Page 89 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

"Silent Death will no longer be a problem," she replies evenly. Her composure only amplifies my excitement. My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I push the accelerator, urging the car to go faster.

"You were magnificent!" I glance at her, drinking in the sight of her - the white T-shirt clinging to her lithe form, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. How can someone this delicate, this fragile, be so damn dangerous?

I whoop with excitement. "That was incredible! I've never seen anything like that before! I knew you were good, but you...you're something else entirely. Wilder than my wildest imagination.” Desire ignites in my veins, mingling with excitement. "I can't wait to get you alone."

A sly smile curves her lips. "Is that a promise?"

Her teasing tone sparks my arousal. I visualize all the ways I will dominate and possess her. The things I will do to her delicate flesh until she's writhing and begging for release.

I turn the music up, the windows down. The wind whips through our hair as we speed back towards my compound.

We reach the gates and I slow down. The gates swing open automatically, manned by the armed guards standing along the boundary wall. My guards know better than to delay us and my Lamborghini glides through. They salute as we pass.

The urgency of the moment pushes me to pick up speed again, bringing the car to an abrupt halt inside my private garage, the screeching tires echoing in the enclosed space.

Camela removes her seatbelt and reaches for the door, but before she can open it, my body is leaning across hers, holding her hand in place. She looks at me questioningly.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I tell her, my gaze shifting to her lips. The air crackles with electricity between us, and the car feels hotter.

“Then don’t,” she whispers, releasing her hold on the handle. Our eyes lock, and before I know it, my lips find hers. The deadly encounter tonight has ignited something wild and primal within us.

I'm on her in an instant, one hand fisting in her hair, the other clutching her throat. I crush my mouth against hers, her gasp of surprise like music to my ears.

She responds with equal ferocity, her nails raking down my back. I hiss at the sting, my grip tightening around her neck. The heady combination of pain and pleasure clouds my senses. All that matters is Camela. My Huntress. My queen.

I break away, panting. "You're exquisite. No one can match you, Huntress."

Her eyes gleam. "You know,” she licks her lips, suggestively. “Even a Huntress likes to be hunted, once in a while.”

“Is that so?” I caress her throat, feeling her pulse flutter under my palm.

"Try me," A teasing lilt colors her tone, though her gaze holds a hungry edge. She craves me as much as I crave her.

I brush my thumb over her parted lips. "Tell me what you want,” I ask.

“I want you to bring me to the brink of life and death itself. Make me breathless, shatter me, make me feel alive. I want more.”

The memories rush back as I understand what she’s suggesting. That last night, in bed, I bound her with my tie. She wants …more.

I crash my mouth against hers again, delirious with want. Her clever tongue dances with mine, stoking the fires of my desire. I edge my fingers below her shirt and cup her breast. She fumbles with the buttons of my shirt, each touch promising more.

“Lift up your arms,” I command. She does as I say, and I rid her of it. She’s on the seat beside me, in nothing but her bra and while the sight of her breasts teasing to spill free is breathtaking, I’d rather see them bare.

I lean over my seat, and rip off the hooks from the back. Her bra falls down her arms and lands on her lap.

Determined, I push her backrest down and until she lies horizontally, her legs still positioned on the floor in front of her. Then I clutch the other lever to push the seat backwards, making space for me to kneel between her legs on the floor.

I grab her ankles and spread them apart to make room for my body. Her gaze holds mine, daring me to take control, and I can't resist the challenge. My hands find their way to her thighs, gripping them firmly, and our bodies are consumed by an intense sexual energy that feels too small to fit into this car.

I perch myself a little higher and look up at her flushed face. I grasp both her breasts. She groans and arches her back, needy and aroused. I can’t help but feel the same, my own cock straining against the confines of my pants.

I reach down for her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping with trembling fingers. She lifts her ass off the seat so I can slide them down. She tries to reach me with her hands, but I know I’ll be faster. I sit up straighter, remove my belt, unbutton my trousers and tug them down.

She’s perched on her arms, watching my movements and catches sight of my already hard rock. Her eyes widen, just a little. I place my hand on her breasts, forcing her back down again.

She lets out a soft moan, trying to come back up, trying to reach for my cock with her hand.

“Can’t you see I’m hard already?” I tell her. Without a second thought, I grab her wrists in my hands, and take the belt I just discarded, tying her wrists together, and then to the seat lever on the door side.

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