Page 114 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
“And you ask me why I won’t stop being there if someone needs help?” Harry says, her voice rising with frustration.
“I’m trying to make sure you can do what you want.” Then I cross a line. “And your uncle seems to be in the thick of it. Up to his fucking neck. So?—”
“Don’t you dare hurt him.”
“No promises,” I say. “If he hurts you, all bets are off.”
“Torin…”
But I just stare her down. That man in the fire and smoke, my coat starting to burn from the flames, looking as guilty of killing her parents as if I’d shot them myself.
I need to keep it there in my head.
Just like Harry does. She’ll never forget. Never forgive. And… how can I blame her?
She swallows, then shakes her head.
And I wait.
Wait for the words.
Hate. Hate. Hate.
But she just rushes at me and pushes me backward. I’m not ready for the force of her, and I stumble, taking her with me. We hit the side of the bed and land on the floor and Harry lets out a growl, ripping my shirt. I roar back, both of us full of guttural, primal sounds that spark with lust and need and chaotic, desperate desire.
I tear at her clothes, not caring what rips. I need her naked; I need to feel her against me. Then I tear apart her delicate hot-pink bra and the fucking panties, my hands everywhere on her naked, slightly flushed skin.
Oh fuck, she’s still wearing the choker, my mark of ownership.
Harry lets me tug it once before she grabs at me and claws at my shirt, venom and passion in every move.
She pulls open my pants and I shove them to my ankles, freeing myself.
Harry’s breaths are sharp as she wraps her hand around my cock, massaging, pulling. It’s a desperate and rough type of hunger that burns in my veins. Her hand will never be enough.
I pull it off me, and I roll her on the floor, pinning her hands above her head before slamming into her, fucking her in hard, angry bursts.
I can’t get enough. Her cunt is tight, made for me, and it clamps down on me, making my balls fucking sing.
Her mouth is hungry, and I feed it mine, our tongues caught in a violent, erotic dance. It’s naked and wild, a pagan dance of kissing and fucking, and if this is the only way we can connect, then I’ll rile her up forever.
Then I roll her over so I’m on my back. I free her hands and she rides me hard as I grip her hair and suck on her tits, gently pulling her nipples through my teeth.
But something changes as I hold her over me, guiding her hips. The wind seems to change, making the fires burn hotter and slower.
She lowers herself on top of me and whimpers as our mouths meet again, like we need each other to breathe. This kiss is different; it’s seductive, needful, a sultry dance in the dark, and I never want it to end.
I kiss a path down her throat, grinding against her clit with each push and pull. Her layers seduce and tangle me, and I’m lost in her.
Her pussy clenches, then the walls start to throb around me, her sweet juices drowning my cock. I force myself to stay the course, to keep the beat of my thrusts until she’s finished.
Then she whispers, “Oh, Torin… oh… please… too much… I have to… oh… oh… I’m coming, Torin… I’m coming!”
Her words are slurred, and I feel that second, deep orgasm that pulsates through her in full-body beats, and it’s too much for me, too. I can’t hold back.
With a low roar, I surge up, coming deep inside her, and I almost pass the fuck out from the pleasure that crashes over me.
She flops down on me, boneless, and I stroke a hand down her sweaty back, depositing kisses over her throat, herlips, her cheek.
