Page 93 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption-

He looks down. “So fucking wet. You hate me, you want me dead, but I think you just might want me more.”

I can’t speak as he strokes over me, parting my pussy lips but not entering me. He then wraps his lips around my clit. It’s sublime and so dirty, a thing of such pleasure I might lose my mind from the crash of euphoria that consumes me.

He goes slow, sucking softly, and then he builds the pressure, his tongue pushing against that sensitive bud, and as I start to orgasm, he lifts his head and blows on me, spiraling me into want and need and insanity.

“I’m going to destroy you,” he says, the words filtering through my haze. “I won’t mean to. And you’ll destroy me, too.”

Then he goes down again, sucking me untilI explode. Pleasure engulfs me, drags me into the waters that lap and swirl over me.

When I come down, he’s already stripping down, heading to the bathroom. I follow like a puppy.

“What was all that?”

He doesn’t look at me as he climbs in the shower. “What was what?”

“Everything you just said to me.”

“The truth.”

My legs buckle. He swears and pushes open the glass door, wraps a hand around my arm, and pulls me into the shower. The hot needles of water fall on us and his bodywash smells like the devil is out to seduce. Or maybe the seduction is him, I don’t know.

Torin cups my face and kisses me, and I don’t even notice he’s stripped me of my dress and bra until my naked flesh meets his.

It’s a kiss of false romance, one with a shattered heart in the middle. His? Mine? I don’t know. Maybe a bit of both. But I kiss him back, the gentle savagery of it soothing, and if someone asked me in this second what I wanted, I wouldn’t be able to tell them.

Or maybe this is similar to when he has me on my knees, when he spanks me or ties me up. It’s a moment out of time, and I just exist within it.

I relax as he slowly breaks the kiss, sprinkling my wet skin with tiny ones until he’s just holding me in the water.

“Turn,” he whispers against my ear as he starts to wash me. There’s a sensual element to the way the sponge moves over my skin, between my thighs, over my breasts, stomach, and the back of my neck.

I’m on edge, on a precipice, a slow throbbing inside that’s like he’s both taunting me and soothing me.

I think it’s me.

For all my confused feelings, he’s right.

I want him.

I hate him, I might be half in love with him, and I want him.

I stand, not moving, and then I quietly slip out of the shower.

What the hell do I do with that? What?

Torin doesn’t look at me as he dresses all in black and heads down the stairs. And I’m fine with that.

I swallow. This is some kind of Stockholm syndrome shit. Some kind of weird-ass thing that isn’t real. Because someone almost killed me. Because Torin saved me, helped me with the flowers like he knew I just needed someone there. Like…

“Like you’ve lost your mind.”

But still, those feelings, bundled and tangled and complicated, remain.

The footsteps on the stairs from the basement hook into me and I stand up from the sofa, waiting… I don’t even know what for. Him?

“I have to do something,” he mutters, and I wait for more. “But you still need to be punished. So I’m going to take you out to really show you what sub life is.”

“What do you mean?”