Page 50 of Queen Of WildCards

Thegun was at my hip now, andIwhimpered as he pointedly trailed it up the inside of the leg of my shorts, caressing my thigh with it like it wasn't a weapon, but a toy.Mypussy throbbed in time with my hammering heart, the adrenaline and the rush battling each other for dominance in my brain.

Ishould not be turned on.

Ishould be afraid for my fucking life.

Ishould be in full-blown panic, not fighting the wetness between my thighs.

Thatgun in his hand brushed against my panties, eliciting a gasp from my lips, and just as suddenly, he jerked it away, rising to his feet again, hand still buried tightly in my hair.Ifelt the pistol again as he pressed it to my temple and jerked my head back soImet his fiery gaze.

"Takeme out of these pants and suck me dry likeIknow you want to."

Idamn near came from the way he demanded things from me with a gun pressed to my head.

Ireally was broken.

Myhands shook asIraised them to the hem of his sleep pants, tugging them down and over his stiff, bouncing cock, a drop of clear fluid clinging to the tip like a tease.Mytongue nearly fell out of my mouth in my haste to lick it up, and he rewarded me with a sinful groan of approval as he thrust forward and slammed his cock straight down my throat with no warning.

Fuck, he was big.

Hislength ran down the flattened surface of my tongue asIstruggled to breathe, the grip on my hair so tight it brought tears to my eyes from the sting alone.Oneof my palms lay flat against his thigh asItook him over and over, his forceful thrusts gagging me around his length several times with no reprieve.

Thegun slipped away from my head for a moment, butIpaid it no mind, swallowing a few times in an effort to make him make those noises in the back of his throat again.

Hedidn't disappoint.

Clearly, it'd been a while since the poor man had gotten a good blowie, because his balls were already tightening against his body in preparation for the load he was about to shoot down my throat.

Gods, a sick part of mewantedhis load down my fucking throat.

Iwanted him to feel it asIswallowed his fucking essence, asIlicked my lips and smiled up at him to let him knowI'denjoyed what he'd freely given.

Witha groan, he rammed himself all the way into my throat and came, hot ropes of his seed slipping down the back of my esophagus asIswallowed against him, enjoying the sinful squeak of shock and pleasure that was decidedly un-Ace.Whenhe finished, his whole body jerked back in surprise, butIsimply leaned my head back and met that steely gaze with one of my own.

Nowords were needed for either one of us to understand the shift that had just taken place.Hishand still clung to that pistol like a lifeline, but it shook now, and a little part of me was saddened by the fact that he seemed to have forgotten he held it.

"Fuck," he muttered, mumbling incoherently to himself as his fists left my body and rose to his head, pounding his temples in exasperation.Hethumped the butt of his gun's grip against the soft flesh there, growling to himself in a manic snap that had me on edge.

I'dhad patients like him.Patientsthat scared me just a bit, walking a tightrope that threatened to snap at the first sign of difficulty in life.ButAce'stightrope was taut and unforgiving, made of steel.Hedidn't fall, he just chose to step off it, tired of balancing between good and evil.Andnow,Iwas seeing the unhinged side of him, a sideIfeared he hadn't explored in a long ass time.

Menlike that, men whofearedtheir dark side, they were dangerous.

AndIliked danger.

Hishand twitched asIwatched, half expecting him to leave me on that floor and replace the gun in his cabinet, but the other half of me wondered if he was about to finish the job since he had the damn thing out and in his grip.

Instead, he turned, whirling on me with a searing heat emitting from those gorgeous, expressive, tortured eyes.Hisfree hand gripped my throat and lifted me off the floor, the armed one pointed in my direction, but thankfully not against my temple.

"Geton the counter, sweetheart," he commanded in a whisper, his brows constricting above his eyes like he wasn't sure whether he meant to speak the words or not.

Ihopped obediently backward, my ass resting on the low counter, feet dangling before him.Witha practiced move, his pistol-filled grip trailed to my thighs and shoved against one knee quite roughly, spreading me for his perusal.

Andperuse he did.Thehand lingering around my throat like a necklace did little more than hold me in place as his gun's barrel blazed a trail up the leg of my shorts once more, brushing against my panties so roughlyIcouldn't bite back the gasp that rose in my throat.Hissmile tipped up, turning him from crazed armed man to sinfully handsome yet dangerous playboy, andIswallowed thickly as his gun shifted sideways so his fingers could brush against the spot he'd just had the metal pressed.

Acelet out a low hiss, dragging his fingers up and down as he watched me closely, relishing the way my eyelids fluttered and my fingers clenched around the edge of the counter. "You'resoaked,MissStanton.Positivelydripping."Heshifted his fingers again and tugged my panties to the side, andIwhimpered like the needy bitchIwas, both appalled thatIwas letting him touch me like this, with a gun in his hand, no less, and also needy and eager for whatever torture he planned to wreak on my body.

"Tellme, sweetheart, have you ever come around the barrel of a gun while the man who's threatened to kill you fucks you with it?"

Ihad a second and a half to process the words out of his mouth before he was sliding the fucking gun in question right up inside of me with no preamble and no more warning.Mylegs twitched instinctively, trying to close against the invasion, andIreached forward and gripped his shoulders roughly, tears in my eyes asIbegged him incoherently—for what,Iwasn't sure.

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