Page 68 of Cruel Master

I cried out. “Oh, God!”

Gaven lifted his head from my chest and fucked into me again. “My name’s not God, Angel,” he hissed out. “It’s Master. Call for me if you want release. Go on, I want to hear you say it.”

“Please!” I screamed. “Oh, Master. Master, please. I’m gonna come!”

Fingers flicked over my clit and just like that, fireworks exploded inside of me yet again. I screamed through my next orgasm and felt Gaven’s hips piston against my body, stopping and holding as he bottomed out inside me. The hot wash of his cum filled me up. I shook and trembled and keened as I felt him unload inside of me just like I’d begged him to.

Once it was over, exhaustion clung to my limbs, and Gaven had to be the one to unlock my arms from my legs. I was too delirious to manage it myself. Once he did, I felt his arms slide under me and he lifted and pushed me further into place on the mattress. My eyes closed and after several moments, I felt the sheets being pulled away and tucked around my body as he moved under the covers against my naked skin.

The wetness between my legs now held new meaning. I closed my fingers over my lower stomach beneath my belly button. Soon, there would be new life inside me. A new beginning for both Gaven and me. I closed my eyes and snuggled deeper against him.

“Thank you, Master,” I whispered into the darkness.

Gaven’s lips touched the back of my head. “You’re welcome,wife.”

And just like that … I knew I was home.

EPILOGUE

GAVEN

7 months later…

Ifound the man I sought in a little apartment on the Lower East Side. Not a single one of his neighbors even suspected his vocation. No one ever did. I knew better than most that monsters like me looked like everyone else. This man, in particular, lived in a small but expensive two-bedroom unit with added security both at the front and back entrances of the building. His biggest mistake, however, was the living room windows. Wide, tall, overlooking the street.

On one hand, they could have been used as an added escape route—likely his own thoughts—but in this instance, they would be used for his death. It was just too pathetic. Too many killers got complacent in their work. The more they killed and got away with it, the more comfortable they became. After all, it took a certain amount of ego to take a life and go back to theirs like nothing had happened.

Snow fell across the expanse of the city, ice decorating the overhangs in long strips that would be knocked off come morning. For now, though, it made the world feel as if it were cloaked in a frost spell. My breath fogged in front of my face with each exhale.

Across the street, I huddled down on the balcony of an empty model apartment of a similarly expensive residence such as the one my target was currently enjoying himself. A grin widened my lips. He thought he was safe. It’d been months, after all, since he’d gotten away from nearly taking everything from me. Months since he’d accepted the contract that would ultimately lead to his demise.

I knew the game. It hadn’t been personal. It had been just a job.

But not this time, not to me.

Evangeline Price wasn’t a job and she was no longer just a tool. She was mine. Everything about her was mine to own, mine to control, and mine to worship. This man had nearly stolen that all from me and the reminder of her fear was burned forever into my head.

It didn’t matter to me that, for him, shehadbeen just a job. He had nearly stolen something from me and that was an act that I could not forgive. I waited for the man to pass in front of the window of his living room, pressing my foot against the steel bars of the balcony railing as I balanced the rifle on the ledge and aimed it.

It’d been decades since I’d first done this—years since my last contract kill and the only contract I now intended to honor was signed in my own hand and that of my wife’s. The final contract a man like me had never expected to have. A marriage contract.

A smile tugged my lips up as the man on the other side of the glass poured himself a glass of alcohol, not knowing it would be his last. Overhead, the moon hung full—a white eye scanning the vast expanse of a city that never slept. Nestled in the comforter of stars, I used the light it gave along with the lights of the rest of the city—the yellow glow from other apartments and headlights down below.

A car honked in the street. The man’s shadow moved away from his kitchen and finally towards his living room. I adjusted my rifle and lifted it away from the balcony’s edge instead of putting it on the lower stand by my feet. Once it was on its stand, adjusted, and prepped, I got down on my stomach on the cold, hard granite balcony floor.

My stomach was covered in a thick cashmere sweater—one that my sweet Angel had picked for me. No doubt if I dirtied it too much, I’d have to listen to her vent to me about expensive clothes and trying to keep them nice so that they would last. Honestly, I found that even her angry domestic ranting didn’t rankle me anymore. It was cute. She was cute. At eighteen, I’d never even considered how nice it would be to not only wear expensive and warm clothes but to have them picked out by someone who actually cared what they did for me. If they tucked me away from the chill in the air or if they fit right.

Angel cared, and that was why I had to do this.

I lined up my shot and sucked in a mouthful of frosty air, letting it burn into my lungs the same way it had decades before on that first night I’d taken a life. The man’s head dipped. A button was pressed, and the curtains drew down—shielding him from my view. That wouldn’t stop me.

Reaching up, I lowered the goggles I’d pushed onto my head and left there when I’d first gotten here. Flipping down the outer lens and pressing a button on the side, the image of the man’s heat signal was outlined in my view. In my pocket, my phone buzzed.

With a silent curse, I retrieved it and looked down at the screen. Through the infrared lens, the phone glowed. I flipped the lens back up and read the latest text.

Angel:Can you pick up ice cream on your way home?

I typed back a quick reply before sliding the phone back into my pocket and readjusting my hold on the rifle’s handle. Hunger curled deep in my gut as I lined up my shot. Bloodlust. Rage. Pain. Everything my Angel had felt when this man had tried to take her life—take her from me—I knew it well.

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