SERAPHINE
Leroi’s lips deliver a warmth that goes straight to my heart and a zing that shoots straight to my core. As he draws back, I tighten my grip on my makeshift garrote, not wanting the kiss to end.
“Seraphine,” he groans against my lips.
“Don’t stop.” I kiss him back, pressing my body against his.
He resists, and for a moment I wonder if he’ll break through the tape measure I looped around his neck and tell me he only meant to give me a congratulatory peck until I tighten my grip and slip my tongue between his lips.
Leroi advances even closer, his sculpted body radiating a delicious heat. His fingers curl into my hair with a possessive grip that makes my breath catch. His heart thumps against my chest as his tongue twists around mine. He’s tasting me, exploring me, driving me to the edge of ecstasy.
I’m burning up, consumed by Leroi’s kiss. I press my hips against his thigh, aching for a deeper connection. I lose myself in his overwhelming presence, until the voices, the images, and the emotions from that night fade back into the recesses of my consciousness.
Leroi is my peace of mind, and his presence is my tranquility. He’s the most exciting man I’ve ever encountered. The heat of this kiss burns through my barriers and ignites the flames of my desire. I want more. I want him.
The tape measure slips from my fingers, and I explore his body. Every ridge, every crease, every contour of his shoulders, pecs, and abs, feels exactly as I’d imagined. Hard as stone yet beneath his clothes lies the heat of his blood.
But he’s wearing too much.
My pulse quickens, and warmth pools low in my belly. I need to take off all the layers of clothing and slide beneath his skin. As my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, he takes my wrists in his firm grasp and pins them behind my back.
“What do you want from me?” His voice is barely a whisper, yet delivers a thrill that makes my thighs clench.
The answer rises to the back of my throat. I want to be accepted. I want to be protected. I want to be loved. I picture a future of us working together as assassins, ridding the world of those who deserve to die.
“Everything,” I moan. “You. I want you.”
Leroi pulls back, robbing me of his heat. When he stares down to meet my gaze, his dark eyes burn like embers. Breathing hard through parted lips, he rasps out the words, “Are you sure?”
Sure is an understatement. If he doesn’t continue this kiss, I swear I’m going to die.
“Please,” I whisper.
He crushes his lips back to mine, this time with his arms holding our bodies so closely that I melt. This kiss is hungrier, deeper, more urgent, and I wrap my arms around his neck and cling onto him as a lifeline.
Because that’s how I see Leroi.
He’s my rescuer, my teacher, my protector, my everything. In all the years I festered in captivity, grieving over losing Nanna, I never thought I would meet a man who would serve me retribution.
“You’re so beautiful.” Leroi’s kisses travel down my neck, each press of his lips sending sparks across my skin. “My avenging angel.”
He slides his fingers beneath my t-shirt, caressing my bare skin until I’m gasping.
“You’re wearing too much,” he growls into my skin.
“Then take it off.”
He yanks it over my head and tosses it to one side. The blood soaking through the fabric of my shirt cools, making my skin tighten into goosebumps. Leroi’s eyes widen when he realizes I’m not wearing a bra.
“Fuck, Seraphine,” he groans, his eyes darken. “Are these nipples stiff for me?”
I nod. “What are you going to do about them?”
Nostrils flaring, he raises a hand and rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I gasp as pleasure skitters down my spine and settles between my legs, but when he takes my nipple into his mouth, my knees buckle.
Leroi holds me steady, not seeming to care that I’m bathed in Julio Catania’s blood. Maybe despite all his nagging about my lack of self-control, he’s secretly like me and gets excited at the sight of carnage. I can’t dwell on that for long because he scoops me into his arms, lifting me off my feet.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“You’re covered in that bastard’s blood,” he growls, his voice filled with warmth. “I’m going to get you nice and clean.”
“Does that include an orgasm?” I ask.
His broad smile makes my stomach erupt with butterflies. “Is that what you want?”
“Please.”
He carries me across the armored truck, his footsteps crackling over the plastic wrap. At the end, closest to the driver’s cab, is a set of doors that I thought were closets, but one of them is a tiny wet room.
It’s the most compact thing I’ve ever seen, yet there’s enough space for both of us, even when he closes the door.
I lean against the plastic wall, my heart racing, the muscles of my pussy clenching and releasing in anticipation of his touch. Leroi sits me down on a small bench, giving me a close-up view of the bulge in his pants.
My pulse quickens, but there’s none of the usual violence or rage that comes every time I come into contact with a penis. It’s different with Leroi. He might get aroused like other men, but his erection isn’t imposing. He doesn’t pull it out and demand satisfaction. It’s just one reason I find him so intriguing.
He kneels between my parted legs, pulls off my shoes, exposing my feet. His fingers trail up my calves, leaving a trail of raised flesh in his wake and it makes my breath hitch. I shiver, but it’s not from the chill. The way he massages my legs sends electric pulses straight to my core.
“Lift your hips for me, angel,” he growls.
Right now, I would do anything he asked.
I raise my ass off the bench, letting him pull down my panties and pajama bottoms in one swift motion. He pushes my knees apart, his gaze going straight between my legs.
He groans, “Your pretty little pussy is soaked.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, my breath quickening. No one has ever called that part of my body pretty. At least no one I didn’t later kill.
Leroi kisses the sensitive skin on my inner thigh. I gasp, my legs jerking further apart. As his tongue glides higher, I grip the edges of the bench, my hips rising toward his mouth.
Last time, he fucked me with the handle of the knife and made me climax with his fingers. Is he going to use his tongue? I stare down between my spread legs, noting that Julio’s blood has spread down my thighs.
His hot breath fans my folds, making me tremble. Until I met Leroi, I never thought being with a man would be so exciting. My pulse quickens at the thought of him wanting to taste me when I’m covered in the blood of my enemies.
He swipes his tongue up my slit and makes a slow circle around my clit. Sensation floods my core, and my hips jerk.
“Stay still or I’ll stop sucking your sweet cunt,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
I try to obey, but it’s nearly impossible in this state of frenzy. There are too many firsts: my first consensual kiss, my first kill from the list of men on my list, and this, the first time a man has pleasured me with his tongue.
Leroi moves his hands up my thighs, gripping them tightly so I can’t move. I lean back against the shower wall with my eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of pleasure.
“You taste so good, angel.” He swirls his tongue around my clit faster, building the intensity until I’m sweating and panting on the bench. I grip his shoulders, my fingers clawing at his shirt.
How am I naked again while he’s completely clothed? Why does pleasure with him only go one way? I want to touch him. I want to explore the hard lines of his body with my hands, followed by my tongue. The pressure rises to a crescendo, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. At this rate, I’m going to explode.
The muscles of my thighs tighten around his head, trapping him in place. A keening sound traps in the back of my throat. I never want this moment to end.
“I’ve got you, angel,” he says. “Let go.”
My lips part, and I try to speak, but all I can manage are moans. Every lick, every swirl of his tongue makes me more sensitive and I lose myself in his touch.
I’m trembling, panting, so close to my orgasm that I can almost taste it in the back of my throat. Leroi clamps his lips around my clit and sucks, crumbling the last of my resistance, and an orgasm tumbles through me like a demolition ball.
“Leroi!” I cry out as I disintegrate into a thousand pieces, my entire body convulsing around his tongue.
He continues flicking, licking, and sucking, drawing out my orgasm until I collapse boneless against the shower wall. I’m too weak to move and too exhausted to speak. All I can do is slump there and bask in the afterglow.
My mind is quiet, and my entire world condenses into this single moment that I never want to end. Leroi raises his head and gazes up at me, his dark eyes gleaming.
“Good girl,” he says. “That was quite the show.”
Heat rises to my cheeks and spreads down my chest. I should probably close my legs or something, but I’m too relaxed to care.
As Leroi rises to grab hold of the shower head, my gaze drops to the bulge in his pants. It’s a perfect imprint of that thick erection I sat on when I threatened him in his bed.
I want to see it.
I want to run my tongue along that thick crown and make him lose control.
Raising a hand, I reach for the button of his pants, but he grabs my wrist. “No.”
My gaze snaps to his eyes. “What?”
His fingers grip so tightly that I’m sure he’ll leave bruises. “You heard me,” he snarls and turns on the hot spray. “No.”
My stomach drops. Is this another rejection?
