Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (19 page)

I’m finding what I’ve been missing in the arms of a killer.

I
hold Liv tightly
, my hands caressing her, memorizing her curves and the sensation of her soft skin. I’ve never touched someone with such tenderness. For so long, I thought of my hands as weapons of death, never of pleasure.

I never allowed myself to believe that I could find someone that would see through all the darkness that makes me who I am, and still want to feel my skin on hers.

She looks so beautiful by the sparkling light of the moon and stars above us, and I walk her backwards towards one of the luxurious lounging chairs. I know that falling for her is something I should have resisted, but I couldn’t. Everything about her youth and vigor, the intelligence sparkling behind her eyes... It’s what I’ve always wanted and never deserved. She’s the person who can see the best in me, even at my worst, and when my teeth graze her throat, she moans for more.

I wonder if she always had this little desire for danger or if it’s something that’s changed in her since her life was nearly irreparably changed. I guess she doesn’t know either, and I don’t bother to ask. The silence overtakes us, and I don’t want to talk. I just want to listen to the sweet pants of her breath into the quiet night, and make her break that quiet with an orgasmic scream.

The thought makes me grin and my fingers go to her pants, quickly working them down. She still smells faintly of sex, and it makes my nostrils flare with appreciation as my fingers move to her slick pussy.

She’s so responsive, every touch making her sensitive body quiver, and when my mouth goes to her pussy, she bites down on her lower lip to keep from moaning. But I want her to moan. I want her completely unleashed on my tongue, and I reach up towards her jawline. My fingers trace it before going to her mouth, slowly guiding her lower lip from her teeth.

“This is a night for screaming,” I say, my voice already husky with desire as my cock throbs in my pants. But I need to taste her before I take her, and my tongue works its way back to her slit, running the full length of her pussy before my lips wrap around her clit and I gently suck.

Her eyes go wide and she gasps, and I can tell it’s almost too much for her. Almost, but not quite, so I pin her there and make her take that pleasure. It isn’t until she’s screaming and moaning, her hands batting at my face as her orgasm crashes over her and coats my jaw in her honey that I finally relinquish her.

And even then, she only gets a moment’s reprieve before my fingers go back to her clit, pressing down on that throbbing bud, massaging it as she cries out and squirms.

With my free hand, I push up her top, revealing her bare tits, love bites having left their mark on her nipple where I sucked. I can’t help but smile, and I bring my mouth back to that same place, my tongue flicking the nipple and making it stiffen instantly.

Her little pink areola swells with her arousal, and as I rub her clit, my mouth works against her tiny chest.

Liv cries out in pleasure, and her body twists away from me, so I remove my hand from her clit and give her a warning glance.

“You’ll stay still if you want to be a good girl,” I say with just a hint of teasing behind my dark words. I remember how she responded when I first met her, so eager to please, and the memory makes my cock jump as she quickly stills.

“I’ll be good,” she promises, her breathing so heavy that her voice comes out as a tiny wisp on each breath. “Whatever you want.”

I smile in reward and bring my hand back to her clit, massaging it in a circular motion as I look down on her, so vulnerable and beautiful in the midnight light.

“I want you to come on my hand. And then I want to know what your little lips feel like spread around my cock.”

She doesn’t shy away from the dirty words, and her eyes flash with excitement before I bring my lips back to her nipple, my teeth grabbing it and tugging upon it. I let it snap back to her chest before I repeat the motion, my fingers working their way into her pussy as my thumb keeps rubbing her pulsing bud.

With the stars sparkling overhead and all of Paris resting quietly seven stories below, I work her body with perfect harmony. I notice every time she jolts, every quick inhale of breath, and I memorize them, then repeat the motions that brought those dulcet sounds to her lips. It doesn’t take long before I learn her perfect tempo, the one that brings her body crashing down around me, her pussy clenching my fingers so tightly as she screams into the night sky, breaking the serenity of the evening with an even more wonderful sound.

As she comes down from her high, I can see she’s a bit embarrassed at having lost such control, but I push my mouth against hers and silence those fears. After what she’s been through, she deserves to lose control and really feel happy and good.

That’s why, seconds later, I stand and straddle the lounge chair, and her on it, my throbbing cock bobbing just inches from her face. She stares at it, then me, skeptically and just when I think she’s going to shyly back down, she instead reaches for me.

Still, she pauses. “I’ve never—”.

“I know,” I interrupt her, and bring my hand to the back of her head. “Just open your mouth, and let your tongue fall over your teeth.” She’s so obedient, and her eyes twinkle in the dim light, excitement and relief mingling there.

“Hold onto the base. Firmer than that. You won’t hurt me,” I promise, and my lip twitches with a smirk. “Now bring your mouth to me.”

It’s amateurish, but when her sweet little tongue darts out and runs along my head, collecting the precum there, it ignites something in me. I’ve never had a person so intent on pleasing me like her, and certainly never someone who knew what I was capable of.

And within a few minutes, and a few more simple instructions, her head is bobbing up and down my cock like a pro. I taught her just how I like it, and several times she nearly made me buckle over in pleasure, but I hold it back.

I still hunger for more, to be up within that tight pussy of hers, yet the way she gazes up at me as she blows me...

I want to reward her diligent efforts, and I let myself come, coating her tongue in my seed. She’s taken off guard and pulls back, and some of it lances across her mouth, to which she giggles happily before swallowing.

“There was more,” she laughs nervously, and I nod as she wipes away my cream from her face. Her innocence and intelligence mingle, drawing me into her, and I can’t help but lunge for her neck once more, biting her and sucking upon her skin. She tastes better than any food I’ve had, feels better than any pleasure I’ve tried.

How one person could make me feel so strongly for them in such a short time is a complete mystery to me, but I don’t intend to question it.

I intend to mark her as mine. Again.

After just a few minutes of exploring her body with my hands and mouth, feeling over her slender curves and hearing her moans start rising once more, my cock is stiffer than ever. I grab her legs, spreading them, less gently than her first time. That time I wanted it to be all about her. This time, I want it to be all about us, exploring what really makes each other tick.

And when I thrust into her deep, she cries out with such a delicious moan, I know I’ve read her right. She wants to feel alive, and the perfect combination of pleasure and pain is what she seeks. I look down on her, keeping her gaze as my hips draw back, then push forward again.

With each thrust, her small breasts bounce, and I can still see that one is wet and glistening from my mouth. I push her ankle over my shoulder as my hand reaches down, tweaking that nipple again, feeling her pussy tighten in response.

“You like that,” I say, more than ask, and she whimpers in response.

“Is this bad?”

I shake my head.

“No,
malyutka
. Nothing you do could ever be bad,” I say, and I mean it. She relaxes into me, taking me deeper as her body writhes against mine, and before long, we’re meeting one another at the peak of pleasure, her cries sending me over the brink. A hot fire travels down my spine, flooding my body as I flood her depths, holding her flexible body pinned against me.

We pant for breath as we slump into one another, and I slowly slip from her.

I smile a faded grin as I lift her limp body, her arms wrapping around my neck in a loose grip, exhaustion having taken her. I take her back into our room, and pull the blankets up over her. Already there’s a look of serenity on her face. It’s an expression I’ve never truly seen on a woman before, and it scares me how much it makes my heart pound with desire.

Everything about her — about our relationship — is dangerous, and she knows that as well as I do. But we can’t help but collide into one another’s bodies again and again, and her expression right now... That’s what’s going to keep me coming back for more.

She doesn’t just want me for my body, or for what I can do to hers. She feels something far more deeply, far more pure than that.

I watch her as she sleeps, my fingers grazing over her jaw, over her shoulder, as I wonder if a killer like me even deserves something so pure and beautiful as love...

It isn’t until the morning sun crests the sky, bathing my sleeping angel in a golden glow that I realize I missed something. I shift, reaching for my phone and heading out onto the terrace to make a quick call.

“Felix, meet us in the lobby. I know where we need to go next. It’s… dangerous. I hoped we wouldn’t have to go there, but it looks like it’s our only choice.”

* * *

M
y car tears
down the country road as I speed towards my destination, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, even if my black gloves conceal them. I might be too late already, if Maggie is where I suspect she is. And I wish I had reason to doubt my suspicions.

My route takes me far north of the city, far enough that the bright and sprawling metropolis of Paris is out of sight behind me, save for the glow over the horizon bright enough to be a beacon to everything around it.

For kilometers, there’s nothing on this stretch of road to my left and right but farmlands and fields. The odd car I pass every few minutes is the only other source of company on this lonely stretch of road — so much so, that if I hadn’t known where I was going, I would have missed my turn onto a narrow dirt road that leads a short distance to what to anyone else would look like some kind of garage for industrial shipping, a run-down, two-story building with few features and rusty corners, half-obscured by high, weathered walls and no gate.

The logo on the front of the walls belongs to a shipping company that has been out of business for many years. But none of the local authorities ever investigates this place, and no city official of the nearby towns and hamlets dare move to have it destroyed or repurposed.

Each and every one of them is bought, because my target used to be one of the most valuable junctions of the slave trade in France.

I stop just after my turn. My eyes are on those ruined walls as I silently slip out of my car and move around to the trunk, retrieving my equipment and strapping it on my person. As I strap guns to my chest and knives at my side, my eyes fall on a ski mask I’ve kept on hand for some time. I consider donning it but I reconsider and close the trunk.

Should anyone see me and live, I’m done hiding. I want them to know who’s shutting down the slave ring again.

Crouching low, I make my way to the walls, pressing myself up against the side and listening for what’s inside. I can hear little, but the occasional footsteps tell me there’s at least one man outside the facility. Back in the old days, the Bratva usually ran things similarly, making it look like there was a lone employee in the parking lot.

I move up to where the walls part into an opening, just a few inches from the corner, and I slip my knife out. My other hand reaches into my pocket for my car keys. My lock has a relatively quiet horn, a light sound that won’t carry beyond the exterior of the building. Taking a breath, I click the lock button twice.

My car gives a short beep as the lights flash once. I hear the footsteps in the courtyard pause, then start to come closer.

I breathe a sigh of relief. If he wasn’t alone, he would have said something to his partner. A few moments later, I watch a man in a white tank top holding a cigarette in one hand and an Uzi in the other stride into view, craning his head to look for the source of the unscheduled arrival. He has time to catch sight of me and widen his eyes before I’m upon him like a tiger, wrapping a hand over his mouth and dragging him behind the wall before my knife slides between his ribs and silences him forever.

I lay his body down in the bushes beside the wall before I start searching him. Cigarette pack, spare pistol, wallet...and a cardkey on a lanyard. I free the cardkey and slip it into my jacket pocket, poking my head around the corner before advancing into the grounds.

The walls around me hold more than just sleazy men with more weaponry than they should ever be entrusted with. In the days of the Bratva’s human trafficking ring, this place was a shipping facility of sorts.

Here, they prepared the women they enslaved to leave the country. This was the last stop for these women before they were sent to their new lives, if such slavery could be called living, and it was here that they would often break the more spirited women for all they could. Starvation, sleep deprivation, anything that would make them more pliable before their journeys to their buyers, whether they be in Europe or as far as Asia or, most commonly, North America.