Page 23 of The Mafia Assassin’s Redemption (Mafia Obsession #2)

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harry

I don’t want to beg. I don’t.

And I don’t want to beg him .

But how can I not? I’m burning up for his touch, craving it like an addict.

What do you think?

The words roll through me, feeling me up, taunting. I can’t get my thoughts to focus on anything other than him.

What do I think?

Oh God. I can’t. I know I want him, need him. Or maybe I’m just going to lose whatever’s left of my mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block him out as he stands over me. But I can’t keep them closed. His shadow is somehow like the sun, warming me.

And yet he refuses to give me what I need to even breathe… his touch.

“You know,” he murmurs, “this suits you.”

I’m being pulled apart and rebuilt. The voice that haunted me and gave me nightmares is now beautiful and low. The lilt is perfection as it dances against me, bringing innuendo to even the mundane .

He’s the man who killed my family. I can’t want him and yet I do.

So badly. Even with what he said to me earlier, even if I could believe that, how can I forgive him?

Too many years have packed so much into the grooves and scars on my soul and heart.

I can’t. And with that, I shouldn’t want him. Yet I do.

“Toys, latex, lace. All things I want you to wear under your loose clothes. You’re a dirty little thing at your soul. And so fucking pristine. I love dragging you down to where it’s dark, hot, and fun.”

I shake, my pussy so horribly empty, and the other thoughts slip away again.

Toys? I want him.

“You’ve been doing God’s work in that church,” he says, voice still the seductive softness that caresses my skin. “Helping people like Salvatore’s wife. That’s why Bernardo was there. Oh, sweet Harry, I should never have set you up with the bleeding heart Father Dermott.”

He keeps talking but my mind is all over the place. I’d watched him when he was in the room, slouching like a well-dressed demon in his shirt and vest, looking like a Hollywood dream. Those Celtic crosses on his inner wrists showing when he took off his cuff links are so fucking sexy.

And then when he walked out of the room, there was something so explosively erotic about him leaving me here alone, I came.

Even now, my senses flutter, all on a knife edge of mind-blowing pleasure.

I want that pleasure. I want to drown in it.

And I don’t want to think about anything else other than him inside of me.

He comes down so his face is near mine. “Get up, Harry. On your forearms.”

I struggle to do what he wants. He doesn’t help. He just watches. A bolt of fury slices through me, but even that has another, erotic side.

But I fucking manage to do what he says, and he slides down to sit on the floor. We’re eye to eye as he finishes his drink before setting it down. In that moment, the gentle rock of the boat rolls through me as we stare at each other.

Then he leans in and kisses me, the tang of whiskey dancing on his tongue.

He slides a lock of hair from my face. “Tell me something, do you still hate me?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Still blame me?”

“Yes.” How can I not?

Those blue eyes burn into me. “But you want me to finger you, don’t you?

To lick you, tongue you, fuck you? You want to do anything and everything to bring me pleasure, so you get yours right back.

Would you have me fuck your cunt, ass, and mouth if you got to have another orgasm? You would. You know it. I know it.”

I loathe him. I have to. It’s the one thing that’s kept me strong, sane. Somewhat. And I need to cling to that, especially now, when he’s both the man I thought—strong, frightening, lethal—and so much more—family oriented, complex, sexual, smart, and occasionally funny.

What the hell am I supposed to do with all of that?

I look at him, drowning in lust, and he rubs his thumb lightly against my lower lip.

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 I have 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.

Torin strokes lower, slowly over my clit.

The boat rocks and it’s like my orgasmic aftermath has spread into the air and soaked into our surroundings.

“Torin?” It’s a half plea. He’s not trying to get me off, not trying to soothe me, and the stroke of his fingers is delicious, like the start of something that’s idling.

“Harry. I’m going to take your ass, and later, your mouth. You’re mine.”

The word no whispers through my head, as does the word yes .

“And there’s only one fucking way to get out of that.”

“I’m not killing you to atone you,” I yelp.

He laughs against my neck, lips brushing my damp skin. “I’ll have to taunt you into it. Unless you’re telling me you like me now?”

“Never.”

The pressure changes.

And the air gets thicker.

Neither of us moves.

But then he breaks that spell, moving his hand so he now strokes me to my hip. Then he pulls back and pushes a finger slowly into my ass.

The sudden intrusion startles me. My body clamps down to stop his invasion.

Torin stops but doesn’t withdraw. “This is happening, Harry. Unless there’s an emphatic no, then this is happening.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Relax. This part here can hurt, but I have it on great authority it’s also an insane area of pleasure, full of nerve endings, so relax and just let me in.”

Whoever his great authority is goes immediately into my hate pile. Because whoever she is better not come around when he’s with me.

If I’m trapped, so is Torin.

If he’s going to turn me into his plaything to order around, then I’m his only project.

I grit my teeth and focus on relaxing because those thoughts are so disturbing. To my shock, he’s already got a second finger in there, pumping slowly, moving them apart to stretch my tight hole, and it’s nice. Good.

Maybe I want more after all.

Torin pulls his fingers free, whispering, “You’re a delight when you behave, Harry.”

“You have me tied up; I have no choice.”

The head of his cock replaces his fingers and it’s a hell of a lot bigger. He pushes in slowly. “You can rebel.”

“Is that you giving permission?” I pant, because the man’s big. I’m not sure about size specifically, but he feels big. Like he shouldn’t be in this part of me big. And yet… it feels good.

When he hits deep, where he can’t go farther, my body’s full and alive in ways I don’t quite understand. It’s like when he’s in my pussy, but different, like he’s hitting some of the same places and a lot of new ones.

“Stating a fact.”

He starts to move.

Oh God. This is different, good, but so odd. Odd because my pussy’s empty and my clit throbs for him. Something deep in me starts to swell and grow and bloom. I thrust back against him, beckoning him to get me to wherever these sensations want to take me .

But Torin’s evil and he keeps his pace with long, smooth thrusts.

The moans break free, and I start to push back to meet his rhythm, to urge each thrust harder, rougher.

He gives me what I want. I’m so lost in the swirling, growing moment, where pure thrumming pleasure engulfs, and I come so hard in giant pulses that I scream and bite down on the bedding.

But Torin’s not finished. Now he’s unleashed and he pushes me into another, smaller orgasm with his wild ride.

He thrusts in, his cock swelling, and then he spurts into me, his cock twitching as he fills me. Finally, he pulls out, collapses onto the mattress next to me, and carefully, like I’m made of glass, turns me over and kisses me.

“You want the tie off?”

“No.”

I don’t quite know why I say that. If I’m bound, I’m bound to him, to his heat. My eyes are heavy, and I want to stay here a while.

So I bury my head in his shoulder as he pulls me close and I realize that through all of that, from when he tied me up to now, I never once thought of the shootings at the car, of the people Torin must have killed. Or that I don’t even know why it happened.

I didn’t once think about the fact that he’d killed for me.

What have I become?