break apart as we moan loudly.

We’re completely hidden in a cove of wisteria, and he fucks me hard. His chest is against my back and he bites and sucks at my neck. My nipples are tight, and I want this. I want him to take me, own me.

The drums grow louder, more intense, fast and pulsing in time with our movements. Long fingers circle my thighs, gathering my skirt and finding the place between my legs. He caresses me, circling fast. I cry out, my body vibrating with the beat of the drums, the sharp invasion of his cock.

My hands brace against the wall, my knuckles white as I clutch the wooden slats. My entire focus is on Joshua, the noise of the drums, his fingers circling my clit, his iron rod driving deeper, harder, impaling me, claiming me.

I’m feverish as I start to come. My core muscles clench, gripping and pulling as my knees go liquid.

“Joshua,” I gasp. “Yes, yes…”

My screams are lost in the mêlée, but his hand covers my mouth. I open it, and a long finger dips inside. I suck it, and he fucks me harder. The upward motion of his thrusts are the only thing keeping me on my feet.

His body arches forward, and he growls in my ear. “Mine.” It’s possessive and primal, and I break into more spasms around him as another orgasm races through me. “Yes. You’re mine.”

Releasing the lattice, I reach behind my shoulder to hold his neck. His hands slide up the inside of my shirt, palming my breasts and pulling my nipples. I come again, and I hear him groan loudly. His thighs quiver as the waves of orgasm take us both.

“Say it,” he breathes, kissing my neck, biting my skin, pulsing deep inside, filling me. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

No hesitation…

* * *

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