Free CAUGHT: A Hitman Romance by Stella Noir Page B

evening dress and presses my pelvis against himself.
    “Come,” he breathes between our kiss, before he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and he turns around, carrying me to the bedroom while I continue to taste his lips.
    He didn’t drink any of the whiskey, yet there is a somewhat sweet and smoky taste to him.
    His well fitting suit already suggested that he is quite muscular underneath, but now that he is carrying me and my body is pressed so closely against his that I can actually feel his strength handling me as if I weigh nothing.
    I yelp in surprise when he throws me onto his bed. I hadn’t even realized that we had reached the bedroom and I scan the room with confusion while he is standing in front of me. He takes off his suit jacket and lets it fall to the floor, unfazed by what it might do to the undoubtedly expensive material.
    “What do you like?” he asks, raising his chin defiantly.
    I look up at him, fixing my dress, which I know is a silly move considering what we are about to do.
    “What do you m—”
    “In bed,” he interrupts, now loosening his tie. “I’m hungry. Can I take you the way I need you?”
    I don’t know what to say and just stare up at him, which I think is probably the least satisfying answer I could give him right now.
    He gets rid of his tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt while his eyes pin me down on the bed, incapable of moving. His gaze is dark and confident, full of promises that are alluring and frightening at the same time.
    I want to touch him. I don’t like this distance between us. Before he can finish unbuttoning his shirt, I get up on my knees on the bed in front of him.
    “Let me,” I whisper, and gently move his hands away before I continue what he started. For a moment, I’m afraid that he won’t let me and get angry instead, but he just chuckles, willingly removing his hands and watching me as I open the last few buttons.
    “I won’t be this gentle with you,” he promises when I part the now open shirt and reveal his marvelous chest.
    To my surprise, there is a big and salient tattoo on his lower side. I slowly peel him out of his shirt to have a better look at it.
    “Oh,” I exclaim. “I like this!”
    The tattoo appears to be some kind of snake or dragon, or something in between. The creature is coiling across his right pelvis, decorating an impressive set of muscles. I follow the black lines with the tip of my finger as if I was caressing the snake’s scales.
    His entire upper body is solid and strong, as if he was wearing permanent armor. I cannot help but notice the many scars that grace his slightly tan skin.
    My hands look like they belong to a pale child when I place them against his buff chest, gently running along the trenches created by his muscles.
    He lets it happen, but reaches for my chin, holding it in a strong grip between his index finger and his thumb when he tilts my head back and my eyes up to him.
    “Now, answer me,” he whispers. “Can I take your delicious little body like I need it?”
    “What does that mean?” I breathe, although I am beginning to get an understanding of what he might be talking about. He is not gentle, not careful. He is a man who knows what he wants and he will take it just like that.
    “Rough,” he says, not much to my surprise. “Rough, wild, relentless.”
    His words send a shiver down my spine—and to other places, I might add. I like his assertiveness. It is not only flattering to be wanted like this, but also very, very enticing.
    “Yes,” I hiss, emphasizing the S as if I was impersonating the sexy snake on his pelvis. “Yes, please take me.”
    And so he does.
    I cannot suppress a girlish shriek when he darts forward, pushing me on my back on the bed and placing himself on top of me, now pinning me down with the weight of his body instead of just his eyes.
    His lips are on mine within seconds, claiming me with unknown force. I start writhing beneath him, but can hardly move,