Thirst a dark stalker ro.., p.6
Thirst : A Dark Stalker Romance, page 6
“Paxton James, that was quite a show you put on,” he says, his voice deep and low, shifting in his seat. He’s wearing those same black leather gloves as in the picture, no tattoo in sight.
A whimper escapes from my lips.
Flashing me a half smile around his cigarette, he taps the gun on his knee making sure I know who’s in charge. “I loved watching you come. I jacked off countless times to your memory,” his voice a dark growl like an animal waiting to strike.
I swallow hard, fear making me shiver. The fucker notices, and his eyes widen while he takes a drag from his smoke before he stamps it out on the table next to him.
“Salvatore,” I breathe, trying to get my panic under control while my eyes dart to his shadowed face. His lips tip up slightly in one corner like he enjoys watching me panic.
I let myself fall back against the windowsill and he cocks his head, licking his lips. I made sure to hide a couple knives in case something happened. He parts his jacket and another gun flashes in the moonlight.
“My enemies call me Padre, but you can call me master until we get acquainted again. I was never into the daddy kink to tell you the truth,” he says, raising a brow like a dare, his dark eyes lingering on the tiny strap of lace covering my pussy.
“How long have you been in here?” I ask, feeling the contours of the windowsill for the knife and trying to keep my voice level. I can’t show weakness with this guy before I stab him in the freaking dick.
“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.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice ice-cold, panting against my mouth. With a dead look in his eyes, he grins. Before I can blink, he flips me over on my stomach and sits on my legs—his erection digging into my butt while I squirm. I scream and try to whack him in the head with the gun, but the fucker keeps me pinned under him.
“I’m going to kill you,” I scream, and he chuckles, slapping my ass hard with the back of his hand. The sting sends a shiver down my spine, and my pussy gets wet instantly.
“God, I love the way your flesh turns pink,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, as he caresses my ass.
I tilt my pelvis trying to turn around, but he holds me down with his full weight and slaps my ass again, over and over until tears spill over and I scream.
“Scream for me baby, that’s it.” His voice is filled with lust. He rips my arms above my head and wipes the gun from my hand. It falls on the floor with a dull thud. I try to whip my head back to slam him in the nose, but the bastard anticipates my moves, and digs his knee into my back while he secures my hands with zip ties above my head. He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, crushing my back to his chest, while I struggle to break free.
“I like the fight in you, takes me back to our night,” he purrs, his mouth against my ear.
“Screw you, buddy, I’m going to shoot you in the fucking dick for this,” I growl out.
He chuckles and licks a path up my neck stopping at my ear. His hot breath sends shivers down my core before stopping at my clit. “Don’t threaten me with a good time Miss James. You’re getting me hard as hell.” He groans, digging his erection into my back to underline his point, and parts my ass cheeks with the head of his wet cock. “You know, I haven’t fucked anyone since burying my dick in your sweet heaven you call a pussy,” he moans, pushing his hand between my body and the bed. He roughly cups my sex and I yelp when he pushes his middle finger inside the fabric soaked with my cream, his dick parting my crack from behind.
“So wet, just like before,” he mutters thickly, swirling his digit around angrily. My toes curl in the sheets as the first spasms of my orgasm reach the surface almost tipping me over the edge.
“What are you talking about?” I grit out, trying to struggle free.
“This pussy is mine. Did those boys make you come?” he asks, whispering against my ear with a wickedness to his voice. “Did they know what you want?”
“You are going to die.”
“Shh,” he says, pushing the finger against my mouth that was just inside me, fuck this guy is crazy.
“You like it when someone takes you when he pleases. I rubbed my hand raw in all those years thinking about your memory,” he says, teasing his middle finger from left to right over my bottom lip. “And then I turn around and you go for nice vanilla farm boys when I know for a fact you like it when someone fucks you until you’re begging me to stop. You like the thrill, the hunt, the pain, admit it.”
“Screw you, asshole, you don’t know shit.”
“I know what you want. I know your secrets. I know you only moved back to New Orleans and started hunting again six months ago. What did you do those other years? And who is Ignatius?” He says, his voice muffled by my neck.
No, no, I can’t have him find out about Iggy. The only reason I came back is because the son of a bitch who still haunts my dreams is dead. But why does he know about what happened in the shipping container?
“Don’t worry, I will find out sooner or later,” he snarls, blowing out a deep breath.
“I’m not going to tell you shit.” My stomach twists, and bile rises in my throat.
“Is that right? You liked having my gun teasing your sweet smelling cunt, didn’t you?” He says, his voice haltering while his rough hands move over my curves. “I’m gonna make you talk, baby.”
I whimper and he grows even harder against my thigh. The man is enormous, his hands twice the size as mine as he wraps one hand around my neck applying pressure, cutting off my oxygen.
“How did you find out I was coming for you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he purrs, rubbing his cock back and forth over my butt crack, the lace digging between my cheeks.
“I’m going to bring you in,” I say, struggling under his hold. “You are nothing but a cold-blooded killer,” I wail, while he tugs the lace of my string back letting it slam between my ass crack and hitting my swollen pussy lips.
His hand moves down to my ass and under the lace to tease my puckered hole before he pulls, snapping the fabric.
“Stop,” I whisper, fighting against the trembles of my body.
He stops nuzzling my neck and bites my earlobe hard. I scream while he pushes my arms higher above my head, turning my body to the side so his left hand can move down my body following the line of my curves to my breast. He twists my nipple painfully, and I mewl, squirming in the sheets. My arousal drips out while he turns me on my back. “A pierced nipple, you’re a dirty little cunt, are you?” His voice thick with lust.
“Fuck you,” I swear, trying to ignore the shot of electricity running to my clit from his calloused fingers.
“You know I could kill you in a second if I wanted to,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse while his fingers travel down, only stopping to push my shirt up so he can run them over my naked flesh. “And you smell so good, what is it, mint and vanilla?”
I struggle and groan when he rips my underwear still stuck to my leg and digs two fingers into my pussy without warning. “Another piercing, you keep surprising me,” he groans while tears rush to my eyes. He leans down and kisses my temple. “So wet, I’m going to have so much fun playing with you before I kill you one orgasm at a time. But I’m a little disappointed, I told you not to shave.” Swirling his fingers through my wetness, my clit starts to pulse.
“No,” I protest, whipping my head back and striking his nose in a hard blow.
He swears in what sounds like Italian, while he releases the hold on my hands. I turn around, my tank top hiking up over my breasts. Lifting his head, he grins, hungrily staring at me with his cold blue eyes. He looks manic, his pupils are huge, his eyes almost pure black.
His smile comes ever so slowly while he lets out a slow breath, “Well now, that wasn’t very nice.” His teeth are covered in blood like an animal. I want to hit him in the face with my fist, but the man is like a tiger the way he pounces and crashes on top of me. He reaches above me, and I hear the rattle of chains before I see them; in one fluent motion he’s secured me to them.
I struggle while blood from his nose drips on my chest. “You fucking asshole, you planned this?” I screech, struggling but feeling my body growing tired.
He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, not saying anything as he stares at his blood-soaked hand. He pushes one finger into his mouth, closing his eyes on a groan while he sucks the blood from his finger. Squinting his blue eyes while he smiles at me, his teeth are red from the blood.
He dips his finger down, and I watch in horror as he draws a heart across my stomach with his blood. “Jerry from reception was very accommodating if you must know.”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“I know,” he growls, looking at my bare pussy. “You and I are going to have so much fun together.”
Salvatore
My dick has been hard since the moment Derick gave her my file. The fucker was easy to convince when I gave him an untraceable bank account in the Caymans. I spent the last ten years trying to find the woman who got close to me and put a crack in my heart. The only one who got my cock hard as steel. I picked up her scent once in Paris, but she vanished just as quickly as I found her. I killed Jonathan a year ago and she resurfaced. When she moved back to her hometown, I thought I struck gold. I got Vasily to hack into her computer and phone, and got a name, Ignatius James. If I find out she’s gotten married, I’m going to kill the son of a bitch.
I press my forehead to hers, her different colored eyes meeting mine. The fear in them almost makes me come in my slacks. I slide my fingers through her curly hair, watching it bounce, and she groans. I know she must be in pain; she has been tugging on her restraints since the moment I tied her up. But I can’t risk her getting loose and pummeling my ass. The woman is highly skilled. She could have easily become a killer like me. She’s changed from the lanky kid I fucked all those years ago to the woman lying under me today. Hell, thirteen years is a long time. I love her fuller breasts, the dimples on her legs, and thicker thighs. She’s all curves now and damn my cock loves it as much as my head.
“Who is Iggy?” I repeat the question, venom slicing through my voice.
“No one,” she snarls, thrashing in the sheets.
“Who is he,” I repeat, pressing the cold barrel of my gun against her clit, her pussy swallows the barrel and I grin.
Her eyelids shutter as tears start to fall. I can’t wait till I have my dick inside her. My erection grows painful between us, stabbing into her stomach. I look down and frown, why the hell does she have a horizontal scar there like someone sliced her open. The only one who is going to make her fucking bleed is me, my anger floats to the surface and I want to kill the man who did this to her.
I rock the gun back and forth and she whimpers. “Who did this to you?” I ask, trying to hide the emotion in my voice. I’m going to kill the son of a bitch who hurt her. I’m going to destroy him.
She frowns looking down between us. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I snarl, stand and slam the gun on the table before raking an angry hand through my hair. “I’m the only one who’s gonna make you bleed, remember?”
She tugs on the restraints and the look in her eyes changes while she stares me up and down, her mouth making a little O.
“Jonathan,” she whispers.
I cringe at the name. I spent the last ten years doing the Company’s business. Salvatore was my escape, he is my fucking way out to venture out on my own with my guys. It’s the name my father gave me when I was born in a little town outside of Rome. He took me in and I repaid his kindness by killing my first guy who happened to be on the CIA’s Most Wanted list. Didn’t take them long to draw me into their claws and I became part of Uncle Sam doing their dirty business. I built my name from nothing, The Sentinel family being a front for my enterprise, and now I’m coming to collect what’s been mine. I’m keeping her. Nothing and no one is going to stand between us. Not her parents, brothers, or any fucking new guy.
“Who the fuck is Iggy, Paxton?”
Tears start to flow for real now. She tugs on the restraints, and she draws blood. “It’s you, it’s you. But you died, Jonathan!”
Fuck, I can’t see her cry and hurt like this.
“I’m not dead.” I want to tell her I’ve been dead inside not having her with me all these years. “If I take off your cuffs, will you swear not to sock me in the face, or put a cap in my ass?” I ask, raising a brow.
She nods, trying to hold back a whimper.
“Okay, you promised, remember?”
She watches me as I take off the cuffs, and the zip ties with my knife. Better to be safe than sorry when restraining her.
Sitting up she grabs her wrists, tears stream down her face, while she pushes her tank top down to my disappointment.
“Better?” I ask, tilting my chin to stare at her nipple piercing.
“Yeah, asshole, better,” she grits out, slapping me hard across the face.
My head whips to the right, and I can taste the blood on my tongue. Turning back to her, I smile. “What was that for? Don’t get me wrong, I liked it,” I say, my voice deep as I waggle my brows.
She grabs the undone sheet and tugs it under her arms obscuring her perky breasts from me.
I pout and tug on the cotton trying to get it off her. My dick is already throbbing and heavy in my slacks. My thickening erection needs to be inside her and soon. I want to touch her more. I want to sink my tongue into her tight cunt. I’m aching all over, I need her.
She swats my hand away, and I frown, tearing it from her, ripping the sheets apart, “I want to look at you.”
