The Hitman's Desire: A Mafia Romance (The Silent Family Book 1)

by T Steele

  He groans at the feel of our tongues as they dance around one another.

  He pulls away with wild eyes, chest heaving. “Can I touch you?” His voice is ragged.

  I nod, unable to speak.

  He stands with me still in his arms as if I weigh nothing and sets me gently on the bed. “Can I undress you?”

  I bite my lip as nervous anticipation coils inside me. I lift my arms in silent assent that he can take my shirt off.

  He obeys.

  Next, he grabs my hand. “Stand up,” he says.

  I obey.

  My bra, shorts, and underwear come off next, and then he stands back, admiring me. His jaw clenches and white hot lust swims in his eyes.

  “You’re a goddess,” he breathes.

  I feel color blooming on my cheeks as I flush.

  “I could stare at you naked all day. I’m not even worthy of this,” he says reverently, licking his lips. Then, “Lay down and spread your legs,” he demands.

  The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I do as he says, still feeling a tad self-conscious, but John clearly likes what he’s seeing. With that thought in mind, I slowly spread my legs until they can be spread no more.

  There's this deep, feral noise he makes from the back of his throat, and his body shudders as his eyes zoom directly to the place between my thighs.

  Then, he comes closer. He leans down, giving me a heated kiss. Just as our tongues touch, he pulls away, his icy eyes intense as he says, “Now I’m going to show you just how to touch yourself when you’re alone.”

  I close my eyes, covering them with my hands, turned on and embarrassed, and he lifts my hands from my face.

  "I would've given anything to see it," he whispers.

  And then I watch his eyes roam over my body. Drinking me in. Absorbing every detail. He stares at me like I’m a brilliant work of art. As if he’s never seen anything so beautiful.

  His clothes brush against my bare skin as he lays beside me, leaning on his elbow. “We can stop whenever you want. Just say the word.”

  "Aren't you getting undressed, too?"

  His eyes darken even more. "I don't have that much self-control, Ruby. For now, I think it's best if I stay fully clothed."

  Disappointment fills me, but I bite my lip and nod regardless.

  John leans down and kisses me slowly. His lips are so soft. His tongue, thick and wet and warm, swirls around mine and I gasp.

  Tingles and goosebumps erupt over my body as his lips trail down my jawline. When he gets to the swells of my breasts, they feel full and heavy, and I can’t help but arch my back. Almost begging for him to touch me there. Kiss me there.

  “Let’s see how sensitive your breasts are,” John says softly. “Has anyone touched you here before, Ruby?” I shake my head no, at a loss for words, and he grins wolfishly.

  His head rests in his hand on a propped elbow, and with his free hand, he cups one of my breasts. And when his thumb finally slides across my nipple, I cry out.

  John takes his eyes off of my breasts to smile at me.

  It’s the first real smile I’ve seen from him, and it’s dark and beautiful and full of things I dare not even speak of. Things I dare not even think of.

  He hovers over me. His thumb glides across my nipples, achingly slow. A delicious torture that causes heat to build in my lower belly.

  “So responsive.” His voice comes out deep and velvety. Smooth. Like a smooth glass of whiskey. “You’re really going to like this then.”

  His mouth comes down, closing around my erect nipple. When his wet tongue flicks over it quickly, a high mewling sound erupts from me.

  This urges John on. He brings my breasts together as if his hands are my very own push-up bra before he sticks his tongue out and moves his head side to side across each nipple. His eyes watch my every move as his head continues to bob and weave like a slow, sensual dance. Like he’s a snake, and I’m a snake charmer who has him under a wicked spell.

  My hips buck, and I feel the lips of my sex clench. My body’s like a rocket that’s been lit; the fire started in my belly, and it’s gradually moving south.

  And when John’s hand glides along that same path, as if he, too, is the fire, I know it won't be long until I explode.

  His calloused hand slightly tickles as it travels down my stomach. I’m like a map that he’s not yet traveled, and he seems to be enjoying the ride. My chest heaves, his tongue never leaves my breasts, and when his hand finally reaches the bundle of nerves between my thighs, I moan before biting my lip, trying not to be so loud.

  “If we were in my room, you could be as loud as you wanted . . . my walls are soundproof,” he says hoarsely against my breasts.

  My head falls back at the thought of being in his room, being able to do whatever we wanted, being as loud as we wanted.

  His finger slides between the lips of my sex and I tense. John stops immediately, and his mouth leaves my nipples to stare up at me, a savage, wild look in his eyes. “Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?”

  “Yes,” I moan, and John sits up, chest heaving with his eyes closed as if he’s trying to calm himself down. “I mean, no! Don’t stop. I’m sorry. It’s—I’m just nervous. No one has ever touched me like this before.”

  John stares at me. "Fuck me. I'm the luckiest sonofabitch alive." His voice is rough and gravelly, and his hands tremble as if he needs to reach out and touch me.

  I tilt my head back, running my fingers through my hair, my back arching, lifting my nipples closer to where his mouth was and where I’m hoping it will soon be once more.

  “Please,” I breathe, “Please, keep going.” And I feel mortified asking that of him, of the way I’m moving and acting, but I can't seem to help myself.

  John gives another heart-stopping smile before he buries his face back in my breasts, and his fingers slide between my thighs. I throw a hand over my mouth, trying to keep myself from moaning.

  “Fuck, I love those noises you make,” he says as his fingers move back and forth to the tiny bundle of nerves then to the wetness at my core. And when he starts moving his fingers in a circular motion, my hips buck, seeking more.

  His head pops up to stare at me, studying and observing my reactions, and I notice the veins in his neck are sticking out, stark against his pale skin. His chest is heaving as he speaks, “This right here,” he jerks his head toward what he’s doing with his hand, “is how you should touch yourself. You may like a little pressure.” His finger presses down a little harder, still moving in tiny circles. I cry out as my hips buck. “Or maybe you’d like this better.” He sticks the tip of his finger inside me while his thumb focuses on my clit.

  Sweat glistens on his skin and he bites his lip as he studies my face. And I’m so exposed and vulnerable, but I can’t focus on anything except what his hands are doing to me. Unintelligible noises leave my mouth when his finger plunges deeper inside my wet heat, making a curling motion while his palm continues the firm, tiny circles.

  “John,” I moan, and his lips part, eyes closing as if he’s enjoying this just as much as I am. “Oh God, John I—” My hips move faster. Vigorously. Uncontrollably. My head whips back and forth, and I feel intense pleasure explode through me. John's fingers keep moving, helping me get the most out of my orgasm, leaving me feeling completely satisfied. The way I respond to him is like he's a drug, because my body is already starting to crave more.

  When I open my eyes, and my body is limp, I find John staring at me. The look in his eyes can only be described as awe. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

  And I smile. So wide, it makes my cheeks hurt.

  John’s hand comes up to caress my cheek, his finger tracing my smile. And I’m suddenly aware of the position we’re still in.

  Noticing this as well, he pulls his finger out of me, and I bite my lip at the emptiness he leaves behind, my walls clenching and unclenching. He looks right into my eyes before placing his finger—that same finger that was inside me—in his mou
th, licking it clean.

  I shiver, eyes widening at the fact that he did that and also that I find it so intriguing.

  When he shifts his body, I feel a wetness on his pants and notice the bulge there as well.

  John grins when he catches me looking and runs a hand through his messy hair, for once looking boyish instead of sinister. “Ruby,” his deep voice rumbles, “no man in their right mind would have been able to resist the urge to cum if they saw you the way I just did.”

  My cheeks flush, and I sit up, suddenly feeling the need to cover myself, both flattered and embarrassed by his words. They made me feel like some bold, wanton goddess who makes men bow to her every whim.

  “I—” I start, then stop, not really knowing what to say to that.

  He cuts me off, gently grabbing my chin. His thumb traces my lips. “Don’t ever feel embarrassed in front of me.”

  I sigh with a slight nod. Then I gesture to the bulge in his pants. “Are you sure . . . you don’t . . .”

  He shifts, rearranging his pants, and sits up as well, staring into my eyes. Staring into me. Even though we’ve just shared something so intimate, I feel almost more vulnerable when his penetrating eyes stare into mine.

  “It’s fine, Ruby. This was just about you.” He leans forward as if to kiss me, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he reaches out with the back of his knuckles to caress my cheek. “Rest. Get some sleep. I’m going to go get a change of clothes.”

  And then he’s standing up and walking out the door. He doesn’t look back.

  Chapter Five

  The next day while eating breakfast, Liz decides we need to hang out. A black bodysuit clings to her curves with a loose, pink and white polka dot bow tie. I felt like a slob next to her in my T-shirt and jeans.

  “What should we do?” I ask

  “I could show you where John’s car is.”

  For a second, I panic, wondering why she thought I would want to know about his car—wondering why I would want to know anything about John, wondering if she knows what happened between us.

  It was undoubtedly all I thought about. I’d fallen asleep and hadn’t heard him come back. When I awoke this morning, he wasn’t in my room. I was worried about seeing him again, but also excited.

  And scared.

  And embarrassed.

  Liz gives me a look as if to say ‘Girl, chill.’ “You’re a mechanic, right? And from the sounds of it, he could use a good mechanic after that car chase the other day.”

  I suddenly laugh. It must have been a little louder than intended, because a few heads turn to look at us, but my relief is so sharp it’s impossible to hold back. “Yes,” I finally get out when my laughter subsides, and Liz stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  But then, she smiles with a slight nod of her head. “You’re a little insane. I like you.”

  I snort with a roll of my eyes. “Wow, thanks so much.”

  She smiles brightly. “You’re welcome. Anyway . . . I thought if I showed you where John’s car was, you could fix it up real nice and show it to Daddy, ya know? Like a peace offering, and then you can leave the house again. I feel like if he sees you working like everyone else, he’ll give you a job.”

  “You’re a fucking genius.”

  “I know.”

  Liz and I walk through the house that I’m still barely familiar with and reach the back entrance. She opens the door to a beautiful, private backyard area that’s completely fenced in with an inground pool, hot tub, and swingset—I’m guessing for the twins. Although the thought of the muscular mob men playing on it makes me bite my lip to suppress a giggle.

  There’s also a barn that looks inconspicuous, and I hear Drake’s “Money in the Grave” playing from the inside. Liz starts dancing and singing the lyrics as she walks.

  “Not a fan of rap?” she asks.

  “Sometimes,” I say, “I mostly like rock, though.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I hope you’re not as emo as John.”

  I laugh. “That’s better than ‘I didn’t think blondes listened to rock music.’”

  She puts a hand to her chest. “Noooo, did someone seriously say that to you?”

  “Yes.”

  She shakes her head, laughing. “I don’t even want to know what people say to you once they realize you’re a mechanic.”

  “You really don’t.”

  “Now close your eyes,” she says in a sing-song voice once we reach the barn.

  I do as I’m told and hear a door open, and the rap music blares louder.

  “Open them.”

  I do, and I’m amazed. The barn is a nice garage. Nice being an understatement.

  Wrenches, ratchets, and sockets hang on the wall. There are a few pneumatic lifts and jacks, among many, many other things. An air compressor turns on, startling Liz, but I only smile wider. The smell of oil and gas wafts in my nose. It’s oddly comforting, something I’m used to.

  And then I see John’s car. The back windshield is shattered, a taillight has fallen out, and the back bumper has a small dent. All in all, it’s not too bad considering everything we’d gone through. It’ll be an easy fix.

  I walk over to it, inspecting everything, muttering to myself as I tap on the hood. “You poor girl. Don’t worry. I’ll fix you right up.”

  “How sweet,” a deep voice croons.

  I tense and look up to see one of my dad’s soldiers. I’d only seen him the first day I was here—Ryder, Liz’s brother.

  He’s covered in tattoos, and his dreadlocks are pulled up. Sweat glistens on his dark skin, and his muscles bulge as he crosses his arms.

  I stand up straight, raising my chin as if I’m not terrified of being seen here, and when I look around, I notice all the men are staring at me. All of them are intimidating and well over six feet with thick, corded muscles. The expressions on their faces make me feel as if I’m going to be their next meal.

  The man smiles, smelling my fear, and is amused by it. Liz gives him a playful shove.

  “Come on, Ryder. What do you think the Boss will do to you if he catches you fucking around with his daughter?”

  “She came here to my shop. How do I know she won’t screw something up or go crying to Daddy if she breaks a nail?”

  I glare up at him. “I’m here because I’m a mechanic, and I want to fix John’s car.”

  “You fucking John?”

  “No!” I say, more defensively than I meant, feeling my face heat.

  The guy smiles, looking as though he’s trying to suppress a laugh. “Then why do you want to fix his car?”

  “Ryder, just let her fix the damn car,” Liz says, exasperated.

  Ryder raises a brow. “Trying to appear useful to Daddio?”

  “Yes,” I say, bluntly. “I had a life back home that I was used to. I don’t want to stay locked up here forever.”

  “Fair enough, but I’ll have to assign you a babysitter.”

  I stare around pointedly. “Isn’t everyone here watching me?”

  His eyes do a quick sweep of my body. “That’s exactly why you need someone watching out for you. I don’t need the Boss killing any of my men in here.”

  I swallow, feeling the insides of my palms sweat. But, before I can say anything, John is suddenly there.

  “Ryder, what the fuck are you doing?” he asks, coming to stand in front of me.

  Ryder throws his head back, laughing. “Nothing. I was just getting ready to ravage the tasty little dish standing behind you.”

  I’m about to make a retort, knowing that he’s trying to get under John’s skin, but John’s movements are quicker. He has Ryder on his back with a bloody nose, his knife at his throat.

  “John, stop!” I shriek, and his head whips up to look at me.

  Instead of the emotionless robot I’d seen the first night he’d taken a life, he now looks crazed and wild. I’m about to step forward when Liz stops me, a fearful look in her eyes. It’s then I notice everyone in the garage is just w
atching, but nobody intervenes.

  John snarls, standing in one quick, fluid motion. He grabs my hand and practically drags me out of there.

  I look back to Liz, and she watches me go with a nervous glint in her eye.

  “John,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking. I don’t know where we’re going.

  Finally, he pulls me into a bedroom. It’s enormous, just like the rest of the rooms, but everything is black or maroon and practical. I sense that this is his room, and my nerves mount even higher. Why would he bring me to his room alone?

  He slams the door before lifting me against it and crashing his lips to mine. I let out a surprised gasp, and then his tongue is shoving its way inside my mouth, licking and exploring. I feel the bulge in his pants, and my core ignites with lust. John gently sets me on the ground before yanking my pants down to my ankles. He kneels before me, his eyes more crazed than before. They’re almost black, fully dilated, and smoldering. “Is this okay?” he asks roughly.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  He motions for me to step out of my jeans and then stares up at me, never losing eye contact as he pulls my panties down with his teeth.

  My breath hitches in response.

  I stand utterly bare before him, and he places a gentle kiss right on my pubic bone, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good,” he growls.

  I don’t respond, too stunned to form speech in this moment.

  John’s hands lightly roam up my legs, ankle to hip, before he nudges my feet apart. He lifts one of my legs, bending it at the knee and throwing it over his shoulder. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, “just relax.”

  And then, I feel his tongue in the place his fingers were the night before. My head falls back with a thud against the door.

  His tongue enters me, not holding anything back. I hear an “mmm . . .” noise that rumbles out from the back of his throat, and I cry out.

  He pauses, eyeing me ravenously. “Remember, you can be as loud as you want here. Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”