Hunter
HUNTER
T he heels of Rosalind's boots clicked against the floor of the restaurant. I’d bought it out just for tonight. She was all dolled up in a short black dress that clung to her curves. Shit , she was a sight—her hair perfectly curled, some smokey black makeup around her eyes. My tux felt too tight as my dick got hard. I shoulda fucked her before we got here. Yeah , Marco got her last night, bastard, but tonight, I was wining and dining my bride. A traditional date.
The waitress led us to our spot. Especially requested by me. The secluded corner table was set for two, draped in white cloth, set with fancy utensils and plates .
" Sit ," I ordered, taking her coat with a tug. It fell away and I pulled out her chair, draping it behind her.
Rosalind slid into the chair, the shadows playing over her face, turning her dark eyes into pools of something wild, untamed. There was a challenge there, and fuck if it didn't make my blood sing. Tonight , she'd learn that I can be a gentleman.
I watched the parade of dishes, each one a fucking masterpiece that cost more than the average thug made in a month. But I was no thug. Rosalind's eyes were wide, taking it all in like she'd never seen such decadence. She had, of course—she was mafia-born and bred—but I wasn't just any mobster, and this wasn't just any spread. It was power on a platter, and she was dining at my table.
I pushed a forkful of truffle-laden pasta her way. The look she gave me was pure joy.
" Every bite's like a sin," she replied, her lips curling into a smile.
My hand found its way to her knee under the table, a slow drag of fingers against smooth skin. Rosalind sucked in a breath, almost imperceptible, but I caught it. Every little hitch, every goddamn tremor that ran through her— I wanted it all.
" Shit , Rosalind ," I muttered, watching as her eyes glazed over as she frantically searched the restaurant for anyone watching, "you're like a damn deer in the headlights, aren't you? All beautifully done up. But I bet you like the thrill. Admit it."
She shifted in her seat, trying to pull off unaffected, but I felt the truth. My hand crept higher, inch by fucking inch, and those shivers racking her body weren't from the cold.
" Hard to enjoy your meal?" I asked, my voice low, feeling her muscles tense under my palm. Knowing I could unravel her with a touch and reduce her to needs and wants, it was a delicious sort of power.
" Quite the opposite," she managed, her voice steady, but her body betrayed her, heat radiating from where my hand lay claim. " It's ... exquisite."
I slid my fingers into her pussy as she shifted, a sly grin tugging at my lips. Rosalind's breath caught, and she widened her legs. Soaked . And she wasn’t wearing panties. Damn , she was all kinds of perfect.
Her cheeks flushed a shade that screamed desire, not the bashful blush of innocence. Made my blood surge, thinking how I'd paint her in darker hues before the night was over. My fingers curled, slowly pushing on that spot that would make her see stars. Her pussy clenched around me, her breathing ragged. All pretenses of caring if anyone was watching were gone .
" Fuck , you’re beautiful like this," my voice was husky. There was something about pushing her boundaries, pressing until she bent but didn't break, that had my heart hammering against my ribcage like a caged beast.
My hand moved with intent, rough and demanding, with no pretense of gentleness. My pants caged my cock, and I knew I’d need to fuck her senseless soon. This was a game of patience, showing her that I could give without expectation.
" Spread more for me," I growled into her ear. The pressure of my fingers increased, insistent, edging her towards that precipice. Her gasp was louder, and the waitress who was coming our way heard it and turned before rushing back to the kitchen. I smiled. That’s right, don’t interrupt my woman’s pleasure.
" Good girl," I praised, her legs starting to tremble, her knuckles white where she gripped the table. A flush spread over her chest. She was close.
And as her body clenched around my invading fingers, I fell more in love with her. She gave herself to me, trusting me, despite the fact that once upon a time, I’d taken without care. She still gave herself, willingly, eagerly, to please me.
I watched her, the way she bit down on that luscious lip to keep from crying out. The tablecloth was a poor shield for the sin we were committing right under it, but fuck if I cared. My hand worked her, relentless, fingers slick with her, and every arch of her back was a silent scream I devoured.
Her breaths came out ragged, heat radiating from where my fingers were buried deep inside her. Shit , the pleasure etched on her face was enough to make any man spill his seed, but I was made of sterner stuff. But just as she was about to come, I pulled back, leaving her gasping, fucking breathless.
I pulled my hand out slowly and smirked. Her dark eyes flew open, locking onto mine with that wild, untamed look—that silent promise of 'more, give me more.' It was a vow I intended to fulfill, but not here, not now. She groaned before reaching down, grabbing my hand, and forcing me back inside her. All she needed was a flick, and she came undone, her juice spilling down her thighs and pooling against her dress. She sighed and licked her lips, watching as I pulled my fingers to my tongue and sucked them off.
We sat there, the aftermath of our little play simmering in the air. The taste of her lingered on my fingers; the scent of her arousal mingled with the rich aromas of the decadent food untouched before us. We didn't need that shit. We were drunk on something far more potent—power, control, unbridled fucking desire.
And as I leaned back, watching her come down from that high, I knew. She was made for this life, for me. The underworld's princess, soon to be its fucking queen.
I yanked her up from the velvet chair, our chairs scraping loudly. Fuck the half-eaten luxury on our plates; I craved something raw, something that bled and writhed beneath me. Rosalind , with that wildfire in her eyes, was the goddamn meal I starved for.
" Time to go," I threw a few hundreds on the table. We tore through the empty restaurant. I half-dragged her outside.
The crisp night air hit us, and I shoved her against the black SUV that waited. My hands were all over her again, claiming every inch I had left, burning for more back there. Her back slammed against the car door, and a gasp escaped those lush lips.
" Get in," I commanded, shoving the door open. She stumbled inside, and I followed, almost smashing my head against the roof. The door slammed shut, our own goddamn world now sealed away from prying eyes.
I pinned her down, my body an iron weight pressing her into the leather seat. My mouth crashed onto hers, all teeth and tongue and savage need. She tasted like sin and promise, and I drank it down like the thirsty bastard I was.
Her fingers clawed at my back, pulling me closer, deeper as if she could merge our damned souls right there in the backseat. Heat coiled tight in my gut as I devoured her whimpers, the sound fueling the fire that raged within me. I needed her so goddamn badly.
" Mine ," I seethed between kisses, branding her with the word, with my lips, with the grip that would leave marks she'd feel days later. Her body arched under mine as her hands fumbled with my zip. Pushing them aside, I undid it, freeing my painfully hard cock. I pushed her dress up to her hips and slammed inside her, loving how wet she felt as she easily accepted me.
The leather creaked beneath us, the car a cage of carnal sin, as I slammed her down onto the seat. Sweat slicked my skin, the heat from our bodies fogging the goddamn windows, blurring the outside world.
She writhed under me, trying to arch to make more contact, even through layers of clothing. My hands roamed over the curves that the black dress had teased at all evening.
I let a string of expletives out as she bucked against me, her hips grinding in perfect sync with mine. The scent of her arousal mixed with mine filled the car, making it hard to ignore how badly I wanted her. Needed her.
" Harder ," she gasped, her voice laced with the kind of darkness that matched my soul.
I obliged, my thrusts growing more urgent, the sound of our bodies slamming together drowned out only by our moans and our desperate pants for air. Her dark eyes locked on mine, desire within their depths. I saw the flames there, stoked by each movement, each moment of fucking friction.
Her inner walls clenched around me, pulling me deeper into the abyss of pleasure. She was the daughter of my enemy, the bright light to my darkness, my bride. But at this moment, she was nothing but mine, body and soul.
" Rosalind ," I hissed, her name a curse and a benediction on my lips as we spiraled toward that edge. The car shuddered with the force of our movements, a small space for the vastness of the storm we created.
" Fuck , !" she cried out, and the sound pierced through the haze, driving me to the brink. With one final thrust, I buried myself deep as we shattered, our release tearing through us with the ferocity of a bullet.
" Shit ," I panted, the aftershocks of our ecstasy still vibrating through my veins. “ That was… you are… ”
" Yours ," she whispered, her voice ragged and beautiful in its surrender. And at that moment, despite the darkness that clung to my bones, despite the blood on my hands and the ink on my skin, I knew that this woman, this force of nature, had somehow become the pulse in my goddamn chest.
Breathless , fuckin' spent, I slumped back against the leather of the seat, Rosalind wrapped around me. Her head rested on my chest, the rise and fall of her breathing syncing with the slowing throb in my veins.
The taste of her lingered on my tongue, mixed with the metallic tang of adrenaline. I brushed a curl from her face, fingers trailing down her cheek. The contrast wasn't lost on me, the way my bloodstained hand looked against her beauty. The counter-point anchoring me here. To earth.
Her eyes met mine, dark pools reflecting a man who took what he wanted, consequences be damned. But in their depths, I saw more than the reflection of a monster. I saw a hunger that mirrored my own, a shared craving for the fire we stoked within each other.
She’d changed me. Made me a better man. One that would fight until the death for her, but one that also reconnected with the feelings I’d had to hide for so long. She saved me, and in that salvation, I’d finally found my match.
My Queen .