As soon as the words leave my mouth, a tremble of fear and anticipation forces its way through Snow’s body. She’s stiff as a board bent over my desk, her cheek pressed into the cool wood and her hands bound behind her back.
I drag the barrel of the gun through her wet folds. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect my little Snowflake to get off on being fucked with a weapon, but if her pretty cunt is anything to go by, she’s craving my touch in any way I give it to her.
Her wetness coats the barrel, and I can’t help but groan at the sight. Who would have thought my innocent little Mafia princess could murder a man in cold blood, and then be aroused almost immediately afterward.
I press the tip against her tight opening, placing a hand on her lower back to hold her in place. She can’t get very far anyway, not with me right behind her and her hands bound, but I want complete control. I want her every move to be dictated by me, her every breath to be with my permission. It’s what I crave and what my little Snowflake will learn to give me.
“Elijah,” she breathes. My name on her lips is like a quiet prayer, halfway between a plea and a moan, and if I heard it over and over again every day for the rest of my life, I would die a happy man.
The moment the barrel slips past through her entrance, we both let out a groan and a smirk tugs at the corners of my lips. She likes it. Once the gun is seated inside her, I hold it still and say, “Beg.”
Snow’s body stills beneath mine and her breath catches in her throat at the command. If I didn’t already know she wasn’t used to dominant men in the bedroom, every time I’ve issued a demand since she was carried into this house would have told me everything I need to know.
A violent tremble overtakes her tiny frame and even my rough grip on her back doesn’t do anything to calm her. The part of me that’s obsessed with her and would kill anyone who dared to harm her wants to bundle her up in my arms and hold her until she stops shaking, but the savage man I’ve always been, the one who takes whatever I want, whenever I want, and doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else, pushes his way to the front.
“I said beg, Snow,” I growl. “Don’t make me ask again.”
A quiet sob fills the room, her tears falling against her cheeks and dripping onto the papers beneath her face.
“Elijah,” she cries, and it almost breaks my resolve, but I stand my ground, the monster holding on to us both without regard. “Please.” The word is so quiet I almost miss it, but it’s enough. It won’t always be the case, but I’ve already pushed her so far today, I can’t keep pushing without being willing to bend a little.
Slowly, I withdraw the gun until only the tip is inside her, and then I’m pushing it back into her tightness. Watching her tight cunt wrap around the barrel is almost enough for me to abandon this entire plan and fuck her within an inch of her life, but that will come. We both need to show a little patience.
Snow whimpers as I push the barrel deeper into her, the foreign feeling of metal clashing with her own need has her hands clawing at one another around the tie Mrs. Chambers put in my desk drawer in case of an emergency. It’s the first time it’s come in handy.
“Does my dirty girl like having a gun in her cunt?” I grind out.
She shakes her head against the desk, but by the way her pussy grips around the gun and her arousal coating the inside of her thighs, she’s only lying to herself.
“Little liar,” I murmur, releasing my hand from her back and moving it to the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. The moment my fingers brush against her clit, Snow lurches forward. “You’re going to come around the gun, Snow, and you’re going to do it exactly when I say so. Do you understand?”
“I can’t,” she whispers, the words almost completely absorbed by her sobs.
“You can and you will, Snow. It wasn’t a question, it’s an order,” I growl. I start drawing gentle circles into her clit, the motion at complete odds with the way I’m abusing her pretty pussy with the gun, but the combination of hard and soft only seems to make her drip more. I’ll never be able to use this gun again, never be able to wash her sweet scent from the metal or taint it with blood and death. I’ll keep it as a trophy, a reward for the first time I fucked my Snowflake. Maybe I’ll even frame it and show it to people when they visit. Now there’s an idea.
A broken sob cracks through and her body shakes with the violence of it, but I don’t relent. She’s going to do as she’s told, and she’s going to do it when I tell her because my patience is wearing thin. All I can think about as I watch the barrel disappear through her soaking wet folds is my cock doing the same thing, and it’s my own personal version of torture.
My eyes roam over her luscious curves, feasting on every bit of creamy skin I’ve uncovered. Her back and arms are still covered with the robe, but I’ll rectify that as soon as she comes. I want her naked body splayed out in front of me like a sacrificial offering. The thought only makes me more impatient to get inside her tight body.
“Come right now, Snow. Come all over the gun and then you can have my cock.”
“Elijah,” she murmurs.
“Right the fuck now, Snow,” I demand.
The moment her orgasm takes over her body is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’ve seen her come plenty of times, more times than I’ll ever admit to her. Sometimes at her own hand, sometimes at the hand of others, but the way her pussy grips the barrel in a vice grip and her body tightens with ecstasy, it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever seen. Nothing has ever been as beautiful as Snow falling apart in front of me.
As soon as her body relaxes, spent from the power of her orgasm, I withdraw the gun and place it on the desk beside her head. Snow’s exhausted eyes watch my movement and widen the moment she sees the clip is missing.
She must think pretty poorly of me to think I would endanger her life by shoving a loaded gun in her cunt. The unspoken accusation makes my nostrils flare with anger. I keep telling her what she means to me, and yet she continues to think the worst of me. It’s not altogether surprising, I have killed more people with my bare hands than any other man in the city, but it still has rage beating through my veins.
As if noticing my anger, Snow flinches when I reach for the tie at her wrists and it only makes my jaw clench harder. After all the things I’ve told her, how can she think I would harm her physically?
I growl long and low, the sound escaping my throat despite my best efforts to swallow it. The moment her hands are untied, I scoop her up and carry her from the office, leaving the well-used gun on the desk to deal with later.
“Elijah,” Snow whimpers, fear flashing across the ice blue of her eyes. I hate that I scare her, but it has its advantages. She’s always more compliant when she’s afraid.
I don’t respond, simply carrying her through the house until we reach our bedroom. I kick the door closed behind me, the paintings on the walls rattling with the force of it. I prowl toward the bed and throw her in the center, watching as her robe falls open, exposing one of her breasts. The rosy peak at the center tells me all I need to know. Snow is turned on by her fear. I knew it when I made her blow me last night, I knew it as I fucked her with my favorite weapon, and I know it now as I stare at her.
My little Snowflake is every bit the deviant I hoped she would be.
