Page 44 of Liar's Heart
“I’ll get everything packed up and loaded for you there,” Theo says. Then he claps Ender on the shoulder before theyhug. “It was great seeing you again, man. We’ll have to get together again soon.” He then turns to me, and we shake hands. “It was lovely to meet you, Merrick.”
“You too. Please don't be a stranger.”
He flashes me a devilishly handsome smile. “Likewise.” Theo turns to leave but pauses and addresses Ender. “Make sure everything locks behind you on your way out and turn the cameras back on, will you?”
Ender assures him he will, and then he leaves, and it's just the two of us. He waits for about twenty seconds to make sure we're really alone before he grabs my hand and tugs me further down the range. I giggle, trailing behind him. “What are you doing?”
He pulls us into a new stall and kisses me fiercely, cupping my face in his warm hands as he walks me backward, not stopping until I'm pressed against the wall. My hands land on his stomach, sliding up his chest before fisting the fabric of his shirt and pulling him in closer to me. He kisses me breathless until the only air I breathe is what he grants me. He takes his fill, then pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “It’s been entirely too long since I got to do that.” He pants, just as breathless as I am. “Watching you all night has been fucking torture. You have no idea what it does to me when you show me your violence.”
I smile and arch my back, digging his erection into my stomach. “I have some idea.”
His eyes darken and flit down to my mouth as he growls, “You’ll get the full fucking point if you’re not careful, vixen.”
A shiver rolls up my spine, the heat of his words contrasting deliciously with the cool air. I tilt my head to the side, offering up my neck and hoping he’ll take the bait, that the wolf inside him can’t resist the feeling of my pulse hammering under his teeth. But when he shifts closer, I only feel his closed mouth press against the skin at the top of my neck, before he retreats. He looks no less ravenous, but he’sregained control. Damn. “Don’t distract me,” he orders. “I wanted to show you this range. It has dynamic targets.”
That manages to pull my attention away from the sudden wave of desire his kiss created. I kick off the wall and walk up to the counter, trying to get a better look. “Really?” I ask. “What kind?”
Ender points out the mechanisms as he notes them. “There's a motorized rail that can start, stop, and change speed. The rail itself has some curves to it, too, so it's not a straight line. Then there are different targets throughout. Some rotate, some turn, but you can set it to randomize a sequence. It's a lot of fun.”
It looks like a lot of fun. “You first. I want to watch.”
The corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying to bury a smile, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he walks over to a touch-screen panel on the wall and begins to mess with it. He gets the settings how he wants them and shows me the final screen. “When I say go, hit this button, and it’ll start. We shouldn’t need to reset it between rounds.”
I note the start button and move to the counter while he fetches two guns, their magazines, and a few boxes of ammo. Our arms brush against each other as we busy ourselves with reloading magazines, and it feels so flirtatious being this close to each other, touching but not really. The drive home is going to be excruciating after what’s already felt like hours of foreplay.
Despite the heavy flirting, we make quick work of getting everything organized, my gun and magazines set to the side for when it’s my turn. Ender readies himself, and I go to the control panel and start the program. There’s a thirty-second delay before it starts, and while it counts down, I settle into a spot behind Ender a few feet to his right, where I can see both him and the range at the same time. He waits with the gun lowered, and I can feel his energy sharpening, honing all of his senses in on the space in front of him.
Suddenly, a target on the left side about ten yards out flips down from the ceiling. Ender fires twice, and both hit center. A round target pops out from behind a wall in an arch, like it’s attached to a wheel. Two shots ring out, and while I don’t see where they hit, the target itself snaps back like it’s on a hinge and a bullet connected. Another target flips down from the ceiling to the right about fifteen yards back, but this one doesn’t come down as low. Ender shifts, then fires twice, once again hitting the center with both bullets. The fourth target crosses the field horizontally at about twenty yards, left to right. Once it gets about two-thirds of the way across, though, it reverses instead of continuing past like you think it’s going to. Ender fires once, then holds for a moment before firing again instead of his usual two back-to-back.
As soon as the second shot is out, he drops the empty magazine with his right hand, letting it hit the counter while he grabs a new one with the left. Smacking the full magazine into the well, he racks the slide and is back up and firing at the fifth target, not missing a beat.
My pussy weeps watching him.
I could tell he was good from what I saw earlier, but being able to stand back and fully take him in like this makes it clear how far beyondgoodhe is. He’s magnificent, a master at his craft. His back and shoulder muscles ripple under the thin cotton of his shirt as he moves from target to target, flexing as he braces through the recoil. He takes out three more targets before he drops his spent magazine to reload. I can feel the saliva pooling in my mouth from watching the tendons in his forearms flex, his wedding ring winking in the light as he works.
I don’t even look downrange for the next magazine, having given up entirely on seeing how this range works. I just watch my husband in his element, the killer who brought me back to life, and admire how incredibly sexy he is.
And he's all fucking mine.
The final shot rings out, and he sets the gun down and steps back, signaling that he's done. He turns and holds his hand out, gesturing for me to step up and take his place. As I pass him, I rock up onto my toes, planting a kiss on his cheek, and tell him, “That was really hot. You're incredible.”
He smiles down at me, but his eyes start to shutter. “Thanks. Heir of Charon, remember? I’d hope I’m a halfway decent shot. Cruelty is my birthright, after all.”
I forget that about him—not what he is, but how he became. For me, it was a choice. One made out of necessity and survival, but mine all the same. Over the past week, Ender's shared more with me about his childhood, and it's heartbreaking even by my skewed standards. The fact that he has any humanity left in him after his father's fucked-up parenting is a miracle. He doesn't always see it that way though. He sees the monster Alec tried to make, a legacy he could be proud of, and not the man who fought like hell to survive, who was brave enough to listen to his own heart even when it wasn't safe to do so.
Taking him by the hand, I lead him back to the counter. I clear a spot to sit and hop up onto it, then pull him to stand in between my legs. Now that we're closer to eye level with each other, I take his face in my hands and look him in the eye. “I love you,” I say.
He palms my thighs, rubbing them through my leggings. “I love you too.”
“You said earlier that I have no idea what it does to you when I show you my violence, but I do. I know because the same thing happens to me when you let the big, bad wolf out to play.” I lean in and whisper in his ear, “And I fucking love to play with him.”
I sit back so I can see his face. His eyes have grown dark, his features sharp, just like the wolf I named him as. I press on. “Cruelty may be your birthright, but my love is your privilege, one that was given when I was fully aware ofeverything you are. If you think your history of violence is an issue for me, then you clearly have no idea how much I want you right now.”
His pupils dilate and nostrils flare. I lean back and plant my palms on the counter behind me, grounding myself before I spread my legs more for him. He stoops forward just a little before inhaling deeply, eyes on mine the whole time. “I can smell your hot cunt from here, wife. Gunpowder and brass can’t even cover it.”
His words send an electric current straight to my pussy, and if he doesn’t touch me soon, I might lose it. Iwilllose it because, for all the ways I love to be tormented and teased, I’ve discovered that’s nothing compared to when this man uses my body for his pleasure. And it seems that the more we fuck, the more I need it, desire begetting desire until I lose the ability to think beyond my need to be his plaything. It’s never been like this, even when I was younger.
I never want it tonotbe like this.
