“Up,” he barked at me, slapping my ass. I somehow mustered up the strength to push up onto my knees, leaving my face and chest against the bed like a pornographic yoga pose. It was what he must have wanted, though, because he thrust back into my pussy with a grunt, and his hands gripped my hips like handlebars.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped out as he fucked me harder and deeper than before. Moans and whimpers fell from my lips without any conscious thought. The adrenaline of nearly dying was still rushing through me, making me dizzy and hyperaware of every inch of my skin. It was intense in the best kind of way. “Yes,” I encouraged between moans, “yes, fuck, harder!”
He gave me what I wanted, his hips slapping into my ass so hard I’d likely have bruises in the morning, but shit, what was a few more? The metal buckle of his belt scratched against the back of my thigh, and his short fingernails bit deeply into the flesh of my hips. I came again, muffling my own screams with a pillow, and Leon slowed his thrusts to wait me out.
God damn, his stamina was impressive.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he muttered with rough pants as my climax faded enough for me to catch my breath.
I tipped my face to the side to give him a witty retort, then stiffened when I saw my mysterious attacker move.
“Marx!” I barked. “Nine!”
Leon didn’t question me, nor did he stop fucking me. He just pulled a gun from the holster still strapped under his arm and aimed the gun at the other executioner.
“Be a pal, Bryan, and don’t move,” he drawled to the dazed and confused-looking man on the floor beside the bed. “I’m not done with my girl just yet.”
My attacker seemed resigned, like he recognized Leon and knew he was screwed. So he just gave a small incline of his head and didn’t move another muscle. He just watched.
Leon huffed a laugh and rocked his hips with his cock buried deep inside my pussy. “Babe, keep him covered. Bryan’s a sneaky bastard, but I don’t trust myself not to shoot him if I get carried away.”
He handed me the gun, and I shifted it to my uninjured hand so I could keep it steady on the bleeding man. I’d stabbed him countless times, and the growing stain on the carpet below him confirmed that I hadn’t missed. Never mind the blood dripping from his head where Leon had hit him.
“That’s it,” Leon purred, stroking a hand down my spine. “I hope your gun hand is as steady as the rumors say it is.” He leaned over and stuck two fingers into my mouth. “Suck.”
My lower belly heated, and my pussy tightened around his cock. I was no blushing virgin; I knew what he had in mind. So I did as I was told, coating his fingers in my saliva. I arched my back as he pushed a wet finger into my ass, then moaned and asked for more.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, adding his second finger and fucking my ass slowly with his hand. “So tight, DeLuna. I can’t fucking wait to get my dick in here.”
Words failed me as I rocked on my knees, breathing heavily and keeping the gun trained on Bryan. For several minutes, Leon seemed to just be testing my patience, his movements unhurried and gentle.
Bryan’s gaze shifted from the gun to Leon, and I could sense he was planning on making a move soon. Far too soon, because I was having fun, dammit.
“Marx,” I gasped out, pushing back onto his hand and dick, “smack my ass and fuck me hard. Make me scream, then come all over my pussy.”
Bryan’s eyes widened, but Leon barked a laugh. Then did what I demanded. The crack of his hand across my butt cheek made me shriek and tense up, but then he was fucking me so hard I almost fell off the bed. It was all I could do to keep the gun trained on Bryan, and even then, he must have underestimated me.
As I climaxed, panting and moaning Leon’s name, Bryan tried to make a run for it.
I shot his knee out, making him crash to the floor in a heap. Then Leon grabbed the back of my neck and fucked me so deep I could almost taste his cock in my throat.
He did exactly what I told him to do, pulling out and coming in hot spurts all over my pussy and ass, coating me in his essence. It was hot as hell.
“Don’t move,” he grunted, shifting off the bed.
I tipped my head to the side just in time to catch him taking a picture of his mess with his phone. He met my eyes as he snapped another, then just smirked. “Adding to my collection,” he told me, like that was all the explanation I could possibly need.
“Can I move now?” I asked with a teasing smile, wiggling my hips at him.
He seemed to really consider saying no, but then Bryan gave a loud groan of pain, and Leon sighed. “I suppose. Go wash up and clean those cuts. I’ll deal with our audience member.”
I was sorely tempted to stay and help, but shit… I ached all over, and my hand was bleeding freely from where the garotte wire had cut through the fleshy bit of my palm. I was a goddamn mess, and a shower sounded fan-fucking-tastic. So I yawned and climbed off the bed with shaking legs.
There was blood everywhere, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. The bigger concern would be someone calling security for that gunshot without a silencer.
Leon’s problem, not mine. I needed a shower. His possessive declarations while we’d fucked haunted me into the bathroom, though. An echo of what Kai had told me, back on the island when he thought I would never leave.
My addiction for jealous, possessive men was becoming problematic.
8
Was this even real, or had I slipped into a lucid dream? It wouldn’t be the first time, though I thought I’d solidified the line between reality and imagination some years ago. But it was almost too good to be true. This woman was too good to be real. Too perfect to be mine.
After I’d dealt with Bryan—as fast as humanly possible—I’d joined her in the shower and fucked her against the wall while the water at our feet turned red with blood. Then after we got out, she barely let me dry her off before shoving me to my knees and demanding I make her come again with my mouth and nothing else.
Forget tending to her wounds, my woman wanted to ride the high of nearly dying as long as she could, and I understood. So I knelt there on the hard tile floor and damn near suffocated myself in her sweet cunt. Her legs buckled when she came, but I caught her and lowered her gently to the floor, never taking my mouth from her throbbing core for a second. No way in hell was I spilling so much as a droplet of her sweet release.
After that, she was so exhausted and pliable that she didn’t protest when I scooped her up and took her to bed. Nor when I tended all her various wounds. None of them were too severe, the cut in her hand being the worst of them. Luckily her medical kit was fully stocked, and I closed it with glue.
For a long time after I was done, I just lay there beside her, tracing the marks on her ivory flesh with featherlight touches, not wanting to wake her. Quietly obsessed with the marks that were mine, because they came from a place of raw passion unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
“You knew him,” she murmured, startling me somewhat.
“I thought you were asleep,” I confessed, pressing my lips to her bare shoulder in a kiss.
She hummed a sound that did weird things to my chest. Made me all warm and shit. “Nearly,” she whispered, cracking her eyes open, “but I get the feeling that when I wake, you won’t be here. So I don’t want to sleep.”
I arched one brow. “That’s why you don’t want to sleep?” Because she didn’t want me to leave? Fuck. Why did I just feel like I’d been punched in the stomach by that statement?
Her lush lips curled up in a smile. “You think I’d be worried about you killing me in my sleep again? Nah, you’re too infatuated with my pussy to kill me yet.”
If that wasn’t the truth… But it was so much more than her cunt I was obsessed with, it was her. All of her. The way she’d fought back against Bryan, a seasoned executioner, or the sassy quip she threw right after she almost died. I couldn’t get enough of her. She was strong in every aspect of her personality, and I was… what had she called it? Infatuated.
That word barely scratched the surface.
“Don’t look so worried, Marx,” she told me with a wry smile, threading her fingers into my short hair and tugging my face closer. “I’m hooked on you, too.” She whispered the confession against my lips, then kissed me so perfectly. Fear shot through me, and I stiffened up.
She must have felt it, because she broke away with a sigh. “Tell me something, bunny.”
Amusement cut through my sudden wave of anxiety. “Like what?” I propped my head on my hand, looking down at her from a short distance. She was stunning, with makeup or without. Bruised and cut up, or unblemished. I liked her in every version.
Her long dark lashes fluttered, but her sapphire eyes were sharp and assessing. “Tell me something true, bunny. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone, or tell me why you locked up just now.”