“Better than my place,” she says as we close the door behind us. I lock it, then start to look around the room. I have to be able to navigate the room in the dark, just in case.
Alicia, meanwhile, heads right to the bed and takes off her ridiculously high heels.
“I don’t know how trophy wives do this. Six inch stilettos are for dinner and dancing only, not sitting in a car forever,” she says, but her voice is light and airy.
I can’t help myself, my gaze taken from the task of surveilling the room to look her over again. Her beautiful body is hidden beneath the pink yoga outfit I bought her but doing little to keep me from the memory of how she really looks beneath it all.
“There are worse things such women have to do,” I mutter, knowing where this is going. And knowing even more intimately what it is I have to do. For her own damn good.
“Yea, I’m sure spending sprees on someone else’s credit card is exhausting,” she teases with a flip of her long, blonde hair. She seemed so tired in the car, but now she’s perked up, her sense of humor returning. I force myself not to grin, though, and she cocks her head at me, her beautiful green eyes twinkling with mischief.
She thinks she knows what she’s doing, but she doesn’t. Sitting there like a vixen, leaning back just enough to show off the outline of her breasts beneath the stretchy fabric, her legs crossed so that I can see the curve of her ass, she feels like a temptress.
But I’m a man she doesn’t want to tempt.
I stride over toward her, reach out a hand. My calloused, ringed fingers sliding along her smooth, ivory cheek and back into her blonde hair. She tempts me, but she shouldn’t. I need to show her that.
“The kept woman of a mobster like me doesn’t just get to spend and relax,” I growl at her, my voice deep and menacing. I should know, I’ve seen many a man wet himself to my threats. “She has to earn it. Not just on her back, kotika,” I lick my lips, because as much as I’m being threatening, the thoughts are exciting me, “but on her knees.”
I watch her thoughts as they pass over her expression. Her curiosity melds into fear and desire all at once. It’s an intriguing mix, and her emerald eyes watch as I lick my lips and say the crass words. As a hitman, I have to be perceptive of everything, to every last twitch of a human face.
Usually it’s because I need to know when and how to kill someone.
This time it’s helpful, because I can see how excited she’s becoming, just by the flush in her cheeks and the way her chest rises and falls more quickly with her light breaths.
“Is that what you want?”
“That’s how it is,” I say, not exactly a direct answer, but it’ll do. I let my long fingers toy with her hair, my thumb brush her cheek and trace along her pretty face. “You didn’t think going down this road with me would be all sunshine and fairy tales, did you?” I ask, arching a brow and stepping in closer, my height advantage making me tower over her shapely form so menacingly. “Men like me demand a lot of their women.”
I’ve never been like this with women. In fact, I loathe the way the other mobsters push their girls around, cheat on them, use them. It’s the actions of tiny, insecure men.
But this isn’t for my benefit. It’s for hers.
She’s still trying to be brave, but I can feel the little tremor that tenses at her temple. I can see the way she looks towards the door, just for the briefest of moments before a smile touches her lips.
“I already survived round one, Mikhail.”
She’s still brazen, and I know I have to break that from her if I’m to knock any sense into her. So I move my hand around to the back of her head, knitting my fingers through her blond hair as I take hold. Then the pressure starts as I push her downwards, my free hand going to my waist, undoing the zipper on my pants.
“Then show me,” I husk. “Show me you’ve got what it takes to be a killer’s woman.”
Her body tenses for a second at the added pressure as she drops lower, but then she’s reaching out, one hand on my thigh, the other going for my cock as I let the thick, growing shaft loose of my pants. Her breathing gets harder, but she licks her full lips, and then she’s licking the tip of my crown, her eyes fluttering up to look at me as she does so.
It’d be the prettiest sight in the world, if it weren’t for what it means.
Her mouth wraps around the head of my dick, slowly teasing her way down, trying to set her own pace.
I’m rock-solid in no time, and my cock is swelling to fullness in her mouth, stretching those pretty lips of hers. It’s such a lewd display, and my dick throbs with excitement as she begins to work me into her warm, wet mouth. I love the feel, and my veiny shaft never looked so good as it does crammed into her pretty face like this.
I can’t resist but give a moan.
“That’s a good girl,” I say without realizing it, enjoying this more than I intended as I stroke her hair and push her head in, making her move a little faster. Make her take me a little deeper.
She braces herself against my thigh but doesn’t resist. She has something to prove now, I realize too late, and I’m not positive which one of us will come out the winner.
Her tongue trails along my veins, her dark lashes fluttering down to hide her gaze from me as she lets out a low moan of appreciation. She shifts on the bed, positioning herself so she can take me deeper, my heavy hand urging her on.
My cock glistens with her saliva as her mouth pulls back, those pouty lips dragging along the thick veins until she’s suckling upon the very tip. And I’m finding myself more taken with this than I should. I was meaning to show her the truth of things, instead I was making myself crave her deeper.
I give her head a bit more of an aggressive push until my balls are smacking her chin with the motions of her mouth, and I growl out.
“A mobster’s girl has to take it. Any time, any place…any which way he needs it,” I tell her, sounding so possessive. Letting my brutishness out more. Untying the restrained beast within.
But that’s dangerous, even for teaching a lesson. Because deep down, there’s so much I want to do to this woman…change her forever. Make her mine. Mark her permanently.
12
Alicia
I’m nearly choking on his huge cock, but I can’t give up. I feel like he wants me to prove myself, to show him that he’s not going to break me. That I can handle him, at his best and worst.
I don’t know why I need to prove this so badly, not just to himself, but to me. I’ve never had these feelings for anyone before. Not like this.
When he said he was going to leave, I swear I felt my heart break. And if I can make him stay with a blowjob? It’s going to be the best goddamned blowjob anyone has ever received in their life.
He has me pinned against him, though, and I’m barely able to move but for the wiggle of my tongue, spreading the thick saliva over more of his cock. Tentatively I reach down, finding the sac beneath, grasping it lightly in my hands. It’s a contrast from the aggressive face fucking, the tender rolling of his balls between my digits, but with how he’s moaning, I know I’m winning him over.
He sheds his jacket, and then there’s just the shirt beneath, hugging his muscles as I make his chest heave with his rising breaths. He’s so big in my mouth that it hurts my jaw to stretch this wide, but I’m committed. Partly it’s because I tell myself I want him on my side, to protect me, but really I know that’s a convenient lie. I’m drawn to him on a base level. It’s that and that alone that makes me lash my tongue along the thick, bulging veins of his dick with such attention, cradle his balls with such affection.
Then finally, he unbuttons his shirt, and I see the rippling muscles beneath. Those thick pecs and abs unveiled as he sheds his clothes.
“Just the beginning,” he says with a husky roar, grasping my shoulders and prying me off his cock so that the long, thick member throbs in the open air, glistening with my saliva as he pushes me back onto the bed. “You’re going to take this cock in your raw little pu
ssy,” he says in a dark voice as he puts one knee up onto the bed, “because that’s where I want to blow every single load.”
Oh God. Oh God! Part of me wants to flee, to be gone from this charade, this messed up Stockholm Syndrome relationship. But he’s definitely a beast, and I must be a hell of a beauty by how turned on those words make me. They should send me running to the hills, not bending back on the bed, arching my back like a wanton slut.
But I do want it, and his dark words only excite something within me, something I’ve never been aware of until now. My hands go to the sides of my pants, and I tug them down, revealing myself inch by inch, showing him exactly what type of a woman I am.
He watches with those dark, smoldering eyes of his as I shed my pants, unveiling myself to his hungry eyes. His dick swells and throbs before me, the biggest I’ve ever seen and looking so fiercely aroused after my sucking. He yanks away my pants and panties as they reach my ankles, then grasps hold of my thighs, pressing them back, spreading me open wide as he gets between my legs.
“If you’re going to be mine, you’re never going to need any protection again,” he rumbles, and part of me acknowledges that he means both protection from others, and protection from him knocking me up. But my brain buzzes on the latter point as he takes hold of the base of his cock and smacks it against my wet pussy lips.
It sends a jolt through me, and I cry out in pleasure, my body contorting before him. I can’t stop looking at him, at the muscular Adonis who is so filled with dangerous desire. Does he want me to push him away? Does he think that’s what he’s doing?
Instead, he’s ignited a white hot flame within me, and I lift my hips toward his dick, begging him with my wet pussy.
“You want me?” I try to purr seductively, but instead it comes out as all desire with no finesse. It’ll have to do.
“I’ve got you,” he growls, grasping the hair at the back of my head.
His chiseled body is marked with tattoos, which only adds to how fearsome he looks. But somehow, despite how commanding he is, I feel like I’m safe with him. That helps as he wields that massive shaft of his, piercing my womanhood with it as he sinks down into me with a single motion, causing me to cry out as he moans. My narrow little pussy stretched so wide to accommodate him, it hurts!
I feel so alive, so present in the moment. The sensation of his flesh against mine, the sound of his heavy breathing, the light scent of our arousal mixing in the air... It all comes together to form a cocktail of exquisite beauty, and I reach out, my nails digging into his hip. I catch a gleam of a scar just beyond my thumb, but I can’t even wonder how he got it. Not now.
Now, all I concern myself with is his body crushing mine.
His powerful form goes to work, grasping me, holding me in place as he begins to piston that massive shaft into me. Deep, hard thrusts pounding to the utmost depths of my womanhood as he moans over top of me, and all that beautiful muscle glistens with rising perspiration.
He’s hard, and it twinges a little, but I take him and I love it. He’s rougher than before, his balls slapping against my ass noisily as the bed creaks.
And there’s something hard in his eyes, something dangerous, but even that turns me on. I can’t turn away from his darkness, because something in him speaks to me. His roughness complements my hidden needs, and already I’m finding my body begin to spark with electricity.
He hasn’t even touched my clit, but I can feel the jolts begin to cluster there at the apex of my thighs, just above his harsh body.
This was meant to be his dominion over me, showing me what it means to be his girl. But here I am building toward an orgasm as he pumps his way to his release. And as I rub my slender fingers over his chest, feeling the ridges of hard muscle beneath, I can feel the sinew tighten, feel him approaching his own climax.
“I’ll make you mine, girl,” he growls huskily, watching his torso undulate as he approaches his end.
“I am yours,” I gasp out, and I don’t even realize what I’m saying. It’s just the truth, blurted out without thought seconds before the ultimate pleasure crashes down upon me. My fingers tighten into the blankets as I scream, my body turning electric.
For a moment as pleasure explodes within me, I forget that this big, brutish hunk is about to unload inside me. And he does just that a mere moment later, his dick swelling as he lets loose a roar. His release coming on fast and hard as he pumps me full, thick gouts of his virile seed flooding into my unprotected depths, just the way he wanted, as he claims me atop the motel room bed.
He’s a wild beast, taking me so roughly in those final moments as he gives me every last spurt and drop he has. The view of his rippling physique on display as he tenses, keeping himself pressed to my utmost depths.
Never in my life have I felt so free, and the irony is definitely not lost upon me. This moment, this beautiful, wonderful moment of the purest type of passion is utter perfection.
My arms wrap around him, our bodies glistening with perspiration, and I lift my head to kiss him.
He kisses me back, holding me a while, and everything seems so perfect. He’s passionate and warm in the afterglow of our sex. But after I begin to drift off atop the bed with him in the late night, I feel him pull away, untangling himself from me.
“Where are you going?” I murmur with a hazy, groggy voice.
“I have to pay the price for your hideaway,” he says, and just like that a chill runs through me. I know what he means.
Someone’s going to die.
13
Mikhail
Doing a hit comes as naturally to me as changing the tires on a pickup truck comes to a mechanic. It’s just a simple task that comes along with the trade.
The real chore of doing a hit is all the prep work. And that’s why I’m out in the pre-twilight hours of the morning, tracking down my target for the hit. It didn’t take long to locate him, as rich guys live large and lavishly. A simple text to a source I’ve long relied on, and the address is mine. He even fishes up whether the guy is likely home or abroad. He’s likely home.
I pop over to the guy’s manor and get a peek at what vehicle he rides in. It requires me slipping in, balaclava and all, and this is the riskiest part. Because a fuckup here can ruin everything. But there’s just the one car, which thankfully makes things easier. I know what he’ll be riding in. It’s a sports car, two-seater. Which narrows things down. I know he’s only going to be in one of two places.
With that out of the way I slip away, the world's quietest yet least successful burglar, then get to work.
Remember that stuff about mechanics? Well, I fancy myself one part of the time, with some of the work I do. I ditch my car elsewhere in town once driving near my target, then swipe a car. It’s an easy thing, stealing a car, even these expensive new ones.
It’s a BMW, a model I’m used to working with. It’ll work great for what I have in mind, a nice sturdy, solid hood.
I drive the car over to a closed garage. Picking locks is something I learned back in Russia as a teen, and has always come in handy. Before any time is passed I’m inside and working on my new acquisition.
My jacket’s tossed aside, sleeves rolled up as I get down into the guts of the machine. I’m doing things to this beautiful car that no mechanic ever should. The person who owns this shop would probably shit himself if they saw. It won’t run long when I’m finished, but it won’t need to.
The only thing left is to drive over to my target’s place, and wait.
Sunlight is beginning to spill over the horizon, so it won’t be too bad. A good hit usually requires a lot of waiting, but I’m accelerating this contract. I want it done fast. Normally I’d never let myself rush a job, especially not on a high profile target like a rich white guy, but I want the club free of this nuisance so they can focus on helping protect my girl.
My girl.
Bozhemoi. I’m a fucking fool. Suckered in by her pretty, good looks, her creamy skin and sweet lips. Not to
mention that wry sense of humor she has...
Just when I start coming to my senses, that maybe I’m being foolish to even toy with this relationship, she slips into my mind, like I slipped into her. And I’m as paralyzed by it now as we were in the moment. The way she gave into me when I tried to discourage her, how she sought to please me instead...
That thought gets choked off when I realize how much time has passed, and the gates to the rich prick’s property open up, his car pulling down the driveway. I can’t afford to think of pretty little Alicia, slumbering back in the motel bed. Now, it’s all business.
The car comes to life, the engine giving an uneven hum as it begins to build toward its end. Just hold on a little longer, I think to myself.
Luckily this guy drives like an old man. Despite living in the lap of luxury he handles his sporty vehicle like a porcelain doll. Edging into turns in a way that’s painful to watch. I could almost yell at him to take advantage of that beautiful car before it’s too late.
I don’t want to do this in the rich part of town. Police are probably itching to come to the rescue here, and my getaway on foot will be a nightmare. So I follow this miserable fuck into the heart of the city, into the busy downtown streets. Broad daylight.
Usually a hitman hides in the shadows, under cover of night. But time is of the essence, and sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best option.
I’m holding off a nice distance; he’s moving so slowly it’d be suspicious to even tail at my usual length. But I know my opportunity is going to come soon… and there it is. This prick’s agonizing slowness finally pays off as he’s edging around a left turn. And I have him perfectly.
I speed up, smoke licking up from beneath the hood of this beautiful vehicle as I make out as if I’m going to rush the light. I swerve right, then left, and bam! The collision does the trick, my jury-rigging of the engine comes to fruition as the hood explodes, launching forward.
Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel Page 8
