Page 54 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
And my fantasy of resurrecting him to kill him, like some kind of psycho version of the resurrection of Christ, died along with my fear of him finding me.
I’m not sure why. I guess seeing him in the flesh somehow turned my bloodthirsty fantasies into something lewd and tasteless. Yes, he was a monster, but I was still fantasizing about murdering a living man.
Of course, now I don’t mind those thoughts.
“And just what are you thinking, Harry?” he asks, his nose pushing my hair away from my ear so he’s now nestled against it. The aroma of coffee and sugar and whiskey winds around me like a strange magic dust. It has the power to make me sway against him. “My blood on your hands, staining your clothes? Dripping from the hole in my chest where you ripped my heart out?”
“You’re sick.”
He moves closer so his mouth is over mine, not quite touching it, and my entire body clenches with unwanted desire. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t have one.”
I lean up, mouth brushing his, and I’m rewarded with his breath like a kiss on me. “Because monsters… vicious, brutal things… don’t have hearts.”
He runs his tongue over my lips, and I whimper as he sucks my bottom lip in between his teeth and bites softly down. He lets go.
“No, but they know how to fuck and please and stoke your particular fires. Right?”
My eyes flutter shut, my core now throbbing with sexual need. My panties cling to my pussy, soaked with desire that paints the top of my thighs as I try to press my legs together.
He shoves his thigh between my legsso my pussy grinds against his jeans. I know he feels the wetness because he laughs and whispers, “I’m not kissing you in this literal house of God.”
My eyes snap open as I realize I was waiting for those kisses.
“Been there, done that.”
He starts to mash his thigh up on my pussy and I can’t but rock against him, a small moan breaking free.
“Fuck, Harry, you’d test the patience of a saint. Lucky I’m not that.”
“You’re the devil.”
He stops his leg and steps back, his eyes dark. “Remember that.”
“How could I forget?”
“Remember who and what I am. I might seem charming”—he ignores my spurt of bitter laughter—“but I’m not someone you want to mess with. I’ve killed a lot of people and not lost sleep over a single one.”
“Like my parents.”
“I’ve killed, just like your parents,” he grinds out. “Don’t be another addition.”
Shit. I shake, fear pinching at my skin, hate making it hard to see. I press into the wall as much as I can as he steps back and sips his drink like we’ve been discussing the weather.
“So, are you about ready to go, or do you have jobs to do around here?”
He asks this so pleasantly that my stomach roils. Did Luigi tell him about the network I run?
“Now that’s interesting,” he murmurs over the top of the mug. “Your face. What are you hiding from me?”
“My affair with Father Luigi?”
“I know about that.” His light tone is at odds with the savagery that lights up those midnight-blue eyes, and hedowns the rest of his whiskey. “It’s over, of course. The only cock you’ll be sucking or taking up your pretty, spankable ass is mine. Although now that I know about you and your stud of a priest, I’ll be fucking your ass sooner rather than later. I don’t have to be gentle, do I? Since you’re already experienced in that.”
“What?” My mouth drops open as my pulse goes haywire. “Thefuck?”
“Or maybe you want to flip your skirt up right now so we can try out this dining table.”
“You’re repulsive.”
