Page 51 of Queen Of WildCards

"P-please,"Iwhimpered, hands clenched so tightlyIknew it'd leave marks on his skin, but he seemed disinclined to care.

"Pleasewhat,MissStanton?" he growled, leaning in to run his nose along the pulse point in my throat. "Whatdo you need?"

Thegun wriggled just a twitch in the beginning of my tight channel, andIkeened at the foreign sensation, spreading my legs and begging him without using words that had long since failed me.

Iwanted to come.

Iwanted him to make me.

AndIwanted that gun deeper inside my needy cunt.

Ileaned back just a hint, arching my spine as he sank that gun deeper into me, slowly dragging the metal in and out of my sopping pussy as he groaned.Thewet sounds coming from between us were nothing short of obscene, andIfelt myself climbing quickly toward a precipice thatIwantedto be thrown bodily from.Mywhole being yearned to come, to explode around his weapon of death as he reminded me in the most primal of waysexactlywhy theFrenchcalled it'la petite mort'.

JustasIfelt myself clenching around the gun,Ace'shand tightened around my throat, and a shocked gasp echoed from the doorway, reminding us there were other residents in the warehouse.

"JesusChrist,Ace, what the hell are you doing to her?"

Hishand jerked back, and the barrel of the gun inside me was yanked firmly away, the edge of the sight nicking me on the way out.Theunexpected and unwelcome pain returned me to my fucking senses, andImoaned with embarrassment, covering my face with both hands asBlackJackstared on at the scene before him, his eyes flicking to my spread legs and the treasure between them, then quickly to the gun inAce'sgrip, covered with a slick sheen of my arousal that was unmistakeable in the moonlight.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

BLACKJACK

"JesusChrist,Ace, what the hell are youdoingto her?"

Acehad his hand around her throat, the captive in front of him spread wide on the counter, and the barrel of that pistol had just come out from between her legs.Mallorymoaned with embarrassment, covering her face with both hands asIstared at the scene before me.Icouldn't help that my eyes flicked to her spread legs,and the treasure between them,then quickly to the gun inAce'sgrip, covered with a slick, glossy sheen.

Aceyanked her off the counter and shoved her at me by the throat, a snarl of disgust ripping from his lips as he turned and shuffled off, gun still in hand.Instinctively,Ireached out and brokeMallory'sfall, gripping her by the shoulders as she stared at the floor between us.Ididn't even think about it asItook in her frazzled state: hair tangled and tousled from being yanked around, shirt tipped over one shoulder, shorts askew as she tugged them back into place with shaking hands.

Theonly thingIcould think of was the way he'd looked half-feral as he assaulted her on the fucking counter of the kitchen, with a gun, no less.

He'dsnapped.AndAce, with no restraint, was dangerous under the best of circumstances.

Ibent at the waist and fought the urge to take my hands off her, ignoring that general skin-crawling feeling wheneverItouched someone else. "Areyou okay?"Iasked hesitantly.

Herhead raised, and she tried but failed to meet my gaze.Recognizingembarrassment whenIsaw it,Ilet her hide herself from me, straightening as my hands dropped from her shoulders.

Iwas at a loss as to what to do with her, butIcouldn't just turn tail and run out now.Icouldn't leave her on her own out here withAcewild like that.Mygaze shot to the corner, where a faint light emitted from the slightly ajar door of the pantry armory, and the pieces clicked in my brain like a well-assembled puzzle.

"Youbroke into the armory?"Iquirked a brow, but she just shook her head, fists balled at her side.

"Ididn't," she sighed, exasperation oozing from her pores. "Thatasshole left it open as a test."

Theother brow joined my first. "Youfailed."

"Ifingered a gun or two, butI'mno idiot.Whatgood is a gun when you're a bad shot?"

Theshrug she gave me belied the regret in her that she couldn't properly defend herself even if she wanted to.

Iremembered a time whenIhadn't been worth shit with a gun.Whensomeone took pity on me and taught me what to do with one.Shewas living with criminals, and we had enemies.Theleast we could do was make sure she could defend herself if something happened to us.

"Comehere,"Iurged, offering her my hand.Ihummed pleasantly when she took it, andItugged her over to the armory in question, opening the door the rest of the way.

Hereyes went wide, and her gaze filled with apprehension for a split second as it met mine.Nodoubt she thoughtImeant her to pick out her method of assassination.

"Pickone,"Iurged, nodding toward the wall of pistols. "You'regoing to learn to shoot."

Malloryleaned back to stare up at me in bewilderment, cocking a hip out in that sassy way she had about her right before she picked a fight with you. "You'rejoking, right?"

---