Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman) by Nicole Fox (classic fiction TXT) 📗

I feel her thighs quiver and tighten around my head, I know she’s there. She comes hard, crying out in pleasure. I soak up every sound, cruel with the way my tongue strokes her clit.

She finally rolls onto her back, tired, but I’m only just getting started. There are no breaks with me. I’ve wanted her every single night since we’ve been here, and I’m going to take her. Without missing a beat, I unzip my pants and free myself from the confines. I stroke my cock a few times, working myself in my palm.

I press the tip against Lucy’s entrance, feeling the impossible heat send shivers down my spine. With one slow, long push, I bury myself inside of her pussy, up to the hilt of my erection. Her eyes flutter shut, and she takes in a sharp breath, releasing it as a moan between her teeth. There’s something unspeakably sexy about see this transformation. Lucy from the living room, writing on that legal pad, is now this sex kitten practically mewling for me in the backyard.

I work up a steady pace at first, pulling my hips back and then thrusting forward, filling her again. Her body grows more and more relaxed. She stares up at me with a devilish look in her eye, something that looks so out of place and also right where it belongs with her.

She’s gonna be the fucking death of me, I swear.

I take hold of her hips and begin jerking her towards me as I push forward, fucking her faster than before. A deep, animalistic groan rumbles in my throat, and I let it free, burying my face in the crook of her neck. There, I can feel her pulse, taste as it beats a thousand times a minute. Lucy wraps her legs around my waist, and soon I have little room to move.

I make do with it, my thrusts becoming shorter and quicker. Our bodies connect again and again. I feel her walls constricting around me and it sends chills through me. Fuck, everything she does has that effect on me.

I’m going to lose my goddamn mind with this woman, and I don’t even care. She makes the idea of being distracted sound like the only thing in the world that I want.

With short, sudden bursts of energy, I pound into her, eliciting quicker noises from her throat. She turns her head and kisses me, and that’s when I feel the heat building in my stomach. Her tongue glides over mine, and it’s just the two of us. She’s the only thing that matters.

I come harder than I have in months. I fill her in a frenzy, grinding against her, burying every last inch I can inside of her. Her hold on me doesn’t loosen once. She keeps me firmly against her, helping me ride that wave.

I don’t want to pull out of her.

I want to lie here in the grass until I’m hard and ready for another round.

Lucy makes me want to do the dumbest shit, but I can’t find it in me to complain. When I go soft and slip free, I roll onto my back and pull her into my arms. This is so fucked. I’m so fucked. Every time this happens, I realize that I’m sinking deeper and deeper into this trap.

This is why I should’ve never gone this far with her. This is why I have these rules. I start to scold myself when she tilts her head and looks up at me. There’s a warm flush of pink on her cheeks, and her smile is radiant. She looks fucking beautiful.

The killer instinct I’ve developed is wary. Anything so beautiful that’s attracted to me must be dangerous. Anything that makes me consider giving up everything should repel me. Instead, she makes me want more. She’s addictive, like my new favorite drug. I need to get a fucking grip.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

For one delusional moment, I consider telling her all of this.

If I’m honest, maybe it’ll scare her away. She’ll see that I’m not the kind of guy she belongs with. Anyone that considers her a trap should turn her off completely. But the idea of her being hurt by saying that doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me feel guilty for even considering it.

Guilt is an emotion I thought I killed after taking out Aleksandr and Andrei. If I’m feeling it now, maybe I’m not as emotionless as I thought. Maybe I need to really cut deep and end things while there’s still time.

Lucy looks up at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Nothing is wrong,” I reply, running a hand over her face. It’s a lie, but she deserves to be spared. She’s already been through hell because of me. This is one mercy I can give her for now.

Chapter Twelve

Roman

Things with Lucy have become so domesticated. It’s a foreign concept for me. My whole life, I grew up on my own. Nobody to look after me, nobody to just be there. Aside from just seeing my family every day, this was the one thing I missed the most. I missed knowing that if I ever needed something, I’d have someone willing to help.

Lucy has become that person.

In the mornings, she wakes up earlier than me. There’s a pot of coffee on, and breakfast is on the table. I never have to think about what I’m going to eat because she has it covered. We’ve worked up that kind of rhythm, and it’s surprisingly nice getting used to it. I try hard to hate it, to put myself off it so I don’t become accustomed, but I can’t.

After breakfast, she writes, and I work out. This is our routine. It’s dependable. I don’t wonder where she is or if she’s safe because I know that she is.

But the part I like the most about these few weeks spent with her at the safe house is dinner.

We cook together. Lucy tells me all about how her grandmother