Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(126)

As I feel him near, he reaches out, taking hold of my face, pointing me right towards him as he stares into my eyes so intensely.

“I am going to breed you, my pet,” he husks, his gaze not letting mine wander. “I am going to keep you with me and make you swell with my child. And when you give birth, I’ll plant another seed in your belly…and another…” His gaze grows darker, more intense and I feel him throbbing inside me painfully wide, my poor pink little labia stretched raw and reddish from his long use of me.

Some part of me screams that I shouldn’t let a killer come in me—again—but I shove that voice down, because what he’s saying...

I want that. I want exactly that.

“Yes!” I cry out, “Please, I need it.”

I’m on the cusp of another orgasm, but I do my best to keep it down and watch. Watch the glorious sight of this ripped god pump his dick into me a few final times. See the way his veiny trunk of a cock splits me open, glistening with my honey, until at last, he buries it inside me one final time.

I watch as he tenses, and sinewy muscle bulges across his broad shoulders, over his biceps and down his rocky stomach. Then I witness the glorious sight of this massive brute pump, short little coital pumps, and I’m able to feel him piercing too deep inside, unleashing all that virile seed as far inside me as it’ll go.

And I do it all knowing that each new spurt of his cream was another enhanced guarantee I’d bear this murderer’s child.

That’s the thought that does it, and I can’t hold back anymore. I let loose a scream of pleasure that surpasses all the others and I sink my nails into his bulging forearms, quaking so intensely as I climax upon his dick again, a flood of my slick honey coating his manhood, flooding down around his heavy balls.

When finally we come down from our mutual high, panting for breath and glistening with perspiration, I can’t help but giggle a bit.

“I’m going to need another shower now that you dirtied me all up again,” I tease.

He gives a wry smile and kisses me sweetly, grabbing up the towel from the floor and using it to cup our loins as he pulls from me, keeping our blissful mess from spilling out. That tender little act is just one among many, but it touches me deeply as he pulls me into him with his arm, holding me to his chest as he tugs the blankets up around us.

“Worry about showers later, kotika,” he says gruffly, turning off the bedside light. “For now, you and me need to rest,” he says.

I know he’s right, and after... how many orgasms? I’m exhausted. All the pain of earlier, the aches in my wrists and leg return, though they’re duller now, numbed by our mutual pleasure.

“That was amazing,” I purr as I curl into his chest, my fingers lazily stroking the bed of hair there.

“You were amazing, little kotika,” he says in a deep gruff.

“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice faltering as hoarseness takes over. “Kotika?”

“Kitty cat,” he explains patiently. “You are my little kotika,” he says, and though it’s dark now, I can feel his smile.

My heart's still pumping even as he idly strokes my hair, and I wonder if I’ll ever calm down enough to get to sleep. But it doesn’t take us long before we’re both out, the exhausting day claiming us both in a deep sleep.

When I wake up, it has to be a whole new day, because I feel like I’ve slept for an eternity, but the orange glow of evening sunset spills into the room. We must’ve slept for nearly a full twenty four hours!

But that’s not the truly alarming thing—what strikes me is the sight of Mikhail sat on the edge of the bed, phone to his ear.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but he holds up a hand to silence me.

“Get dressed,” he says tersely, and I see the seriousness in his eyes. “Now.”





19





Mikhail





Nikki’s voice still rings in my ears.

“Gregor knows everything. He knows you hid the girl, that you killed Vasili…I’ve never seen him so angry, Mikhail. And the way he looked at me? He’s gonna be gunning for everyone you’ve ever cared for, if that’s what it takes to get to you,” she’d said.

I’d told her to go into hiding, given her the address for my old safehouse in New York, the one I’d taken Alicia to originally, in case she can’t get any further in time. But nobody is safe anymore. Not with me around.

“What’s wrong?” Alicia asks me, pulling me out of my own head as we get ready, and I head to the closet, pulling out a shirt, pants, and jacket. She’s listening to me now, getting dressed, and I know she must realize how serious this is. She’s fought me on everything else so far, but now she’s being obedient. It somehow hurts to see that, and know it’s my fault.