Nico whistled, a sharp warning in the silence of the alleyway.
“We have to go,” he told her and pulled her up. He helped her slide the gloves over her bloodied hands and said, “We can discuss the philosophy of murder on the plane, but for now we have to make sure we get out of here.” She reached for him, pulled his head down for a savage kiss. She surprised him with the strength she had at the moment, clinging to him and inserting herself into his mouth, trying to take claim of it. He resisted, pulled her arms down and pinned them behind her back in a grim similarity to how he’d bound the dead man. He twisted them until she whimpered and gave in, allowing him to control the kiss, and her body. “I want to fuck you,” he said against her lips, “I want to plunge into you and drive my cock so far in your cunt you can’t remember your own name.” She moaned and started to pant, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She tiled herself against him, letting him know she was ready to fuck, she wanted it. Logic took over and he said, “I want to, but we can’t. We have to go.”
He pushed her away and released her hands, turned and walked away. He heard her scramble to follow him and smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to get her on the plane and fuck her after everything they’d done tonight. And he couldn’t wait to feel her struggle against him after leaving her like that. She was a wildcat, and just crazy enough to be the best he’d ever had. He wouldn’t change a thing in the world, and once again thanked fate or the gods that had brought them together.