Page 75 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption-

What the fuck am I supposed to do with the reality of him?

“Harry, you look at me like you’re lost. Here’s what I can give you. I don’t give a fuck if you hate me, I deserve that. But I’ll protect you. I’ll fuck you and bring you pleasure and then, when all this is done, I’ll try to let you go.”

“Will you?” I whisper.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He cups my cheek, drawing my face closer. “Maybe you’ll have to kill me after all.”

Everything in me is in free fall and he isn’t finished.

“Tell you what. I know you want to kill me, so how about I fuck you with my gun—magazine out and in your hand—and make you come, and when you come down from your orgasm, I’ll give you the gun, covered in your juices. You can load it and shoot me. Do you want that?”

Yes. No. I’m horrified… and so turned on. Not at killing him but at his words. His voice has a dark and bitter erotic edge that both calms and riles something within me.

And I think… I think I want to, but I want his cock even more.

I hate myself for that.

“Torn, aren’t you?”

“Why are you even saying this?” I whisper.

His dark-blue eyes glitter with something I’m familiar with, something like despair. “Because you want me as much as I want you. It’s called magnetic attraction, and it doesn’t matter that you think I’m from the depths of hell—you still want me.”

“And because you’re such a conundrum, is that also why I want you?”

His words laser my heart. “I’m nothing. And a lass with eyes that flash silver fire is very much the definition of something. I’m not good. Never have been, but I think you know that.”

Suddenly, he comes in close as every nerve ending sings high and long for the rough eroticism of his kiss.

But Torin goes another way.

He devastates me with a slow burn kiss of such pillowy softness that I float into the air. The eroticism is a different beast that slides in past all defenses, even if Ihave any left, and when he breaks the kiss off, I’m gasping for air. For him.

“I think I need to fuck you now.”

He stands up and strips off his clothes. He’s a marvel of manhood, perfect and real, and there, erect, ready, and all for me.

Torin slides behind me, and leaving me tied up, he plunges inside of me.

My body’s so ready for anything he’ll give, walls easily stretching for his thick cock. He withdraws and then pushes back in, sending cascades of pleasure rippling through me. There’s something about being restrained, being ordered to stay in one position, of being ignored but knowing there’s a part of him locked on to me, so much so he had to leave the room to concentrate on whatever he was doing.

Why else would he leave?

All I could think of was him.

He moves faster, hitting me deep. My pulse is hot, wild, and there’s nothing but him, moving inside me, shaping me to fit his cock.

Torin’s fingers dig into my hips and he grunts, his movements borderline animalistic, and there’s not a thing I can do in this vulnerable position except lift up to give him better, deeper access.

“Fuck, Harry. I know you want this. I’m going to take you to a club, whip you into an orgasm, and fuck you in front of the crowd. And if you’re lucky, I’ll have you whip me. How I want, need—oh shit…”

He groans low, fingers now biting hard as I come around him, clenching down on his cock as it pushes my pleasure to almost unbearable heights.

Torin whips out of me, his wet, hard cock on my ass.

My pussy clenches hard. I want him back. I want him punished if he leaves me hanging like this. I just want more.

He leans over me slowly, one hand slipping down around my hip to find the smooth skin from where I shaved my pussy. “I like this,” he whispers against my neck, licking a path up toward my ear.