Chapter 4
Victor
My prize doesn’t struggleas I carry her to where I want her. My bedroom. I lay her on the bed and fix her with a pointed finger. “Stay.”
She glares at me, and I pause, waiting for her rebellion with my head tilted to the side. “Unless you want me to tie you to the bed?”
She looks like she might argue but stops when I raise a hand to undo my cufflinks and toss them on a dresser. I start on my jacket and dress shirt buttons, and she leans back, drinking in each new inch of my exposed chest. I turn my head to hide a grin. I thought she might like a show.
I fucked her without undressing, too impatient to be balls deep in her. There’s something about her that brings out the beast in me. I’ve never been so swollen with need, so out of control.
There’s no need to rush. She is mine as long as I wish it. I’ve never wanted a woman past one night, but if that’s not long enough to quench my desire for her, then there’s no reason I can’t keep her longer. Indefinitely.
Forever.
I blink away the fantasy of her lying in my bed, hair unfurled on the pillow, blinking in the morning light. I don’t need to imagine her when she’s right here, naked on my bed, laid out like a sacrifice.
“Spread your legs,” I command, propping a foot on the stool at the base of my bed to untie my shoes. “Show me that pretty pussy.”
She deliberates with her chin tipped down. I remove my shoes and socks before it’s clear she’s not going to obey.
Excellent.
“What, shy?” I drawl. “You came hard enough on my knife not so long ago. And again on my cock.”
Her nostrils flare as she visibly bites back a response. I make quick work of the rest of my clothes and stalk to the bed. My shadow falls over her, but she doesn’t flinch. She raises her chin to challenge me, and I grip it in my palm. Her eyes are dark with desire. “Are you going to fight me?”
Her tongue touches her upper lip. “No.” Her voice is heavy, husky. “No, I want this.”
“If you want this,” I grip my cock with my free hand, an obscene gesture that makes it clear what we’re talking about, “then you obey.”
With her jaw in my grasp, she can’t shake her head. But she does roll her eyes. I tighten my grip on her face. “No?”
She presses up to her knees. Even on the bed, she can’t match my height, but she doesn’t back down. “You don’t want that.”
I slide my hand from her jaw to her throat. If she gets the threat, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She presses her hands to my bare skin. A shock runs through me at her touch, my body trembling like a racehorse ready to run. She smirks like she knows her control over me.
“Obeying is the quickest way for you to be bored with me. And if you’re bored, I die.”
“You think so?”
She slides a hand south and replaces my fingers on my cock with her own. “I know so.”
“You don’t seem afraid.” I release her neck to trace her lips. The corner of her mouth curls under my finger.
“Maybe I like a challenge too.” She squeezes my cock, and I groan deep in my throat. I have to fight not to thrust into her palm. Naked but for a garter belt and stockings, on her knees, she’s found the upper hand.
Not for long. I grip her hair and draw her back until she’s lying on the bed. She loses her grip on my dick, and I loom over her. “Nice try.”
I ease her knees apart and let my hand fall, smacking her dead on her pussy. She throws her head back, her neck working on a silent cry. “That’s for not following instructions.”
Her chest heaves, but she doesn’t let a sound slip. I slide two fingers up and down her folds. She’s soaking wet, filled with my cum. She can hide many things from me, but her pussy does not lie.
Her reactions leave me wanting. Her breath trembles, but no cry or moan escapes.
I stroke her slick flesh, studying her solemn face. “Who taught you to be so quiet?”
She shakes her head slightly and doesn’t answer.
“This will not do.” With my free hand, I massage her scalp until her eyelids droop. “I want to hear you. Your cries and sobs, everything in between.” Her lips part, her breath growing languid. “Can you do that for me?”
“I’ve never done it before,” she whispers.
“So tense.” I’ve half-folded her in my arms. It’d be an innocent pose if I didn’t have my fingers circling her clit. “So in control. What would it be like to give yourself to me?”
Her eyes flick open. “So you can knife me in my sleep?”
“My knife is over there.” I nod to my dresser. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it before now.”
She barks out a laugh and relaxes more. “I guess you’re right.” She leans back. The sword on her necklace is askew, poking into her collarbone, and she straightens it before stretching her arms overhead. Her back arches, pushing her breasts up on display. “How do you want me?”
“Like this.” With her draped backward, I can play with her pussy as long as I want. “But let go, beautiful.” I paint her red lips with her own juices and reposition myself between her legs. “And scream for me.”
* * *
Lula
Victor lowershis blond head between my knees. I clench up automatically, but the giant hitman is surprisingly gentle. He strokes his fingers up and down my sex, delving into the folds. He finds my clit and circles it, forcing my already wrung-out body to stir. My arousal lifts its head.
He’s right. He’s unarmed, his knife out of reach. But his body is lethal all on its own. In the dappled shadows untouched by the low light, his large frame is impossibly beautiful. His torso is a work of art, each muscle sleek and refined. I crane my head and get a glimpse of his perfect ass right as he swipes his tongue up my center.
“Oooooh.” The barest moan slips out of me.
He chuckles straight into my pussy. “That’s it, my beauty. Let me know what you like.”
For a heartless assassin, he’s pretty considerate. But there’s nothing polite about the way he presses his face into me, tongue fucking my entrance. My hips rock of their own volition, riding him. The breadth of his powerful shoulders is the only thing stopping me from squeezing his head in a vise grip with my thighs.
Is this the time to make my move? My gun is rooms away, and he can still overpower me.
Victor angles his head, nibbling the inside of my thigh while his fingers twist inside me. I’m so fucking wet.
He reaches up and squeezes my breast. “You’re thinking too much.” He rises over me, a dark god in his natural lair. The light gilds his hair. “And you need to pay attention.” He rubs the inner wall of my pussy, massaging my G-spot and tugging my orgasm closer. “To me. And only me.” He dips down to cover my breast with his mouth. The heat makes me melt into the bed. I want to fight it, to push him away, but his fingers and mouth are magic, turning the world hazy. I couldn’t fight him if I tried.
His teeth find my nipple, and I gasp at the slight pinch. My pussy clamps down on his fingers.
“So it’s a touch of pain that does it,” Victor muses, his mouth still between my breasts. “I wonder. . .” His fingers turn cruel, pinching my flesh, his thumb at my clit, and the rest of his fingers stretching my entrance. It’s almost too much, and I’m gasping, my mouth open as if that will allow my pussy to widen and accept him.
He bites my nipple again, scraping the tender bud, and it’s too much. The points of pain at my breast and core light up, the sensation combining and cascading through me. White heat fills me, shocking every nerve ending. I cum, jerking hard enough to levitate off the bed. Victor pins me, crooning praise and pressing kisses to my breasts.
I come down slowly, my ears ringing from my cries. My groin aches from the constant onslaught of orgasms.
“Very good. So beautiful.” Two of his fingers are still inside of me, but he’s eased the pressure of his thumb. He’s got the whole of me in the palm of his hand.
“My god,” I croak. “I’ve come more tonight with you than with all of my other lovers. . . combined.”
“That says less about me than it does about them.”
My laugh blooms bright in the dark. “You’re right. Oh god.” His shadow falls over me, and I cover my face with my hands. “I slept with my fiancé’s killer.”
“And enjoyed it. A better wedding night than you expected?”
Yes. I clamp my lips shut. If he wants me to admit that, he’ll have to wait a long time.
He takes my silence as a challenge and tugs me closer by my legs, angling his hips and guiding his cock to glide deep into me. He props my legs over his shoulders, and I’m grateful for my religious yoga practice as he leans over me, bending me in half. My body is his plaything, a doll, a toy to prop the way he wants. I can claim to hate it, but as the head of his cock stretches my entrance, I can’t deny the heat of arousal flooding me. I want his weight on me, the muscles heavy and honed to perfection. I want his hands on me, his fingers cruel and clever from their deadly work.
I want him. I can lie to him, but I can’t lie to myself. The brutal burn of shame only makes the pleasure more exquisite.
I shout to the ceiling as he plunges into me, filling me to the brim and sending me spiraling higher and higher. My body snaps and sizzles like an exposed wire, and my cries echo on and on into the night.