Page 12 of The Assassin
Why did I care? She was a naked woman like any other; it wasn’t as if I hadn’t seen hundreds before now, in every position known to enticea man. Hell, I’d lost my virginity at fourteen to a friendly neighborhood prostitute who frequented the corner not far from the building my brothers and I had been squatting in at the time. Derrick Roslyn’s daughter didn’t have anything I hadn’t seen before. And yet…
There was something about her face, her body. Something I couldn’t put a finger on. Something that drew my attention when I normallywouldn’t spare her a second glance, no matter how beautiful, no matter how much she made my cock thump against the zipper of my fatigues.
“Oh!” Her eyelids slid closed, then opened again when she pinched her nipples hard. The water sloshed as she pushed up into her hands, searching out the pleasure-pain she was giving herself. One hand left her breast and traveled beneath the bubble-covered surfaceof the water, its journey hidden from everything but my imagination. I knew the moment her fingers made contact with her clit—it was in the widening of her eyes, the heavy puff of air she released, the sudden jerk that splashed water onto the bathroom floor.
A growl rose, unbidden, in my throat. To my shock, I barely managed to hold it back.
Definitely time to find a fuck.
And yet I didn’tmove. I watched instead—the slender bend of her arm as she set a rhythm, the white teeth biting down on her full lower lip, the strain in her face as she chased release. I watched, and I held my breath, waiting, waiting. And every second only served to solidify the plan forming in my mind. The way to use Abigail Roslyn against her father. The way to add another stone to the [grave I would build tobury him alive.
The daughter would be the start. Only death would finish it.
Abigail strained hard, a small wail escaping her lips as she hit her peak. And yet the tension didn’t ease, not by much. I could see it in the rigid set of her muscles, in the way her body stayed tight instead of relaxing into the water. She might have climaxed, but it had been weak. Unsatisfying. She needed more thanher fingers, more than whatever fantasies were playing out in her head.
She needed a partner to give her that ultimate high. A partner she hadn’t found yet.
That partner would be me.
