#oh help

You hadn’t wanted to take the job. God, you couldn't stress how badly you didn’t want to take the job.

You were no stranger to who Shannon’s young protégée was. You’d seen him on more than one occasion when you went to the garage to conduct business deals on behalf of Nino; cars, parts, and other very illegal forms of contraband.

The tall, blonde, stoic man always kept to himself when you were there, bent over in the yawning recesses of a different car every time. Broad back turned to you, his dirty white shirt clinging to toned muscles as he rooted around under the hood.

Only once had you managed to meet his eyes, and the piercing blue irises that were always so full of unbridled violence had always sent a chill down your spine.

But, when Nino orders a hit, you don’t disobey. Unless you want to be the next one in the ground, laying with the worms.

So here you were, crouched outside on a metal fire escape in the dead of the night while the city below you went on, never sleeping.

The metal creaked dangerously beneath your weight, and you shifted on the balls of your feet. This building was falling apart, much like everything else in the city. In front of you, through the darkened glass, the apartment beyond was draped in shadows, obscuring all within.

You’d cased the building earlier that day, pretending to be another drunk straggler like all the other vermin that lived in the building. Just another lowlife trying desperately to find their way back to a bed to sleep off a drug or alcohol induced haze. You were certain this was the correct unit; after all, you were good at what you did.

There was a reason Nino entrusted the job to you.

You slinked toward the closed window like a cat, your dark clothing blending into the dark brick, and palmed the knife strapped to your thigh. Quiet as a mouse, you unlatched the window and slid it open smoothly, pleased that it made no noise. Then, you slithered through the opening, landing on the pads of your feet.

You turn to shut the window, then think twice. Better to leave it open in case a quick escape is needed. You were, at the end of the day, dealing with a dangerous predator.

But not more dangerous than you.

The dark apartment smelled faintly like oil, leather, and some kind of woodsy cologne. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could make out a small couch, dining table only big enough for two, a kitchenette, and a small hallway leading further back into the unit.

The place feels abandoned.

You know better than to hope so, however.

Standing up to your full height, you move down the hallway, passing a small bathroom that’s dark. Only one place left that your quarry could be.

The bedroom door is already open, much to your relief. You almost scoff.

A man as wanted by Nino as he was, and he didn’t at least lock his bedroom door when sleeping?

You peer into the shadows, squinting as you scan the room. Too late do you realize the queen size bed is empty, blankets pulled up. They’re only slightly ruffled, as if whoever lay on them hadn’t bothered to slip beneath the sheets. Your knuckles whiten as they tighten around the knife clenched in your fist.

Suddenly, a hand is around your throat, having snaked out from behind. You’re slammed against the bedroom wall, head aching with the impact against the cheap paint. The hand is replaced by a large forearm as it pins you to the surface. Through the shadows, you can see the figure towering over you is holding a hammer aloft, the blunt end hovering only a few inches above your eye socket.

Driver looms above you, icy blue eyes only faintly illuminated by the street lights shining through the blinds from across the room.

He’s clad in his signature white scorpion jacket that you’d seen him in the day before as you tailed him through the city streets in an attempt to memorize his patterns.

You breathe hard through your mouth and move your knife hand behind your back, saving it for a better moment to strike.

His gaze rakes down your face; not cold or angry, but calculating. Analyzing. An eerie expression of calm encompasses his features. It scares you more than if he wore a mask of rage.

Hammer still held up, ready to swing down at any moment, he speaks in a low, smooth voice. “Who sent you?”

You don’t answer, staring up at him defiantly. A muscle in your jaw ticks.

”Nino,” he confirms for you. Of course it’s Nino. Who else would it be?

You don’t move or speak, performing your own little form of stubborn rebellion by doing so.

“Why’d you take the job?”

You blink, not anticipating the question. Why hadn’t he just brought that hammer down on your skull and ended it already?

”Because saying no wasn’t an option,” you say finally. And you mean it.

Driver notices the way your eyes flicker to every possible exit in the room, the exhaustion under your eyes, the faint bruise on your cheekbone. He notices everything.

And suddenly, the hammer in his hand is lowering. You furrow your brows in confusion at this, still staring into those deep blue eyes of his. He doesn’t remove his arm from your throat, but the pressure has lessened slightly. There’s a faint thunk as the hammer falls to the floor.

He’s looking at you now with a very predatory look, and your heart races. Against your will, a deep warmth pools in your body, flowing from your chest down, down to the apex of your thighs at that look. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moves his now free hand down to your hip, fingers grazing the dark fabric of your jeans.

They dance along the hem before sliding back to the knife clenched in your fist. Gently, as if handling something fragile, he slowly wraps a large palm around your knife hand and moves it up, pinning it and the knife against the wall above you. He doesn’t look away from you once. The heat in your body flares brighter; you feel like a rabbit being pinned down by a dog.

With spine-chilling realization, you now know that you entered this apartment as the predator, but are now the prey.

With one hand pinning yours against the wall, his other one moves to replace his forearm on your throat. He doesn’t squeeze hard, but still presses. His hands are so large they almost reach all the way around your throat.

You can feel your pulse thudding painfully against his warm skin and you wait with bated breath, anticipating the cold slide of your knife into your belly.

But Driver doesn’t intend to kill you. No. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, the back.

“If you wanna tail someone, you should try harder to blend in,” he says softly, lowly. Then, his lips are on yours.

You gasp into the kiss; his lips are warm, soft, and hungry. He kisses you like a man starved, tilting his towering form into yours. Your body flares as if it’s been lit on fire, and your knife hand above you slowly relaxes. The knife clatters to the floor.

Driver replaces the weapon with his own hand, lacing his fingers through yours against the paint possessively.

Every nerve within your body is buzzing. The sensation of his lips moving against yours makes your head spin. As if sensing the weakness in your knees, he moves a jean-clad thigh between your legs. The sudden contact of the denim on your core sends an electric shock up your spine, and you accidentally bite down on his bottom lip. The coppery taste of blood washes across your tongue.

You expect him to grow angry, to throw you to the side and end you, but instead he whines. Like a dog. The noise almost short circuits your brain.

Sticking your tongue out, red with blood from his now cut lip, you drag it up his neck, leaving a faint trail of crimson. He groans deep in his throat; in one smooth motion, his hands leave your neck and palm and shoot to the bottom of your thighs as he lifts you into the air. You dangle, wedged between the wall and his hard body. Your legs wrap around his slender waist, and he dives in to kiss you again, even hungrier than before.

”Think you can break into my fucking apartment without me knowing?” He snarls against your lips. Your eyes roll back into your head at the gruff tone.

His tongue slides into your mouth without permission, lapping up the coppery tang of his blood. He rolls his hips into yours and you moan at the hardness pressing through his jeans into your core.

You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were supposed to kill him; instead you were two seconds away from being fucked against the wall.

In a split second, you decided, you weren’t killing this dangerous predator. Nino could go fuck himself for all you cared.

”What are you going to do about me breaking in?” You gasped as he sucked at the soft skin on your neck, where your jaw met your ear. There was undoubtedly going to be a mark after.

He bit down and you yelped. “No talking. You’re gonna keep your mouth shut unless I tell you to speak.”

He sank to his knees fluidly for a man with such long and gangly limbs, and expertly popped the button of your jeans with one hand. His heated gaze never left yours as he slowly and tantalizingly pulled your jeans down, leaving you in your underwear. When the article of clothing reached your ankles, he gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises and stared at the soaked front of your panties.

“Up,” he commanded, and you obeyed like a loyal puppy, lifting your right leg as he pulled the jeans down and over your sneakers. He repeated the process with the other side.

You stared down at him, breathing heavily and pupils blown wide as he rubbed one long finger on your clit through the fabric covering your cunt.

”Stupid slut, you came in here to kill me and now you’re soaked. You should be ashamed.”

Normally you would’ve bristled at the words, but instead they sent a fresh wave of slickness to the apex of your thighs. You moved against his finger, desperate for friction. “Please…”

The whispered words from your pretty lips made his jaw clench; he leaned forward and mouthed at your covered clit, tongue swirling over the soaked folds. He groaned and grabbed your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. He used two fingers to pull your panties to the side and dove into your slick.

”Oh fuck,” you yelped as he lapped at you. You’d never been eaten out like this before and your body was reacting with alarming speed as your fluids began to slowly drip down your thighs.

He licked, sucked, and ate like a man on death row, moaning deeply all the while. The band in your lower belly was beginning to tighten already, threatening to snap. Just when you thought the sensations couldn’t get any more overwhelming, two of his long fingers were entering you. Between the sounds of his mouth, fingers, and your combined groans, the noise in the room was filthy, almost embarrassingly so. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this good.

You clenched around his fingers and he began to palm himself through his jeans with one. hand, thrusting up into the air. The sight sent you over that cliff edge and you cried out as you came all over his face.

He didn’t even give you time to recover. As you struggled to come down from your high, he was standing and undoing his belt buckle; it clinked in the room as you gasped. Not even bothering to pull down his pants, he freed himself from his briefs. Your eyes went wide.

He was long with a thick vein pulsing on the side of his shaft. It curved slightly to the left as it stood straight out, the tip angry and red and leaking precum.

He grabbed your jaw in one hand and kissed you hard; you could taste yourself on his lips. “I’m going to fuck you against this wall now, and I better not hear silence while I do it.”

You whined at his words and moved your hips eagerly, desperate for something. Anything.

He picked you up again without any effort and your legs immediately locked around his waist again. You nearly sobbed as the tip of his cock brushed your entrance.

Without even needing guidance, he pushed up into you, grunting with each inch. You felt a brief pinch of pain as your body stretched to accommodate his length before it faded to pure bliss. When he was fully seated inside, he groaned weakly and dropped his face against your neck; his forehead was slick with sweat.

He began to move slowly, almost teasing, lips against your ear. You gasped with each thrust, stars bursting behind your eyes.

“When this is over,” he grunted into your ear, speeding up, “You’re not going to go back to Nino. You don’t belong to him anymore.”

You cried out as his balls smacked against your ass; the room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin mingled with wet slaps.

He rutted up into you even harder, possessively. “I’m going to kill Nino. Then you and I are gonna get the fuck out of this city.”

The tip of his cock was hitting that spongy part of you perfectly and you could feel the edge of the cliff nearing. You wrapped your arms around his neck and fisted his hair as your body jolted up against the wall with each thrust.

He moved his head back to look directly into your eyes. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“You understand?” He breathed in that calm voice.

”Yes, yes,” you cried out, absolutely fucked out of your mind with bliss. “I’m yours now. I’m yours.”

At your words, his hips stuttered and he groaned through gritted teeth. As his warm essence pumped into you, you tumbled over the edge with him.

You both moaned loudly, certain the neighbors would hear. He thrust a few more times, milking himself on you, and you jolted with the overstimulation.

He gently set you down on your feet and pulled out with a wet squelch. He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard. You stared up into his eyes, the irises almost completely swelled by his pupils. He gripped both your hips tightly.

“What happens now?” You gasped.

Driver looked at you for a long moment. He lifted one hand to brush a strand of sweat-soaked hair from your cheek. “Don’t answer your phone.”

He stepped back slowly, gaze never leaving yours.

“Nino is done.”