Hit

by Mallory Hart

Sean O’Callaghan, my boss, the kingpin of the Irish mob, and the man I only sometimes referred to as father.

I could just learn to forget and fuck the man who killed my only friend.

“And if I’m going to be married to you, I’d be a dirty liar if I said I didn’t want to take advantage of waking up to this every day.” His

“You will never do that to me again.” The words came low like a warning, heated like an alarm. I sucked in a deep breath. “Walk on thin ice?” He shook his head. “Never scare me like that again.”

“I called off Chicago because I didn’t want to leave you. I thought you were going to die, and it was fecking terrifying, so I stayed.”

“This won’t be like the other nights. I won’t eat you out and stop. If you let me do this, you’re not coming from my mouth. I’m going to fuck you. Then, I’m going to take you home and fuck you again. And again. And again.”

“Don’t even think about coming yet. I’ll be buried deep inside you when you break.”

“I wanted you to promise me you’ll never scare me like that again. That you’ll stay safe.”

“And for the second part, promise me this is a real marriage, that you’re really my wife. That you’ll never leave, and I get to do this to you every day for the rest of my life.”

“You’re gonna watch. I want you to see every dirty thing I’m about to do to you.”