The Assignment

Chapter 13

A few more practice runs turned into three more hours at the range. Joey told me about the first time he shot a pistol, having already learned how to fire a shotgun. He said he'd thought it would be really simple since he knew how to shoot one firearm. The other couldn't be that difficult, right? I burst into laughter when he told me he tried to shoot a .44 magnum and the kickback startled him so much, it knocked him on his ass.

"It's not funny!" he'd defended, laughing as well.

Joey then told me how his grandfather had told him to shoot a .44 first as a joke. He ended up learning the right way to fire a pistol with a .9mm Beretta. He told me he still has both guns in a box in his hall closet back home. They'd belonged to his grandpa who had given them to him for his eighteenth birthday.

I was impressed with my own shooting skills that had been entirely nonexistent a few hours prior. I'd managed to adjust my aim just right and my eleventh set of rounds hit the center of my target perfectly three times. I was so proud of myself. I'd jumped up and down like a cheerleader, hugging Joey and squealing when I realized I'd gotten it right in the bullseye.

When we'd walked into the range, I hadn't thought I'd be able to shoot at all - at least not any good - yet somehow I'd taken to it quickly and even impressed Joey.

Ron had congratulated me on my achievement when Joey returned the revolver to him. The last twenty minutes of our time at the range consisted of me watching Joey have his fun doing target practice. He nailed the target in the center of the bullseye almost every single time. Watching him shoot was a huge turn on. Watching him smirk in victory at his impressive aim was practically panty-melting. I also took note of the fact that the bulge in his jeans was still very, very evident.

My mouth began to water as I watched him. He reminded me of some sexy secret agent taking out the bad guys.

Memories of Joey on top of me with my legs wrapped around his waist flooded my thoughts and my breath hitched. I desperately wanted to kiss him, to bite his lip, to taste his mouth again. He was effortlessly driving my hormones crazy. I craved his touch and his kiss and the way his teeth had grazed my neck. I craved his hot breath on my skin and his fingertips teasing me.

I felt like my entire body was blushing and started fanning myself, beginning to sweat as I watched him empty the chamber. My hairline was damp and I felt like I had too many clothes on. I wanted to go stand in front of a giant industrial fan - or get naked.

"You did great today, Jess," Joey complimented as we were leaving.

My successful shooting had completely slipped my mind by then. All I could think about was Joey and how ridiculously hot he was.

"You alright, Jess?" he raised an eyebrow, opening the driver's side door. He looked fairly concerned.

"Yeah," I nodded awkwardly, trying to keep cool. "Fine."

That wasn't true. I was painfully turned on.

Joey and I slid into the vehicle and he turned the radio on. Old rock songs from the eighties came through the speakers at a low volume and one of AC/DC's hits sent a blur of images through my mind of Joey kissing, biting, and fucking me all night to the tune of You Shook Me All Night Long.

My libidinous imagination threw my hormones right to the edge of losing control and I released a sudden exaggerated breath and cranked the air up full blast.

"Hot?" Joey chuckled in amusement as we pulled out of the parking lot.

Yeah. You're hot.