Page 34 of Trapping His Assassin

And I came with a surprising scream.

Five fucking words strewn together in a sentence I’d never encountered before changed my life.

Roman pulled the gun out of me and climbed up my body. He kissed me sweetly, before sliding himself inside my still throbbing cunt.

“F-fuck,” he stammered when he hit my end.

Stuffed full, all I could make was small choking sounds, as I tried to get used to his girth. How the fuck did I end up in this position? Before the high of my orgasm could wane, he worked my body back up.

Roman stroked inside of me slowly, like he had all day to please me. He didn’t rush like some men I’d been with. He took his time. It frankly freaked me out.

I’d never been with a man who’d needed so much eye contact.

Mine strayed again to the wall.

A sting to my ass, and a barked ‘eyes on me’ had me glaring back at him.

He kissed my lips gently. Another peck. Another. Until my frown disappeared. Every time he pulled almost out, he would slide slowly back inside. I had never experienced anything like it.

My orgasm snuck up on me once more. Something I was amazed at. I always believed it was a myth that women could reach climax multiple times during one sexual encounter.

My body clenched, and Roman sped up the pace. At this point, I didn’t care if he was my enemy. I wanted his cum.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned, before biting down hard into my neck.

I screeched and raked my nails down his back, as lightning raced down my spine, and my cunt pulsed around his cock over and over again, squeezing him dry.

“God. Fucking. Damnit,” he groaned out as he came alongside me.

Panting, we both rolled away from each other.

I waited for his breathing to slow down. Once he went to sleep, I was so fucking out of here. Any man who fucked a woman like that had no intention of letting her go. I wasn’t going to be a prisoner here. I sure as fuck wasn’t letting him keep me.

I had a mission to carry out.

Unfortunately for Roman Petrov, a good dick wasn’t a good enough reason to keep him alive. Not when I had all my students depending on me to save them. No, Roman had to die.

It was too bad he had such a good fucking cock. A true tragedy. What a fucking shame. Oh well.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Roman

There’s nothing better than waking up to the woman you’ve kidnapped, straddling your chest, and holding your knife to your throat, with a victorious grin.

It was enough to make my balls ache.

“Morning, little killer,” I murmured, my throat hurting as it usually did as soon as I woke up.

She glared down at me, fuming. “Why aren’t you taking me seriously?”

I shrugged, not letting my smirk slip. If my little killer wanted me to meet my maker on this fine hump day, then so be it. Let her try. I didn’t fear death.

When someone such as myself has stared death in the face, over and over again, there was no fear. Only certainty. Death would always come, and I would be ready.

But I had a feeling that day wasn’t today.

“I have a fucking knife against your throat,” she screeched.

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