Hitman - the Series: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Collection (Alexis Abbott's Hitmen #0)

by Alexis Abbott

  He murmurs something in his native tongue that I can’t understand, speaking more to himself than to me. “Ghmerto chemo,” he mumbles, flicking his thumb across my stiffening nipples. I push upward into his palm and he looks down at me with an almost tender gaze. But the softness fades immediately to be replaced by a mischievous grin. He pulls me up into a kneeling position so that I’m resting upright on my knees, then leans in to kiss me passionately, his tongue pushing into my mouth.

  Darios cups my face with both hands for a moment, his fingers tracing along the swell of my cheek and the curve of my jaw, then smoothing the hair back from my temples to tuck behind my ear. This fond gesture is cut short when he reaches around to grab a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back so that more of my neck is exposed. He quickly dives forward to suck a bruising, tantalizing kiss into my bare shoulder. The sensation is almost painful, but it feels nearly orgasmic in itself at the same time. He kisses a line down to my chest, where he pauses a moment to pull my dress up over my head and drop it to the side. For a moment I panic, both at the thought of being totally naked on a rooftop with a serial murderer and because I worry that my dress might blow off into the wind.

  But I don’t get much time to worry, as Darios hastily wrenches me forward, forcing me to catch myself on my palms. There’s a flash of wild desire in his eyes and he groans his pleasure at the sight of me kneeling on all fours in front of him. Instantly he gets up and walks around behind me, evidently not even the least bit worried about possibly falling off the roof. It’s pretty sturdy and horizontal, but I still would not want to risk standing up all the way just in case my center of gravity is thrown off-kilter.

  However, Darios has entirely different thoughts on his mind.

  Positioning himself behind me, he reaches around to grab my hips, maneuvering me backward so that my ass grinds against the hard outline of his cock through his trousers. He groans his appreciation and I hear the faint metallic jingle of his belt being removed and his zipper tugged down. I inhale sharply when I feel his enormous, stiffened length pressing against my ass.

  “You know I have to punish you for disobeying me,” Darios growls, running his hands over my ass cheeks. “You should have known better than to push my limits by coming up here.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, hardly able to concentrate with his cock pushed against me. “I wasn’t trying to escape — just came up here to get away for a little while.”

  “Oh yes. ‘Privacy.’ You wanted to be a dirty girl, so that’s exactly what you’re going to be.”

  In the next moment, there’s a loud slap as something hard and smooth smacks against my ass. A jolt of pain shoots through my body and I let out a yelp, but Darios only laughs as I look back at him in surprise and confusion. He’s holding his leather belt in his hands with a devilish grin on his face.

  “How many blows do you think I should give you, Delaney? How severely do you need to be punished, patara gogona?” he purrs, landing another smack of the belt. I tremble with pain, but to my surprise and faint horror, I find myself strangely excited by the prospect of receiving further punishment. I’m craving retribution. I’m longing for the pain.

  “Answer me, bavshvi. How much more do you want?” he continues, sliding the cool leather strip along the outside of my thighs.

  “Just a little more, please,” I can hear myself murmuring.

  “Can you take it?” Darios hisses. “I want to hear you beg for it. Make me punish you.”

  “Please, Darios. Please… I-I need to p-pay for what I’ve done,” I stammer, still in total disbelief at my own response to such awful treatment.

  “Very well,” he says, and lands another agonizing strike to my ass, causing me to seize up and gasp in pain even as I feel my pussy dripping with need. Darios drops the belt and slides his hands along the welts forming on my ass cheeks.

  His voice is thick and lustful when he says, “Good girl. You’ve taken your punishment so well, I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

  “Yes, please,” I reply weakly.

  And with that, he shoves the head of his erect shaft into my waiting hole, his hands gripping my waist to hold me in place. I cry out and buck backwards into him, feeling the tip of his glorious cock brushing against that deep, special place within me. Darios squeezes my hips and thrusts into me from behind, groaning my name like it’s a curse — or a prayer.

  I’ve never been touched this way, so raw and rough and wanting. But Darios slams into me hard, again and again, until we’re both gasping for air and barely holding on.

  “You love it, don’t you, little princess?” Darios growls, quickening his pace. “You love feeling me deep inside your pretty little cunt?”

  “Yes! Yes! Oh god, I love it,” I’m whimpering, my second orgasm shattering over me.

  “Diakh, bavsvi. Come for me,” he commands in a deep, gravelly tone. I can tell he’s beginning to lose control, too, his thrusts becoming deeper and more erratic. “Come for me, Delaney.”

  And almost like magic, I feel my third climax crash over me like a tidal wave. My elbows buckle and I nearly collapse forward with the rush of uncontrollable pleasure, but Darios holds me still as he continues to slam into my soaking pussy.

  With a few frenzied snaps of his hips he clutches hard at my waist and bellows, “Oh ghmert’i, Delaney! Fuck!” and he releases his hot seed inside me. He pulls out of me and flips me over, pushing me down onto my back so he can crouch over me. His dark, mysterious eyes survey my trembling body for a moment, and then he leans down to kiss me with a surprising softness.

  As he stretches out beside me on the roof, I blink up at the twinkling stars overhead. In the stillness of the moment, I search for the words to say, to fill the vast emptiness surrounding us. But I can only murmur, “It’s beautiful out here.”

  There’s a pause, and then Darios begrudgingly replies, “I suppose it is.”

  I glance over at him in the soft moonlight and see him staring up into the sky, like he’s searching for something, some secret message scrawled out in the stars. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder what he thinks of me.

  And even worse… I wonder what I’m beginning to think of him.

  11

  Darios

  This girl is keeping herself in my mind, and I’m getting frustrated that I can’t get her out.

  I’m striding through the villa, making my way into what used to be a lavish dining room that we now use for storage, occasionally coming back here to smoke or play cards. There are frescoes on the wall — giant murals painted onto the stone that are not nearly as ancient as they’re made to look, but the sorry state of the manor enhances the effect of time’s ravishing nicely.

  It’s a remarkably empty room right now, and the only company that seems to haunt me persistently is the fresh thought of Delaney. The little brat is starting to interfere with business — I’m having trouble concentrating on anything but her, and worse yet, I find myself excited by the fact.

  I turn my attention back to my phone for a moment. There’s a text on it from one of my men, alerting me about a potential informant he’s found with a link to the police. Without a second thought, I text back the go-ahead to end the informant’s life, and I know my wishes will be carried out in a matter of hours.

  I’ve built a reputation in the Georgian mafia as a man whose demands are never taken lightly. I’ve earned every ounce of the respect I’ve garnered, through both careful politicking and old-fashioned fear. I’ve risen from the ashes of a war-torn childhood to become one of the most feared hitmen this side of the Atlantic, and I’m quickly establishing a branch-empire of my own out here, free to carry on my business however I choose. When I speak, men listen.

  So why is this idle and unchallenged rich girl’s charm able to sway me?

  Putting my phone away, I step out the door onto a terrace that wraps around the side of the villa, leading to the hallway near the guest wing. As I do, I pass by a couple of my men on break, ch
atting idly over a couple of beers. I catch traces of their conversation — nothing but banter over the family back home, pretty ladies they’ve seen out in the city, and how they plan to spend the money from this haul. I give them a nod as I pass, and they respectfully rise as I walk by.

  Those men are my comrades. We’ve all had each other’s backs from the very beginning, helping and supporting one another as we carved out this strange living arrangement of ours. We grew up poor. Georgian-poor. And when we carry off these young girls for ransom, we do so knowing full well where we come from and where they came from. They’re nothing like us. They pass their time and extravagant wealth with idle playthings like cars and clothes and luxurious trips, and they care for none of it.

  That just makes me feel all the more furious over the feelings growing within me, about the undeniable care I’ve gotten for Delaney.

  It feels strange to admit it to myself. If I feel this way about a girl born into a class so very far above my own, what does that make me? A class traitor? Am I turning against my own roots, against the poverty and war-torn land that forged me into the hitman I’ve become? Have I forgotten where I come from?

  The questions that plague me as I pause to look out onto the sea before heading back inside only agitate me more. I feel like crawling outside my skin, a pent-up energy inside me desperate to get out. And the more my thoughts dwell near Delaney, the more desire I feel for her.

  When I took her captive, I found a certain pleasure in being able to toy with someone who was so far above my station in upbringing — humbling the globe-trotting cheerleader and giving her a taste of subjugation. Now, though, so much more excites me about her. She’s cleverer than she realizes or cares to realize. Even that infuriates me. Her natural talents would get a Georgian woman farther in life than most could ever aspire to, but Delaney has been content to squander it all on idle distractions.

  But there’s something in her beyond that. Something is making her realize that there’s more to life than what she has. I wonder whether she’s truly realizing from this time in captivity how much she could get out of life, and how much of it truly matters.

  I roll my eyes at my own thoughts. I have neither time nor patience to hold this young woman’s hand through self-discovery, but I could hold her hand through other things.

  I find myself slowing down as I pass by her door, my eyes drifting to it for a moment. Part of me wants to go inside, chat with her, get to know her more like I did on the rooftop in the moonlight. My mind started to tell me things I should share, maybe to test whether there really is something to this girl I’ve developed annoying affections for.

  But as I raise my hand to the door, a sound gives me pause, and I lean in, furrowing my brow. I can hear something moving against bedsheets, a rhythmic sound I’d recognize anywhere, and the stifled sounds of gasps. A smile comes across my face, and I feel my cock stiffening in my pants.

  Without warning, I push the door open and step in to her surprised gasp.

  Delaney withdraws her errant hand from between her thighs, pulling the sheets of her bed up to cover herself with a bright-red face as I step forward, my smile splitting into a grin as I close the door behind me.

  “Darios!” she gasps, closing her legs despite her cherry-red face, “could you at least knock?!”

  “Clearly I shouldn’t,” I say, taking in the sight of her. And what a sight it is. She’s stripped her dress off, leaving herself in her underwear as she tries to ‘entertain’ herself in bed. “Especially when my girl is getting up to no good like this.” I step closer to the bed, looming over her as she looks up at me.

  “Well…” she stammers, biting her lip as she claws for an excuse, “it’s not like I have anything else to pass the time with. You could have at least given me a Kindle to read on or something.”

  “Listen to you,” I growl, crossing my thick arms. “You get bored, so you find such a sinful thing to kill time with,” I say as I take her chin in my hands, but she pulls her head away, her face a defiant pout. “And when I walk in on you, you complain that I haven’t gotten you enough trinkets to distract you with?”

  “You almost make it sound like I’m staying here voluntarily,” she replies, an edge to her voice that I recognize as her testing me. The girl likes to play with fire. I can imagine what she was thinking of when she was touching herself. I’m wearing a white button-down that’s partly unbuttoned for the heat and rolled up to my elbows. My pants are brown, and my stubble has grown past the point where I’d usually shave it.

  “I wonder,” I say, tilting my head to the side, “does your dad let you get away with this kind of misbehaving?”

  “Hey!” she protests, but I take a step forward, putting a knee on the bed, and her eyes widen, making no move to stop me.

  “Does he let you make these kinds of demands without any punishment? Does he just let you touch yourself whenever you like?” My voice is teasing, but her face is blushing furiously, her mouth falling open a little, at a loss for words in the haze that is her mind right now. She’s already keyed up from what she was doing to herself. All I’m doing now is torturing her further.

  “He never stops me from anything,” Delaney says to my surprise, and I can hear the tinge of disappointment in her voice. A feeling I plan to amend.

  “Well then, chemo okro,” I say, unbuttoning my shirt after kicking my shoes off, “what makes you think I’ll do the same?”

  “I’m not running away,” she says, her voice barely more than a breath as she looks up at me, her reclining form taunting my every nerve, “so what are you going to do to stop me?”

  I toss my shirt aside and reach down, my iron grip taking a hold of the front of her panties with both hands and ripping the fabric apart, to Delaney’s gasp. “That was my only pair!” she yelps, looking up at me with wide eyes.

  “If you’re so set on finding dirty ways to have fun,” I growl into her ear, feeling the shiver down her back, “then you won’t be needing those, will you?”

  She looks up at me, her body practically trembling with need and desire for me. Her hand starts to move up to my rippling abs, but I grasp her by the wrist as she does, pulling her close to me. “Do you really think I’d reward you for behaving so disrespectfully?”

  “I-” she stammers, “I’m sorry, I-”

  “You just thought you’d get everything you asked for sweetly, like the spoiled little daddy’s girl you know you are,” I finished for her, leaning forward, holding her hand close, so very close to the chest she wants to run her hands over so dearly. “But I think I’m tired of seeing you get what you want so easily, princess.” I lean in, whispering into her ear. “You’ll have to beg me for what you want.”

  Before she can reply, I slip my hand under the small of her back and lift her up, spinning her around so that her back is to me.

  “You can’t make m-” she starts, but I cover those pretty lips with my hand, drawing her into my chest and grinning into her neck as I let my teeth tease along the sensitive skin, feeling her heart race.

  “You spoiled little brat,” I growl into her ear as she breathes through her nose, her eyes closed as I grip her thigh with my other hand, “you think just because you’ve been taunting me with that tight ass and ruby lips all this time that I’d give you anything you wanted?” I let out a quiet laugh, sliding my hand up to her hips, brushing over her wet lips only a moment before pulling her ass back to feel my stiff, needy cock. “The world’s been your plaything your whole life, but I’m going to make you mine.”

  My words are accented by a slap on her asscheek, a sharp sound that makes her whimper, my hand still over her mouth. “Now, sykhaara, what do you ask of me?”

  I release her mouth, and she gasps before finding her voice. “I...take my bra off,” she says weakly.

  I slip my finger into her pussy, hooking it inward and making her gasp. “What do you say?”

  “P-please,” she begs, music to my ears, “I want to feel you all over me an
d inside me. Please, Darios,” she manages, and I withdraw my finger, a low rumble in my chest as I draw my hand up her side in reward, and her back arches to meet it.

  “Good girl,” I whisper in a low husk as my fingers unhook her bra and let it fall to the floor.

  My hands reach around and grope her breasts, and she lets out a sigh as I revel in the feel of her stiff nipples under my hands, taking in every inch of her sensitive flesh before bringing my fingers to the nipples themselves and rubbing them, watching Delaney’s mouth open wide as the feeling shoots through her body.

  “Most people have sensitive tits,” I growl into her ear, “but it’s even better for you, isn’t it?” She doesn’t respond, knowing I’ve found a weak spot so quickly, and my teeth go to her neck as my fingers torment her nipples, and she lets out a gasp. I’m not even touching her wet cunt as I stimulate her, moving my fingers back and forth, in circles, gently flicking the erect nipples of her small breasts, her whole body stiffening in desire for me.

  I suck at the flesh of her neck, my teeth grazing her skin and making her try to squirm away from me, but I don’t allow it. “Oh no, princess,” I say, “you asked for this, and you’re going to get it.” She lets out a gasp as I attack her again, thumbs flicking her tits and toying with them between my thumb and forefinger.

  She feels me start to laugh as I brush against her neck. “What? Don’t laugh at me!” she whines.

  “It’s funny,” I say, “you were so terrified of my threat of keeping you for myself…” I bring a hand to her shoulder and bend her over and she takes in a breath for what’s about to come. “...but here you’re already giving yourself to me.”