Assassin

Luke fisted his hand in Monique’s long, auburn hair as he pulled her head back. She cried out, her fingers curling around the sheets as he drove his cock deep inside her. He fucked her so hard, so rough, it made her breasts bounce, and it made the tug of her hair nearly painful. The echoes of flesh of flesh slapping filled the room and when she began to orgasm, he pulled her hands out from under her, forced her face into the pillow as he fucked her from behind, deepening the angle. She screamed for Luke to give it to her and spanked her in response. As he neared his own release, he reached around her neck, choking off her cries as her pussy shuddered around his cock again. His cum shot out in thick, streaming ropes as he buried himself to the hilt one last time. Slowly, he pulled himself free and they collapsed next to each other on the bed, bodies flushed, sweaty, the smell of hot sex permeating the air.

Ayla watched with sheer hatred from the house next door, the decision had been made. She’d do what she’d come her to in the morning.

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His chest barely rose and fell with each breath, a sliver of light cut across the small of his back drawing the eye down to his firm ass that was barely covered by the crimson sheets. As Ayla moved silently to the side of the bed, she crouched down, her head tilted slightly to the side as she made eye contact with the target.

“You’ll… never… get away… with this.” The broken words staggered from his full lips. She reached out to comb her fingers through his hair, a gesture she used to do every morning to wake him.

“Oh, but I already have.” She watched with a bit of amusement as his shaking hand reached for the gun he hid between the bed and the night stand. Slapping his hand away she tisked, “I don’t think so, honey. You should have shot me in the back before you decided to go fucking whores when I wasn’t looking.”

“Stupid bitch!” He spat at her, coughing up blood as the poison coursed through his veins.

Ayla took the gun, the satisfaction of killing him with his own research wasn’t enough now. They’d been friends, partners, and finally lovers despite their line of work. For eight years she’d given him everything and for the last two, he’d been giving his all to someone else. Her breaking point was the night he came home oblivious to how obvious it was he’d been with another woman. She’d screamed and cursed, cried and raged, beat and then begged him with everything she had. In the end, he’d won. They’d both walked away with broken bones, but he’d won on sheer size. He’d called out to her as he kicked her out of their home, ‘stupid bitch’ and those two words stuck. She knew the gun was loaded, could tell just by the weight; she also knew the safety wouldn’t be on as she put the barrel to his temple.

“That was the wrong thing to say.”

The echo of the gunshot rang throughout the house making Monique jump downstairs in the kitchen. Her glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the tiled floor as orange juice splattered around her feet. Her eyes were wide as her ears strained to hear another sound. Swallowing hard, she called out softly. “Luke?” She began to shake with fear and after a minute of complete silence, she maneuvered her way over the broken glass towards the adjacent living room. She called out again and was greeted by more silence. Her gaze was locked on the top of the stairs and as she climbed the flight, inch by inch she prayed they wouldn’t give her position away. Her hand trembled as it glided along the railing and when she reached the landing, turning left towards the bedroom she didn’t know what to expect. The door she’d left open was now shut. As she looked behind her, she realized all the doors were shut. “Shit.” She breathed out as she padded as softly as she could towards their bedroom. As she slowly pushed the door open, the room was shrouded in darkness. “Luke?” There was no response, she could see the outline of his body in bed but he didn’t move.

She whimpered as she reached for the light switch. When the iridescent light flowed through the bedroom, it took a moment for her mind to comprehend what she was seeing. Blood, brains, fragments of flesh and bone were scattered all over the bed and wall. She screamed, and as she turned to run from the room she saw his murderer.

The dead look in Ayla’s eyes became sinister as she looked over the other woman. Whatever the girl was saying, she wasn’t hearing. Monique was probably begging, pleading for her life while she began to back into the room. As her finger squeezed the trigger, Ayla wondered if that was how she’d looked when she’d begged for Luke to love her.

It was like slow motion watching the bullet enter her skull and explode through the back. It seemed almost graceful the way her body hit the floor, her limbs splayed out as if she’d meant to fall that way. Ayla’s arm didn’t fall to her side until she was sure the ringing in her ears had stopped. Being an assassin was easy; she’d killed hundreds, most of them with the help of Luke. Killing was easy; it was the revenge and her broken heart that made this time different. As soon as it was over, she reflected on all of her mistakes. It was supposed to be simple, no evidence, and only one target. Funny how two little words had changed all of that.

Annoyed by her reaction now, she quickly made her way through the house she’d once called home and found nothing, absolutely nothing had changed. Bastard. She made her way to Luke’s lab, keyed in the code on the lock and shook her head. “For such a smart guy, you were a fucking idiot. You didn’t even change your passcodes.” Quickly, she mixed the chemicals she needed to make a bomb, leaving his gun next to the concoction. As she ran from the room leaving the door wide open, she knew she had only a minute to get out of the house before it exploded. It was more than enough time to get to her car, start the engine and watch with satisfaction as the house exploded. She shifted into gear and the mushroom-like ball of smoke rose high into the sky as she watched through her rear view mirror as she drove away.