CHAPTER 20 #3
He pins both my hands high above my head against the wall with his left hand, holding my wrists hostage while his right hand grips my hip to anchor me.
He begins to move, forcing me to endure his relentless, driving pace.
Every hard thrust against the wall echoes the dull gunfire still popping off outside.
It’s a violent, pounding rhythm that dictates my own frantic heartbeat.
He pulls almost all the way out before slamming his thick cock deep inside me again, hitting my cervix with a blunt force that makes my toes curl inside my combat boots.
He watches my face the entire time, savoring the way my eyes blow wide and dark, completely wrecked by the sensation.
The concrete wall behind us physically vibrates as a heavy C4 explosion rocks the building’s foundations somewhere on the lower level, shaking the dust off the ceiling tiles.
"Look at me while I take it from you," he orders, his hips snapping forward with brutal efficiency.
"It’s..." I pant, my gaze locked on his icy, dominant stare. "...already yours."
He shifts his grip, releasing my wrists and bringing his massive hand to the back of my neck.
His thumb presses aggressively into the sensitive, pulse-beating skin right behind my ear, holding my head steady as he fucks me.
He starts whispering filthy, low-voiced praises directly against my cheek.
He tells me how wet my pussy is, how beautifully I dropped those men, how cold my aim is, and how perfectly my darkness fits right into his.
My head thumps back rhythmically against the wall in time with his deep thrusts, my chin-length auburn hair whipping around my face in a wild halo.
The sharp smell of smoke begins drifting under the gap of the office door, but I don't give a fuck.
I want him to break the last of me right here against this wall.
"Such a good little killer," he praises, his cock sliding deep inside my slick core.
"More," I beg, my nails digging hard into his shoulders. "Please."
The climax builds like a freight train, amplified by the heavy sound of approaching boots.
Sven’s team is pushing up the stairwell.
It’s a massive, unhinged race between the pleasure destroying my brain and the discovery of our location.
Leon’s pace becomes absolutely frantic. He’s punishing me, his hips snapping with violent force, his muscles bunching like iron cables beneath his suit jacket.
"Now, Alessia," he snarls, his voice dropping into a dark, commanding octave. "Give it to me now."
The white-hot tension in my lower abdomen snaps.
I shatter first. It’s a completely silent, body-racking orgasm that seizes every muscle in my legs and leaves me gasping for air against his neck.
My pussy violently clenches around his thick cock, milking him dry.
I bite down hard on the thick fabric covering his shoulder to keep from crying out as the pleasure fractures my reality.
Leon follows a microsecond later. His entire massive frame shudders uncontrollably as he spills his hot load deep inside me.
He buries his face in my hair, letting out a low, guttural, animalistic sound of total triumph.
My fingers dig so hard into the meat of his shoulders that I know my nails are drawing thin red lines right through his expensive shirt.
The world is ending outside this room, but I’m finally home.
There is no way back now. I am the syndicate.
We stay locked together for several long, heavy seconds.
The immediate room is still, the ringing silence in my ears only broken by the frantic, shared tempo of our racing hearts.
Leon keeps my body pinned hard to the wall, his cock still twitching inside me, asserting his absolute ownership even as the adrenaline begins to slowly recede.
We are both damp with sweat, trembling slightly from the sheer physical taxation of the high.
Slowly, he pulls out, the wet, obscene sound loud in the quiet room.
He sets my feet on the floor. Without a word, he reaches down and pulls my utility pants back up for me.
It’s a surprisingly intimate, deeply possessive gesture of care before the violent world rushes back in to claim us.
The cold air hits the damp skin of my stomach, and the smell of gun smoke grows stronger, burning my throat.
The transition back to reality is harder than the actual firefight.
"Get your weapon," he orders, his voice entirely steady.
I zip my pants, my hands shaking uncontrollably. "I'm ready."
Leon steps back, instantly straightening his ruined suit jacket and shooting his cuffs.
He checks his heavy tactical watch. In the span of three seconds, he is once again the cold, calculated syndicate boss, but his icy eyes remain fixed on me, dark and utterly satisfied.
I hurriedly pull my tactical vest back down, pressing the velcro shut.
I reach up and wipe a thick smudge of soot off Leon’s sharp cheekbone with my thumb before turning back to the desk.
I grab my Glock, checking the chamber. How the fuck can he turn the monster off so fast?
"Time?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
He twists the deadbolt. "Ninety seconds. Sven is at the door."
Leon yanks the office door open, and we step directly back into the chaos.
The hallway is entirely thick with grey smoke now, burning my eyes.
Sven and four of his heavily armed men are stacked up at the far end of the corridor, aiming down their sights at the central double doors of the administrative suite.
Sven looks back over his shoulder. His eyes narrow instantly as he takes in our disheveled appearance—Leon’s missing tie, the flush on my neck, the smeared dirt.
He knows exactly what just happened. Good.
Let him fucking wonder what kind of psycho I am, fucking the boss in the middle of a war zone.
"Boss!" Sven yells over the noise. "We’re ready to breach."
Leon racks the slide on his weapon, stepping forward. "Then what are you waiting for?"
We converge on the final target. The air in the hallway is electric with the coming climax.
Leon puts a heavy hand on my right shoulder, a final, grounding touch that silently says finish this.
I raise my weapon, my injured bicep absolutely screaming in protest, but my body is humming with a lethal frequency.
I am ready to face the man who started this war.
A movement catches my eye in the dark recesses of the exposed steel rafters above the office suite.
A sniper is shifting his rifle. I don't break my stride.
I raise the Glock, acquire the target, and drop him with a single, perfect shot to the skull.
The body tumbles out of the rafters, crashing hard onto the desk below.
Leon smirks in the dark. "Nice shot, Architect."
"The Agent would have missed," I reply coldly.
Sven kicks the double doors. The blinding white light of a tactical flashlight cuts through the smoke. There is a sudden, absolute silence before the heavy wooden doors give way with a violent splintering crack.
The smoke begins to clear as we step into the massive office, revealing the skeletal, bullet-ridden remains of the room.
The rival syndicate leader is backed entirely against his massive mahogany desk, his expensive suit coated in white drywall dust. His face is a pathetic mask of blood and sheer, unfiltered terror.
He holds a trembling, compact weapon leveled in our direction, but the way his hands are shaking, it’s clear he’s already lost.
Leon stops dead in the center of the wreckage.
He lowers his weapon completely, opening his arms wide as if welcoming the end.
But his eyes aren't on the rival boss. They are fixed intensely on me. The target is cornered and bleeding, but the true conflict in this room is entirely between Leon and me. He is waiting to see if I will take the final, cold-blooded step to execute this man without his direct command. A single, heavy drop of blood from my bitten lip falls, hitting the dark nylon of my tactical vest. The smell of burnt paper and spilled, expensive scotch fills the room. The only sound is the rival leader’s shallow, sobbing breaths.
The final test isn't about this pathetic man bleeding on his desk.
It's about whether I can live with the absolute monster I’ve become.
"Look at him, Alessia," Leon says, his voice a smooth, deadly calm in the destruction. "Is this what you feared?"
"He's just a man," I answer, staring at the shaking gun in the rival's hand.
"Then show me what you are," Leon challenges softly.
I raised the gun. He was just meat and bad decisions, and my safety was already off.