Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“Yes, that’s it,” I groan, feeling her muscles tighten as her breathing speeds up. “Come for me, ptichka. Let me feel you come.”
She cries out as I pick up my pace, and I grip her hip, squeezing the tight flesh of her ass as I hammer into her, fucking her so hard the bed creaks underneath us. I can’t get enough of her, of her silky softness and sweet scent, and I drive deeper into her body, wanting to meld with her, to sink so far into her I’d be permanently etched inside her flesh.
Her cries grow louder, more frantic, and I feel her pussy clenching, her hips rising off the bed as she reaches her peak. Her contractions are the last straw; with a hoarse shout, I explode, grinding my pelvis against hers as my cock jerks and pulses in release, flooding the condom with my seed.
Panting, I roll off her and gather her against me, holding her tight as our breathing slows. With my hunger sated, I become aware of the dull pulsing of the healing wound on my abdomen. The doctors warned me to take it easy for a few weeks, but I forgot about that, too consumed by Sara and the incandescent pleasure of possessing her.
After a minute, I get up to get rid of the condom, and when I return, Sara is sitting up in bed, her slim form wrapped in a blanket like the last time. Only today, there are no tears; her eyes are dry, her gaze locked defiantly on my face as I cross the room.
Maybe she’s beginning to accept the reality of us, to understand there’s no shame in wanting me.
“Why are you back?” she asks as I sit down next to her, and I hear the despair behind the bravado.
I was wrong. She’s still far from accepting me.
Lifting my hand, I tuck a shiny strand of hair behind her ear. With the blanket wrapped around her and her chestnut waves in disarray, my pretty doctor looks young and vulnerable, more girl than woman. Seeing her like this makes me want to protect her, shelter her from the cruelty of my world.
Too bad I’m part of that world—and maybe the cruelest of them all.
“I never left,” I answer, lowering my hand. “At least I didn’t mean to leave—not for this long. I had a job to do, but it should’ve only taken a day or two.”
“A job?” She blinks at me. “What kind of job?”
I consider not telling her, or at least glossing over some of the harsher realities of my work, but I decide against it. Sara’s opinion of me can’t get much worse, so she might as well know the full truth.
“My team carries out certain missions,” I say carefully, observing her reaction. “Jobs that few others can handle with the same level of skill and discretion. Our clients generally operate in the shadows, and so do the targets we’re paid to eliminate.”
The post-sex flush on her cheeks fades, leaving her face starkly pale. “You’re an assassin? Your team… kills people for hire?”
I nod. “Not just anyone, but yes. Our targets tend to be quite dangerous themselves, often with multiple layers of security that we have to penetrate. That’s how I ended up with this.” I point to the fresh scar on my stomach and see her eyes widen as she takes it in—likely for the first time. I doubt she got a good look at me as I was fucking her.
“How did this happen?” she asks, looking up from my stomach. Her face is even paler now, her porcelain skin taking on a greenish tint. “Is that a knife wound?”
“Yes. As to how, a moment of inattention on my part.” It still pisses me off that I didn’t see the guard behind me reach for his knife while I was dealing with his gun-wielding partner. “I should’ve been more careful.”
She swallows and studies my scar again. “If it’s so dangerous, why do you do it?” she asks after a moment, her eyes returning to my face.
“Because hiding from the authorities isn’t cheap,” I say. So far, Sara’s taking my revelation better than I expected, though I guess seeing me kill those two druggies might’ve prepared her for something like this. “The work pays extremely well, and it’s a good fit with my skill set. I used to consult for some of our clients before this, but running my own business is better. I have more freedom and flexibility—something that became important to me when I got my list.”
Her lips tighten. “The list that my husband was on?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze drops to her lap, but not before I glimpse a flash of anger in the soft hazel depths. It bothers her that I feel no remorse about that, but I’m not about to fake it. That ublyudok—that bastard husband of hers—deserved a much worse death than he received, and the only thing I regret is that he was a vegetable when I came for him. That and the fact that, for a brief instant, I hesitated before pulling the trigger.