The Assassin's Wife

by Nikita Slater

  The dark, scorching look he gave her told her without words that she better give him exactly what he wanted. She relaxed the muscles in her thighs and let them fall open, a whimper escaping her lips as he dove back into her pussy. She flung her head back into the pillows and filled the room with her cries as he licked and sucked her through orgasm after orgasm without giving her time to float down between each explosive height he forced on her. She clung tightly to the bedding underneath her, fisting it in shaking hands as she twisted and turned, thrashing in his relentless grip, screaming her passion.

  Tasha was so far gone that she barely noticed when he used the fluid flowing freely from her pussy to slide a figure deep into her anal passage, filling her vaginal passage with the fingers of his other hand, before continuing to tongue her once more, eating her like he could never get enough. She moaned, tears of ecstasy on her cheeks as he pumped fingers in and out of her while forcing her high once again, then tipping her over the dark ledge and into oblivion.

  “Blyad, David!” she screamed hoarsely. “No more, no more!”

  He crawled quickly up her body, positioned himself at her entrance and plunged deep into her body, stealing the words and breath from her in one brutal stroke. He took her head in between his hands and forced her glazed eyes to look up at him. “I will say when it is enough, Natasha. And it will never be enough.”

  She clung to him as he drove into her over and over again, driving them both relentlessly on. She tossed her head to the side and felt something wet touch her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw his tanned skin, leather… and blood. She turned to look up at him. His eyes flared for a second and then he bared his teeth at her, his thumb came down to touch her cheek as he drove into her so hard a scream escaped her lips. He smeared the blood across her face to her lips, marking her.

  “You… will… never fucking… leave again, Natasha,” he gritted out from above her.

  Pleasure rippled through her at the barbarism of his actions and words. She had truly managed to crack her cold husband. Her assassin. Once more her body flew higher, reaching, grasping for the orgasm he held just within reach, within his beautiful veined hands. She wanted it so bad. She tightened around him, her eyes drifting shut.

  “Say it!” he demanded.

  “Nikogda,” she murmured in breathless Russian, giving him what he wanted. Of course, she wouldn’t leave him. Why would she leave him? She couldn’t think of a single reason.

  “Again!” he demanded, shaking her as he continued to drive into her, his cock flaring wider.

  She moaned as her own orgasm reached up to meet his, hot and sizzling in its strength, mindless of his terrifying possessiveness. She forced her eyes open, looked deep into his and said, “Never!” before exploding around him.

  Her pussy gripped him like a velvet fist while warm fluid slid from her to soak them. He slammed into her one last time, burying himself deep into his wife and then bathed her cervix in hot jets of semen. The look he gave her as he stared down at her was one of such violent intensity it bordered on madness. It would have terrified her except she knew she could bring him back from the edge. She knew why he’d chosen her three years ago when he’d watched her dance. She was his peace.

  Tasha wrapped her arms around his neck and urged him down to her, pressing her lips insistently against his until he finally responded. He opened his mouth to hers with a small sigh and relaxed his shoulders, collapsing to the side of her, rolling her with him. She snuggled against his chest and continued to kiss him, running her hands over his muscular arms and torso until she felt the last of the primitive energy drain out of him, leaving her David behind.

  Finally, she wiggled until she was flush against him, her head tucked beneath his chin. She reached behind her, patting the bed until she felt a blanket that had been shoved to the side and pulled it over their cooling bodies. Then, with a sigh, she relaxed into the protective embrace of her husband and allowed herself to drift into sleep, safe in the knowledge that he would allow nothing to touch her.

  “Never leave me, Natasha,” he said from above her, his voice hard and cool. “If you go this time, I fear neither of us would survive.”

  Her breath caught for a moment and her heart fluttered. Then it picked back up into its steady rhythm and continued as if he’d not said anything. Perhaps her heart knew before she did; she would not go. She and the baby would just have to stay safe in the knowledge that David would keep them both forever. She nodded against his chest, placed her hand over his heart and allowed herself to sink into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Do it now, Tasha. You cannot have lies between you if you are to move forward with this marriage, she urged herself silently as she watched David pack his weapons with quiet efficiency. Well, not this lie anyway. There is only one more that you must keep. For now…

  They were preparing to leave Bogota within a few hours. They had slept the night away after David had returned to the hotel room and taken her body with fierce passion. He had woken her once more during the night, his hand firmly between her thighs and his forehead against hers. He had whispered things to her, both naughty and sweet until she had come all over his skilled fingers, her hips jerking against him. Then he had pulled her on top of him, forced her knees wide until she straddled him and slid her down until her pussy was clinging wetly to his thick cock. He’d pulled her foreword against his chest, tucking her under his chin and fucked up into her until they both came in a burst of fireworks and hoarse moans.

  In the soft light of morning David had returned to treating her with warm solicitation, as he had done after rescuing her from the lake. It was as though he was determined to show her that he could be the husband she needed. He could make her happy, if she gave him the chance. And she would give him the chance. But first, she had to prove to him that she could be honest and he would not retaliate. He would not take her once more down the dark path he had treated her to once he caught up with her after she’d run from him.

  “David,” she whispered, eyes downcast.

  He turned to her. She gazed at him from beneath her nearly black lashes. He was so heartbreakingly gorgeous. He wore his usual city attire of a superbly cut dark suit with a dark collared shirt underneath. He left the shirt open at the neck, revealing the cords of his strong throat. She didn’t know how other women didn’t stare at him and fall to his feet everywhere he went. Except that David chose to blend in with his surroundings. He did not want to be noticed.

  “Da?” He looked at her knowingly.

  “I-I have to tell you something,” she said quietly, staring at the ugly hotel carpet. How come in all her pacing she never noticed how truly terrible the fabric was? Her eyes darted around. The curtains were also awful.

  “Look at me, Natasha,” David said in a firm voice. She looked up at him and flinched back a little. He’d stepped closer. “Now speak, Rebenok.”

  She laughed bitterly on the inside. If he was calling her a child then he must know she was confessing to something he was not going to like. Like a child caught doing something naughty, she hoped his anger would not be so severe as it might have been once upon a time. She licked her lips and tried to look as guileless as possible while confessing to the one thing she knew he would absolutely not tolerate from her.

  “I was going t-to find a way to leave you,” she told him, doing her level best to maintain his hard stare. It was very difficult. At the moment, she was feeling every single one of the years that separated them in age.

  His shoulders stiffened and she saw his fingers clench slightly, otherwise he gave no other indication that he was affected by her words. He nodded and said quietly, “When were you to have done this?”

  Was he being a little too quiet? She shivered a little, but continued with her confession. “I was going to lie to you. I was going to tell you I l-lost the baby,” she whispered, unconsciously dropping her hand to her stomach. “Then I was going to find a way to leave you. Either at the airport if the
opportunity presented itself, or in town, at the mountains.”

  He nodded slightly, his dark eyes fathomless as he studied her. He was standing so still she had to wonder for a moment if he had listened to her. But she knew he had. Of course, he had. Or why else would he just stand there, motionless? As he continued to watch her silently, she began to wonder if this was it. The last time he would trust her. Would he chain her to him so tight neither of them would ever breathe again?

  He stepped toward her and brought his hands up so swiftly she cried out, closing her eyes, expecting the worst. He clasped her face in the warm palms of his hands and tilted her head up gently. Her heart thundered in her chest. She blinked until she felt steady enough to look back at him as he seemed to be patiently waiting for her to do. She gave him a hopeful look. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the flash of his wedding band in the light of the room.

  “Natasha, my love,” he said, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “Thank you for telling me this. I know it was difficult for you. And thank you for not running away from me. I know I have said terrible things to you and for this I deserve your doubt. I… am grateful,” he stopped for a second, almost overcome by emotion as he leaned his head against hers, “that you have entrusted the life of our unborn child to my protection. I will not fail you again, my love. Moya zhena.”

  A sob escaped her lips and she reached up to clutch his shoulders, pressing her cheek against his and whispering back, “Moy muzh.”

  Tears clouded her vision as he nodded and set her away from him. He smoothed her hair back from her head and straightened the strap of her dress which had slid down her shoulder. He touched a tear as it escaped from her eye and chuckled softly. She looked startled at the sound. He laughed so rarely.

  “You were expecting anger, were you not, little dancer?” he asked turning away to complete his packing.

  She nodded emphatically. “Of course! If you recall, David, you were quite angry with me last time I ran away from you.”

  He gave her a level look, eyebrows low over dark eyes, the brackets around his mouth suddenly pulled into harsh lines. “If you recall, wife,” he stressed the word causing a delicate shudder to ripple down her spine. She busied herself with folding clothing into her suitcase while he spoke. “The first time you left, you disappeared for two years. Quite effectively, I might add. And the second time you ran, you nearly killed yourself.”

  She stopped folding the yoga pants she was holding, her fingers frozen in the fabric. She stared sightlessly into her suitcase and whispered, “I had good reason.”

  His hands curved over her shoulders for a second and then his arms encircled her, holding her tight against his chest. She let her head fall back into the him, let him cradle her. “I know,” he said in her ear. “I am so fucking sorry, Natasha. You will never know how much.”

  She nodded, soaking in his strength. And his… love. Because she knew that must be what it was. She had always called it obsession before. But she knew now that David could not feel such depths of emotion for just an obsession. If it was just obsession, he would not go out of his way to make her feel so protected and safe. He would not bother to explain himself to her. He would have been angry at her confession. Perhaps David did not recognize love for what it was because he’d never in his life known such emotion except from his wife.

  She turned in his arms, not an easy task as he was holding her so tight. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her face against his chest and murmured, “Ya lyublyu tebya, David.”

  He kissed the top of her head and murmured huskily, “I know.”

  She grinned and buried her face against his powerful chest. She did not mind that he didn’t return her words of love. It was his way. She knew what was in his heart, even if he did not. It was enough that he called her by the endearment “my love” all the time, which made her positively glow when he said it in English with their shared accent. Though she swore his was so much heavier and sexier than hers.

  She placed a kiss against the ridge of his pectoral muscle, then stood on tiptoe and licked the base of his neck, breathing hotly against his skin. He captured the back of her neck in a strong grip and tilted her head, his eyes piercing hers with instant fire. She smiled wickedly up at him.

  “You want us to miss our flight, my love?” he asked, his accent deep and delicious.

  She shivered. Ah, there it is!

  “Yes please,” she whispered back.

  He arched a surprised brow at her and chuckled for the second time in mere minutes. “Bad girl,” he teased, his fingers tightening in her hair. “That deserves a spanking.”

  The breath caught in her throat and her skin pricked, flushing from her cheeks, down her bare arms right to her ass. She knew, just knew he wasn’t kidding. What a dominant beast her husband was. She licked her lips, her eyes dilating in invitation. The edge of his thin lip quirked slightly. He released her and stepped away.

  “After we land in Canada.”

  She pouted all the way to the airport.

  Chapter Thirty

  Four weeks later

  “Natasha, pay attention,” David said sharply, coldly.

  He rarely spoke to her that way anymore. In fact, she had grown so used to him speaking to her in soft, warm tones that it was almost startling to have him speak rudely to her. Or it would be, if his rock-hard chest weren’t plastered against her back and his crotch molded against her soft ass. It also didn’t really faze her because his thick arms were bracketing hers, helping her hold them steady as she extended his silenced gun toward a seemingly innocent tree in the clearing behind their cabin.

  She eyed the offensive tree and tried really hard not to pay attention to the way his jeans slid against the soft fabric of her yoga pants when he bent his knees to accommodate her height while teaching her to shoot. But there were so many factors working against her! Like how much she hated learning to shoot. Hated it with a foot-stomping, tantrum-throwing, completely-out-of-character-for-her passion. Yet, he still insisted she learn in case one of his enemies tracked them down. In theory, she understood. Totally understood! She agreed that, at the very least, the baby should be protected. In practice? She massively sucked at shooting.

  She closed her eyes as soon as the thought of the bullet leaving the chamber entered her head, let alone her finger going anywhere near the trigger. So far, she’d shot the cabin. Three times. Once shattering a studio window, which had made her cry so hard David had immediately driven down the mountain to order a replacement window. She’d shot the wood shed. Twice. She’d shot countless trees. Not the ones she was aiming at. She was pretty sure she nearly shot a squirrel. Which had resulted in another storm of crying until David had assured her the quite traumatized squirrel had survived. Needless to say, she was an embarrassment to her assassin husband, who a month after the lessons begun, was no longer amused by her lack of progress.

  “Open your eyes, Natasha, for the love of god!” Wow, he actually sounded frustrated. He never got frustrated. “Stiffen your arms, straighten your back. Actually, fucking aim at what you want to hit, woman.”

  She sighed, stiffened her arms like he said and straightened her back, which pushed her ass into his crotch a little. The breath whooshed out of her and she moaned a little. This was her second problem with learning to shoot. She had rapidly passed through the nausea part of her pregnancy and into rampant horniness. She wanted sex. All. The. Time. Which David wouldn’t have a problem with exactly, except he really seemed to think she needed to learn how to shoot. Yet, every time he touched her even a little bit intimately her brain short-circuited and all she could think about was how to get his pants off and his dick inside her in the fastest amount of time possible. Which David seemed pretty much on board with… except when he was teaching her how to shoot.

  Unless she managed to somehow divert his attention. She twisted in his arms, holding the gun out to the side, her wrist limp. She put her other hand on his chest, looked up at
him and blinked innocently. “David, may I ask you a question, pozhaluysta?” She knew now that they were in Canada she shouldn’t be using Russian, but she couldn’t help herself. She knew he loved it.

  He sighed heavily, probably knowing where she was headed, but he was rapidly learning that denying his wife anything was an impossibility. He placed a hand on her hip and asked gruffly, “What is it now, Natasha?”

  “How long do we keep trying before we agree that I’m a complete failure at guns?” she asked, purposely fanning her breath against his throat.

  She was pleased to see him pause and then swallow with some difficulty. She moved a little closer and rubbed her breasts against him. They had grown a little fuller in the past weeks and definitely more sensitive. It felt very good to rub against him. Very distracting. She hadn’t wanted to shoot to begin with, now all she could think of was how to get him on board with getting his pants off.

  “Failure is not an option, Natasha,” he said sternly. She was pressed so tightly against him that his breath stirred the hairs on top of her head.

  Oh my… should the no-nonsense tone of his voice be doing such wonderful naughty things to her? Was it just hormones or was the strict, disciplinarian attitude of his responsible for the wetness going on south of her naval? Hot images of her climbing him, humping him, sinking onto his thick, always ready cock flashed crazily through her brain until she thought she would burst. She wanted to lick him everywhere, but not on his clothes so he needed to take those off so she could get to his skin. Then she could touch and lick to her heart’s content. Oh god, she was truly going to burn up from these wild hormones!

  “Natasha!” he groaned, fisting a hand helplessly in her hair. “Blyad, woman, I can feel the heat coming off your body. You need to calm down and focus.”

  She shook her head a little to knock the x-rated images out of her brain and puffed a sigh, which hit him in the throat again. She bit back a grin when he snarled something truly nasty in Russian. Her husband forgot they were hiding out in another country way more often than she did. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye she held her gun hand out again and dropped the gun in the dirt. She ignored David’s snarled, “Natasha, that is not how we treat my weapons!” as she dropped to her knees in front of him, careful to scrape the front of her body against his crotch as she went.