Lethal Sin (Dangerous Games Book 1) (16 page)

Also? She knew he always pulled his hits with her. She’d seen him put a man on the ground in a single punch, and she had no problem taking advantage of whatever gentlemanly qualities made him hold back with her. It meant she might win – which was rare – but so much fun when she did. Mostly because she tortured him with it for days until her ass was blistering from all the spankings and she finally let it go.

“Want me, Mateo?”

He laughed. “You know I do.”

“Come and get me then.” She grinned and loved the way his eyes grew darker, his pupils dilating as the predator inside him took over. Camille wasn’t easy prey by any means, but that’s what made it so exciting. Taking a step back was all she needed to do to start the fun, he charged her and she turned and ran back towards the door. She never planned on leaving, but she liked making him chase her. When she heard his footsteps catching up she launched off the wall and towards the right, snagging a belt from a rack on the wall she snapped it in her hands as she turned and walked backwards.

“Smart girl,” he growled. “I’m going to need that in a minute.”

“I think I’ll use it first.”

“I doubt it.” He came towards her again, but she leapt the bondage chair he had pulled out before she left on the recent trip. It was covered in thick straps, and he had put her in it with a vibrator in each hole, holding another to her clit, and watched her come over and over until she begged him to stop. Then he’d grabbed the Hitachi.
Devious bastard.

God, she loved it though.

Loved
this.

With him on the other side of the chair she grinned. “Did you miss me?”

“Did
you
miss me?” He asked, his eyes flicking between her face, her breasts, and the belt securely held in her hands.

“Answer me first.” She countered him as he tried to dart around the chair, keeping it positioned between them.

“Yes.” He casually took a step to the side, but she mirrored him. “I missed you. I wish we could just do those jobs together, then I’d always know you were okay.”

His honesty surprised her, and her heart tripped over itself as it tried to continue beating at its rapid pace. She knew what it felt like to wait for someone to return from a job and them never come back. In the moment she’d been distracted by long suppressed memories he had shifted and he was close. Mateo reached for her and she instinctively wrapped the belt around his wrist, twisting it and turning around. They ended up back to back and she cranked his arm backwards, hearing his breath catch as the pain registered. “I missed you too,” she forced out, wondering why neither of them could voice these things when they weren’t surrounded by some kind of violence.

“Going to break my arm?” He ground out the words, the pain evident in his voice.

“No. I like what you can do with your fingers.” Kicking the back of his leg she shoved against his back and he landed hard on his knees, letting her have more leverage on the belt. The low groan he released as he tilted his body so the tension on his arm lessened made her second-guess herself for a moment. She really
didn’t
want to break his arm. Unconsciously she must have relaxed her grip on the belt because he ripped it from her hands and turned, grabbing her to slam her into the floor, pinning her beneath him.

“Mercy is weakness, Camille.” His feral grin hovered above her and she smiled back at him.

“You still haven’t shot me.”

“You haven’t shot me either.” Mateo kissed her hard, grabbing her wrists to pin them down so she couldn’t do anything else but submit to his lips.

They said those words to each other constantly, it was – she believed – their own version of an ‘
I love you
’, and for assassins like them it worked. The real words never seemed to make it past all of her internal walls, and she was pretty sure he felt the same way. Too many years making sure there were no weak points in their armor, no places they could be manipulated, no one that could be threatened to twist their arms.

But now Camille had Luke, Luke’s mom, and Mateo. Three weak points, but at least Mateo could defend himself. He was safe. As safe as anyone in her world, and that’s why she was falling in love with him despite all her efforts otherwise. Despite every conscious choice to view him just as a great fuck buddy, a safe place to rest her head between jobs – he was more than that, and they both knew it.

It was just that neither of them would
say
it.

He nipped her lip and then his mouth slipped lower, tracing her jaw and then her neck before he latched on to her nipple and drew it hard between his lips. She moaned and arched off the floor and he growled against her skin. “I need you.”

She nodded rapidly and twisted beneath him to yank her wrists free and pull her pants and underwear lower, but Mateo sat up and ripped them from her before undoing his own pants. His cock sprang into view, already hard with a pearl of precum at the tip that begged her to swipe her tongue over it. He didn’t give her a chance though as he pinned her wrists again and pressed his knees between hers to spread her wide. “Mateo…” she whined as he traced a finger up her slit, gathering her wetness to glide his fingers over her clit in a pattern that sent lightning strikes up her spine.

“Come for me, Camille.” His voice was rough and as the pleasure built she didn’t feel like arguing against
that
command, and so she let it crash over her like a suffocating wave. Gasping she clenched her hands into fists and cried out as the orgasm rocked her, reveling in the way he held her down exactly where he wanted her. It was something she had always hated, fought with everything in her, but Mateo was different. Everything about him was different. No other man had made her crave this, had made her want this, it was an addiction she couldn’t shake – and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“Fuck!” She tried to pull her hands from his grip but he held her fast, and then he was teasing her with the head of his cock. Running it up and down her slit, brushing against her pulsing clit before pressing against her only to pull back.

“Beg me for it,” he commanded and she whined because she wanted to. She wanted to beg him to fuck her hard, to take her and make her come again and again, because no matter how rough they played he always made sure she had her pleasure in spades.

“Dammit, Mateo…”

“Do it. Beg me.” He slid himself inside her a little, but when she lifted her hips he pulled away, and she couldn’t imagine the self-control he had to hold back. In fact, where was
her
stellar self-control in this moment?

Lost in the orgasm, and the weight of him above her, and in the dark depths of his eyes.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, arching herself off the floor in a way that she knew would tempt him, but he just laughed softly and nipped at her offered breast.

“That doesn’t sound like begging, doll face.” His voice held too much laughter and she groaned.

“Asshole.”

“Want me to fuck your ass?” he asked, and she laughed.

“Maybe later.” Camille grinned, enjoying the look of raw lust that crossed over his face. It would be fun to have him take her that way, his fist in her hair, his other hand holding her hip in place as he took her while she fought against the pain and pleasure of it – but right now she wanted him to finish what he’d started, and her pussy was soaked and clenching at the emptiness created by his teasing. “Please fuck me, Mateo. I need to feel you inside me, I need your hard -”

He cut her off with a sharp thrust, filling her instantly, and she moaned as he stretched her when he drove in to the hilt. Hips tilting, heels digging into the floor, she opened herself up for him and he moaned against her shoulder before capturing her lips. The kiss was pure fire, burning her up on the inside as he pulled back and thrust again, even harder. Her shoulders and back scratched against the floor, but she didn’t care. She needed this, needed him. “Damn, you’re perfect…” he mumbled against her lips as his hips picked up a punishing rhythm.

“Harder,” she moaned and he bit down on her shoulder as he slammed his hips against hers. There was no holding back now, no pulling of proverbial punches, he was using every ounce of his strength to pin her down and fuck her – and he was so fucking strong. Powerful. His broad shoulders eclipsed her, his dark hair mixing with her bright white blonde, and she loved that they were two halves of the same coin. Dark and deadly.

Another orgasm crested inside her and she came hard around him, but he didn’t slow, forcing her to ride it out until each rub against her clit was agonizing pleasure, the best kind of torture, and then the raw ache faded and there was another orgasm looming. Her breath caught in her chest, a whine slipping from her lips as she listened to his harsh breaths pistoning inside his lungs, and she wanted to feel him lose control. Yanking at his grip on her wrists, she pulled until he released her and she wrapped her arms around his back, dragging her nails down as he used his newly freed hand to prop himself up. This was perfection. He delivered hard, unforgiving thrusts that had her dancing on that line between pleasure and pain, her hips lifting to meet his only to be slammed back into the floor beneath them.

He was so big, so strong, so powerful, and so
hers
.

Mateo came with a shout, stilling deep inside her so that she felt him spill himself, the warm rush of his seed making his next few shallow thrusts tip her into an orgasm of her own. Her body was too tired for the full fireworks, but the pleasurable rush still spiraled through her and made her clench him. He groaned and dropped his weight over her. Warm, masculine skin covering her. “Hell…” he whispered, and she smiled against his chest, pressing a kiss over his heart.

He rolled so that she was on top of him, draped like a too hot blanket, but they were both too worn out to move for the moment – and he didn’t seem to mind much anyway. His arms wrapped around her, holding her to him with a firm embrace and she let herself melt against him. “You’re perfect too,” she whispered and he squeezed her a little tighter.

“I feel like I need to send Scarpa and Eddie fruit baskets.”

She laughed and pushed herself up as he slid from her. “Why?”

“Because it was Eddie’s incompetence and Scarpa’s orders that brought you to me.” He reached up and brushed her cheek. “If they had killed you outright, I wouldn’t have even known how happy I could be.”

Camille’s heart did its little fumble again, and she hated that he seemed to always come up with the right words while her own brain was full of a lingering electrical storm of pleasure and absolutely nothing useful. “You’re happy?” she asked.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Maybe,” she acquiesced and curled up on his chest. His hands roamed over her back, brushing over her skin as she listened to his heart race behind his ribs, slowing down as they lay there in silence. Camille bit her lip, trying to decide what she could or should say, but eventually she just threw caution to the wind as she usually did. “You make me happy too.”

“Do I?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She laughed at using his own words against him again, but he just squeezed her in a firm hug, his hard body crushing her to him.

“I want you to be safe, Camille. If something had happened to you with the Russian, I -” he cleared his throat, his arms still firmly around her. “I don’t know how I would have… I just don’t know what I would have done.”

“Killed him yourself?” She offered, and he let out a short laugh, but it didn’t have his normal joy behind it.

“Yes, I would have. Very slowly. But…” He blew out a breath and released her enough that she could sit up on his hips. Mateo stared up into her eyes, and she was shocked to find real emotion in them. Nothing playful, but a kind of vulnerability that had never existed there before.

“What?” She prompted him to continue, and he sighed, settling his hands around her waist.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else I could have this with. I don’t want to lose it.” His eyes drifted away from hers with that confession and she wanted to pull his face back so he would look at her, but she was worried it would end the moment.

Swallowing her own nerves, she spoke. “Are you trying to say you love me, Mateo Salvai?”

His body stiffened under her and his dark eyes snapped back to hers, his brows pulling together with an almost pained expression. “Camille…”

It was her turn to be the one with the words, and she made herself ignore the turning in her stomach, the butterflies that battered her insides with razor sharp wings. “I do.”

“You love me, Camille Devereaux?” A smile ghosted across his lips, and she waited for a moment before she forced herself to nod.

“Yeah,” she mumbled and he grinned and flipped them so she was under him, his dark hair brushing over his forehead.

“Then I’m one lucky asshole, because I’m pretty sure I love you too.” His words made her chest fill with bubbles of light and they seemed to expand until her ribs ached. It left her speechless and so she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss, and he took it over like he always did, ravishing her mouth with the kind of dominance she had long ago associated with him. Their tongues met, they nipped at each other’s lips, and their hands pulled each other closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between them. Eventually the intensity spaced out until he was peppering kisses across her cheeks, her neck, her lips, her nose. It made her laugh and he laughed low, his eyes meeting hers as he propped himself above her. “So, what does this mean?”