“You’re determined,” I said as he pulled my hips up and back, forcing me onto my knees.
He flexed his hips against my ass, letting me feel just how turned on he was. Hard cock straining against his jeans, ready to fill me in all the ways I loved.
“Mmm, fuck.”
His hand smacked across my ass and made me jump again. A few seconds and the sound of a zipper later, there was another smack, but with his cock.
“Just wet enough,” he said as he rubbed the tip along my slit.
Even with as many times as he’d fucked me, the feeling of his cock pressing in, spreading my pussy, filling me completely, made my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open.
“Fuck.”
Leaning over, he pressed his chest to my back, a loud moan moving through him, vibrating against me. One hand slipped around my waist, running up between my breasts and resting around my neck. He straightened back up, pulling me with him.
“You’re right,” he whispered into my ear as he rocked his hips in small thrusts. “I do need you more than you need me.”
A moan crawled out of me as his cock rubbed my walls, lighting up every nerve, sending a tingling shiver from my head all the way down my spine.
His breath was hot against my neck as he nipped and licked. Moans slipped from my lips with each increasingly strong drive of his cock. The pleasurable grip of his fingers tightened around my neck. What was a light, guiding hold became constrictive as his muscles tensed.
Trembling took hold as my body shook in clenching convulsions, my eyes unfocused and mouth open in a silent scream as I shattered in his arms. Pussy pulsing quakes of my orgasm sent him over the edge, his hips slamming against my ass as he bottomed out, groaning against my skin. I felt his powerful dick twitches as he emptied all the way inside me.
My head fell back against his shoulder, arms lax at my sides as he sat back on his haunches, our hard breaths in time as aftershocks pinged through me.
“Hungry now?” I asked between breaths.
“Famished.”
My stomach rumbled. “I want tacos.”
“Okay.”
The next morning I woke and sat straight up in the bed. Sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, lighting up the entire room.
The bed was empty, as was the room. My mouth stretched open in a yawn as my arms did as well, my back arching with a groan.
Stupid bed.
It was as bad as every other hotel, minus the one in Paris.
The only sounds were of cars and people on the street below. The door to the bathroom was open, but it was silent inside.
I stood and walked in, confirming something I was finding hard to believe—I was alone. Turning, I surveyed the room. Everything was in order, all of our bags, including all of his weapons.
My sleep addled brain attempted to figure it all out as I sat on the toilet, then went about my morning rituals before jumping into the shower.
Was he testing me? Or was he trusting me?
I could easily grab a gun and shoot him the moment he walked through the door. I could be free of him.
But.
The flip side was a great unknown.
I let the warm water beat down on my back as I stared at the blonde tips of my hair resting on my breasts. Another bit of evidence of my unending change, but could it be reversed?
Sure, if he was dead I would be free, but then what? There were three other highly trained killers who knew of me, and had the ability to track me down. Six wasn’t the only one I had to worry about. After seeing Jason, and hearing what he told Five, I was certain the rest of the Killing Corps knew about me.
That was if I could even do it, could kill him.
I stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towels hanging, patting the water droplets before wrapping it around my body.
Could I do it? Kill Six?
I threw my hair up into another towel and stared at my reflection. Let the feelings take over. Noticed the vice around my chest at the thought of him being gone.
He was going to kill me and had no qualms about it. Even after almost two months, it would be nothing for him.
I was nothing but another body in his wake. The latest in a long trail of blood.
He was a good actor—something I had to remind myself of. The moments where he seemed real, somewhat sweet, were nothing more than a ruse.
He didn’t care about me.
My face scrunched up and tears welled in my eyes.
“Get a grip, Paisley.”
It wasn’t logical, made no sense whatsoever, but the thought of being without him caused me pain and sadness.
I was a rational being. The emotions brewing within me were chaotic and stronger than comprehension for a man who had done terrible things and in the end, would snuff out my life.
Moving back into the room, I hauled my suitcase onto the bed and opened it up. With no idea what the day held, I threw on some panties and a tank top to wait for him to return.
I was running a brush through my wet hair when I heard the door click and turned in time to watch him glance first to the bed, then around the room.
“Hi,” I said as I continued with my task.
He stepped in, a few bags in tow, and shut the door.