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“If you’re looking for the switchblade, I already found it when I searched your room when you were taking a shower.” He winks.
“Fuck,” slips out.
“Indeed, fuck.” He laughs; it sounds crazy. The asshole is certifiable, even if half of what’s in his file is true. “You are nothing like I remember,” he says as the electricity turns on. The lamp next to him casting a warm glow across the room. My breath hitches seeing him in all his glory. The man is lethal. I can see it in the way he holds himself, the way he’s staring at me with those cold hard depths. His hair is buzzed short, and there is a deep scar running over his brow and eye down to his cheekbone. His blue gaze darts from my lips to my eyes, something is off in his stare. He spreads his thighs wider, and I have to bite back a whimper, the zipper of his dress pants is undone, his erection tenting the fabric of his black underwear. The white half dried smudge on the cotton telling me he came while he watched me pleasure myself from the shadows.
“Take a seat,” he says, motioning with his gun to the bed opposite him.
I shake my head. “Hell no.”
“It wasn’t a fucking request,” he snaps.
I grind my teeth, flashing him my middle finger. “You’re a dead man,” I spit out, and walk on unsteady feet to the edge of the bed to sit down.
He chuckles. “Still feisty. I like it. Now,” he begins, his smile turns menacing as he scratches his dark stubble with the barrel of his gun. “Open those thighs for me.” Reclining back in his seat. “Show me what I missed all these years,” he rasps, roughly palming his bulge.
“What?” I gasp, pressing my legs together. What the hell is he talking about?
“I fucking said, open up those thighs, amore.” He’s aiming the gun at me. I’ve heard that word before.
“I’m not your amore, and I’m not going to spread my thighs voluntarily for you, asshole.”
He growls and takes off both gloves not letting go of the gun, those ice blue eyes lock on mine. “I kept wondering why you chose Italy to hide out in, but then again, I was born there. Did you do it to be close to me?”
“How did you—”
He runs a hand over his erection, and my eyes flash to his big, tattooed hand. A flush creeps up my neck while my clit throbs.
“Lucky for you I like how you try to defy me, when only ten minutes ago your fingers were between your thighs, and I came in my pants like a horny teenager. It took me back,” he says, rubbing his thumb back and forth over his bottom lip.
“Asshole,” I breathe.
“Don’t give me more ideas about what I can do to your ass, amore.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek, my eyes darting to my nightstand, and the gun that’s still there.
He laughs. “Try me, I dare you, see what happens.” He moans out loud, locking eyes with me.
In a beat I reach out, but he’s on me in a second. I grab the metal and press it against his chest while he slides the cold barrel of his gun against my dripping pussy. Damn my gun feels lighter, did he empty the chamber?
His scent reaches my nose, exotic and spicy, while he increases the pressure on my clit.
“Do it, pull the trigger, see what happens,” he growls, a smile tugging on his lips. Moving his gun from left to right over my throbbing clit, he smiles and devours me with his cold stare.
I try to suppress a moan but fail as it slips out anyway.
His pupils dilate while he stares into my eyes. His nose brushes mine, his hot breath igniting my cold skin. “You like what I’m doing?” he asks with awe in his voice. “I knew you were different the second I laid eyes on you. You’re my match.”
“Hell no,” I bite out the moment he pushes my thighs wider with his knee. Looking down I see the head of his cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers. Fuck he’s big.
“See something you like?” he asks, humor shining through his deep voice, with a hint of an accent.
“Fuck you.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, baby girl,” he laughs, while I pull the trigger.
A click.
His smile falls and anger flashes in his eyes. He bares his teeth at me. The son of a bitch emptied the chamber.
