by Sybil Bartel
“All right, fine.” I could practically see her throw her hands up. “You felt good, really good.”
I smiled, but I still fucking waited.
“Oh my God,” she groaned. “You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?”
Damn fucking straight. I took a step to up the ante.
“Goddamn it.” Thin arms wrapped around my waist. “André, stop!”
“You seeing if I’m gonna fight for you, chica?” I turned and pulled her naked body against mine. “You testing me?”
“Fuck.” She exhaled and melted into me. “No.”
“Good.” I kissed the top of her head. “Work it out, chica.” I pulled back enough to look down at her. “Because this is happening.”
“I kinda hate you.”
I laughed. “You’re gonna have to do better than that to insult me, woman.” She’d pushed me away so many times, it was becoming background noise. I’d told her I wouldn’t touch, but I’d never promised to stop coming at her. I couldn’t back off now if I tried, not after tasting her sweet submission under me.
She buried her head against my chest. “I don’t want to insult you… unless you deserve it.”
“Damn, chica.” I held her tighter and chuckled. “I knew you had a soft side.”
“It’s an illusion.”
My smile dropped. “Don’t pretend with me.” I stroked her soft hair. “I don’t want that for you.” She could be any damn way she wanted. She deserved that much. I didn’t think anyone deserved anything in life. I grew up knowing you had to work for it. But this woman? She definitely didn’t deserve the lot she was born into, and she sure as hell didn’t need to pretend to be anyone except who she was.
“Why are you so nice?”
I sucked in a deep breath and kept my fucking mouth shut.
She looked up at me. “You’re not answering.”
I wasn’t nice. I shut down. “Time to go.” Pulling back, I dragged a thumb over her lower stomach and the dried remains of my seed. “No shower. Get dressed.” I wanted my mark on her.
“That’s it?”
I picked my clothes up off the floor. “Not by a long shot.” I winked, but my jaw ticked at the double meaning.
She didn’t miss a beat. “Long shot? Like from a sniper’s rifle?”
I stepped into my boxers with her scent all over me. “More like a chance in hell.”
She eyed me. “Hell, huh?”
I crowded into her personal space and cupped one of her heavy breasts. “You gonna get dressed, chica?” I rubbed her nipple, and it pebbled under my touch. “Or do you want me to dress you?” After I fucked her again.
“You think you’re not nice.”
I twisted her other nipple. “Is this nice?”
She grabbed my balls. “Is this?”
Mierda. I held back my shock, barely. “Could be.” I didn’t fucking move, because it could also be the worst mistake I ever made.
“And this could be the part where you tell me the truth.” She reached into my boxers and wrapped her fingers around my junk.
I pulsed in her hand. “I always tell you the truth.”
She stroked me, hard. “Why don’t you think you’re nice?” She cupped my bare balls and squeezed just enough.
Hijo de puta. “Your coercion tactics need practice,” I lied.
“If you’re not nice, we have a problem.”
We already had a problem. “Yeah? How’s that?” If she didn’t move her hand, she was gonna see how big of a problem.
She let go of me, and her expression turned haunted as fuck. “Because you’re the only good thing in the whole damn world I believe in right now.”
Jesucristo.
I grabbed her face and slammed my mouth over hers. My heart pounding, my dick throbbing, I kissed her.
I wasn’t worthy of her faith. I’d been a paid assassin for the US government. I wasn’t commendable. I wasn’t even good. I’d done my job without hesitation, and I’d take every single one of those lives again if I had to. That wasn’t someone who deserved to be her hero. But in that moment, I didn’t care about the shit I’d done in the name of freedom.
I just fucking wanted her.
I sank my tongue into her sweet mouth and took control. Curving my body around hers, I kissed her like I was starving for her. Hard, demanding, not giving her an inch of retreat, I consumed her.
Walking her backward, I broke the kiss only to push her down on the bed. Her lips wet, her nipples hard, my cum all over her, she wasn’t beautiful. She was stealing my fucking sanity.
“Spread your legs,” I ordered.
Slow, controlled, her sexy thighs spread. But she didn’t stop there. As if she knew every fucking fantasy in my head, she ran a finger through her wet cunt and circled her clit.
Growling, I dropped to my knees and slid my hands under her ass. Yanking her toward me, my mouth landed on her and I sank my tongue in to her pussy.
“Ahhhh!” Her feet landed on my shoulders as her fingers clawed at my short hair.
I thrust my tongue deeper, then licked up to her clit and sucked hard. Pulling it between my teeth, rubbing my tongue in a tight circle, I shoved two fingers into her.
She flew up into a sitting position. Wrapping her hands around the back of my head, bucking against my mouth, she didn’t groan, she fucking snarled like an animal.
I curved my fingers and stroked her G-spot.
“André!”
Her cunt constricted around my fingers, and her desire dripped down my hand. I didn’t let up. Thrashing her clit, vibrating my hand inside her, I took her fucking release and kept going.
“Oh my God, oh my God.” Her legs shaking, she fell back to the bed, aftershocks ripping through her sexy-as-hell body.
I wanted more.
My fingers still deep, I sucked her clit. “Not God, chica. Me.” My dick a fucking rocket, I kissed my way to her tits. Pulling her nipple between my teeth, I did to it what I did to her clit.
A high-pitched gasp escaped her lips, and her legs drew up, giving me room.
I fucking smiled.
Lowering my weight to her and grinding my hips, I rubbed my cock through her wet folds. “You taste like fucking heaven, chica.” Sinking my tongue into her mouth, it took all my self-control not to ram into her at the same time.
She moaned into my mouth.
Fisting myself, I gently pushed into her.
“Stop,” she panted.
My dick an inch inside her, I paused. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”
Her hands moved to the back of my neck as I watched her fight to focus. “Why….” She sucked in a breath, then her gorgeous eyes zeroed in on me. “Why aren’t you nice?”
I stilled.
She tightened her grip on me. “Tell me.”
My nostrils flared, my jaw ticked, and I did what I never did. I gave her the truth. “Because I’m a killer.” Scout Sniper. Trained and honed. Two hundred and fifty-seven kills.
“Since the Marines?”
I’d killed since I’d gotten out, but I didn’t fucking tell her that.
“Answer me,” she demanded.
“Because of the Marines,” I bit out.
“Good.” She pushed her hips up. “I need a killer.”
I shoved into her.
HE SANK INSIDE ME, AND I didn’t care who we were.
I didn’t care that he didn’t have a condom on, or that our time had an expiration date. He drove into me like a man possessed, and it felt so fucking good, I didn’t care about anything else.
Except killing River.
“Hey,” André barked, grabbing a handful of my hair.
My focus snapped to heated brown eyes. I didn’t beg. For anything. But this man who was willing to risk his life for me, who was driving into me like he gave a fuck whether or not I lived, he made me want to beg. “Harder,” I pleaded.
“You with me?”
I didn’t know how he read me so well, but he did. “Yes.” No
w I was.
He thrust deep then settled his weight on me. “Give it up,” he demanded.
“Give what up?” I didn’t have anything worth a damn except my head.
“Say it,” he growled, inadvertently grinding against my clit.
Oh my God, he felt so good. “Say what?” I reached for his hips and thrust mine up.
“Why you need a killer.”
I stilled. Wasn’t it obvious? “I don’t want to die at a stranger’s hands.”
His face contorted with disgust and disbelief, then his expression twisted with anger, and he forgot to swear in Spanish. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He pulled out, pushed himself off me and put his dick back in his boxers. “Are you fucking serious?”
“If it comes down to it.” That’s why I’d chosen to live with Candle. That’s why I’d worked for André and Candle’s ruthless friend, Talon. They were my security blanket. Men willing to take a mercy shot.
André shoved off the bed, and incredulous anger made his voice even more abrasive. “I’m not killing you.”
He would. If it boiled down to a choice, I knew he’d take the shot. He’d been a sniper. He knew hard decisions. “You would if I asked.”
He dragged his hands over his head. Then he sucked in a breath like he was trying not to fucking throttle me. “First of all, I’m not having this conversation. You’re not dying on my watch.” He leveled me with a look I was sure his men would’ve backed down from. “Second, this shit ends now. If you have some sick fucking deal with Candle to pull the trigger under any circumstances, call it off.” He snatched his cell off the nightstand and threw it on the bed next to me. “Right fucking now.”
I glanced at the phone. Half of me was marveling at the speed with which he’d put two and two together, but the other half was pissed as hell at his dominant bullshit and self-serving attitude.
I crossed my arms. “You have no fucking clue what it’s like to live with a bounty on your head.”
“Yes, I do,” he snapped.
I snorted. “Right.” Fucking prick.
“The second I took out my first target downrange, I had a price on my head. All snipers do,” he ground out. “The enemy didn’t just know my name, they knew my fucking rank, height and build. They knew my distance preferences, my spotter’s wife’s name and my fucking nickname. They didn’t just want me dead. They wanted me tortured, splayed and dragged through the streets. But guess what?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “I still did my job, every damn day, because my men counted on me. So, if you’re gonna pull that bullshit about a mercy shot, find some other asshole to buy into your fucked-up brand of crazy.” He shoved his legs into his pants. “I didn’t take you for a fucking coward.” He picked his boots up and walked out.
Stunned, I sat there for a second.
Then I got mad. Irrationally, self-indulgently mad.
Naked, my tits bouncing, I stormed down the stairs after him. “Bounty or not, you had a whole goddamn army behind you!” I yelled at his back.
“Marines, not Army. Get your fucking military branches straight if you wanna insult me.” He shoved his boots on without even looking at me.
“Oh, excuse me,” I fumed. “You had soldiers protecting you. How many were deployed with you? Thousands?” I dripped bitter sarcasm.
He spun and got in my face. Looking pissed as fuck, he lowered his voice to a lethal warning. “Listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once. The Army has soldiers. The Navy has seamen. The Air Force has airmen. But the Marines? We. Are. Marines,” he growled.
The distinctive sound of a garage door opening filled the house.
André didn’t even hesitate. As if reaction times were drilled into him, he grabbed his 9mm off the coffee table.
“Upstairs, now,” he barked. “Get dressed and lock the door.” He didn’t wait to see if I listened. He was already moving toward the garage stairs.
“André—”
He spared me once glance. “Not now, Kendall.”
The use of my name stung. And as I looked at him, gun out, ready to take a bullet for me, I realized what a fucking bitch I’d been. “Be careful.”
He tipped his chin, but he still looked pissed as hell at me. “Go.”
I didn’t know who else besides Neil had the code to get into his garage, but I didn’t want to be standing around naked to find out. I ran upstairs and locked the master bedroom door before scrambling for clothes. Digging through the few things I’d brought, I hesitated.
I hadn’t thought about my clothes for years. Once I’d moved in with Candle, I’d paid attention to what the women in the club wore, then I took it up a notch just because I could. No one was dictating what I wore anymore, and Candle never said shit, so I figured I was good. I had no sense of fashion. The shifts I wore growing up were nothing more than that, a shift of cloth meant to be a dress that was probably River’s version of easy access. None of us wore underwear, and it was never an issue until I’d gotten my period.
A memory flared, and I sucked in a breath.
The cramping in my lower stomach intensified as I crouched in one of the small gardens and pulled weeds. Setting the errant shoots on my lap, I saw it. Fresh blood soaked my dress between my legs and I gasped.
One of the women I was working with, Persephone, looked over. She took in the stain forming between my legs, and for a split second, her face crumpled before she hid it with a smile and held her hand out to me. “Come, Decima. This is a joyous day. Let us go see River.”
“No.” Panic consumed me. I’d been hiding the fact that I’d gotten my period for months now. I knew I didn’t have much more time before one of the women questioned me. I was fifteen, and my sixteenth turn around the sun was next month.
“It is all right. You are fine. This is as it should be. Come, let us go see our holy one.”
I wrapped my arms around my aching stomach. “Why?” I’d heard rumors why.
Her smile widened, but tears filled her eyes. “You are a woman now. He will want to know.”
Before I could run back to our building and find my birth mother, Persephone stood and grabbed my arm. Locking her fingers in a death grip around my wrist, she yanked me to my feet.
“No.” I reached for an excuse. “I cannot let anyone see my soiled clothes.”
She tsked, dragging me down the path. “It is a joy. Do not be selfish. You will share this great news.”
My head down, tears started to fall, but not before I saw all the women look at my dress then look away as if I were as vile as the sinners outside the compound. “No, please,” I begged. “Not now. Let me see Alathena first.” Not that she would help me, but maybe I could hide.
Persephone laughed. “Do you not think Alathena wouldn’t immediately bring you to our holy one herself?”
I didn’t know what my birth mother would do. After fifteen years of sharing living quarters with her, she was as unpredictable as the wind. If you were not one of the brothers calling in the evening, she had little time for you.
Desperate, I asked her to let me go again. “Please, Persephone. Let me right myself.” I didn’t want to see River. After last month and what he had done to Tarquin, I hated River.
“Nonsense.” She shoved me up the step and pushed the door open to the main building as she called out for permission to enter. “Entrance humbly requested, hunter. I bring a newly formed sapling for River.”
Dread washed over me like the hundred-pound weight of the sick blanket the women buried you in if your lungs coughed. “Please,” I whispered, trying to tug my arm back.
Her fingers dug into my flesh as one of the young hunters stepped to the entrance.
Hero barely looked down his broad chest at Persephone. “He is in chambers.”
Persephone held my arm up and indicated my dress then spoke in a super sweet voice I hadn’t heard before. “My apologies, Hero, but I have Decima, and she will need… attention. Should I bring her to the men’s chambers and let them decide?”
>
I jerked my arm back when she mentioned the building no child was allowed in.
Persephone smiled and grabbed me again. “As you can see, she is reluctant.” She lowered her voice. “She may be a dissident.”
Hero cut his cold, unfeeling gaze to me. “You. Inside.” He barely stepped back.
Persephone squeezed my arm so tight, fingermarks would form. “Do not fight them,” she hissed in a harsh whisper before pushing me inside.
I moved past Hero, but my shoulder brushed against his chest. The memory of Tarquin’s screams from last month after he had been hauled away for giving me a spring daisy were still fresh in my head. I shrank back in horror from Hero. “I’m s-sorry.” I was not allowed to make advances toward men, nor they toward me.
Hero’s angry glare cut to me, and I sucked in a breath. He was beautiful like a sunrise, with his golden hair and blessed features. All the women spoke of him. With shameful smiles and hushed giggles, they made silly wishes of forever love. I’d never done anything except avoid the hunter and his cold stare. But suddenly closer to him than I’d ever been, my heart beat in an erratic pattern I didn’t recognize, and my womb ached beyond the monthlies defiling my body.
Scared, confused, my tongue betrayed me. “I m-m-meant no disrespect.”
His scowl increased. “Can you not speak?”
I filled my lungs and prayed for a voice. “Yes, my apologies, hunter. I am merely nervous.” Addressing him by his title was a risk.
His gaze quickly cut away but not before I saw something shift. “Stand in the corner.” His tone softened marginally. “Wait.” He strode across the bare space to the inner chambers and knocked on another door. A rifle strapped to his back, a handgun in a holster at his waist, hunters were the only ones allowed to wear clothing made off the compound. Fatigues covered his tall frame, and until this very moment, I’d had nothing except humble respect for his dress. But seeing the zip ties, knife and other items on his person that I’d never paid attention to, a new kind of fear filled my chest and choked my throat.
The door cracked, and I saw another hunter, but it was River’s voice that filled the chamber. “What is it?” he demanded. “I said no interruptions.”
“New sapling, sir,” Hero stated.
