Hostage of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  Delaney’s eyes are filled with desire as they look up at me, my body a statue for her to gaze at, looming over her. Those blue eyes of hers are endless, full of innocence despite everything that’s happened in the past few days. I’ve pushed her to her breaking point, very possibly beyond, and still, she endures.

  I smile, wondering if her body will prove to have as much endurance and hunger.

  There’s hesitation in her eyes, I realize. Those beautiful blue eyes are roving up and down my body, and I don’t have to follow them to realize what she’s noticing. I’ve gotten a number of scars on my body over the years, either from the combat I saw as a youth or injuries from my career with the mafia. There’s one long knife wound scar on my side, a large scar from a bullet wound in my shoulder, and even some nearly-healed burn wounds on my hip from a motorcycle accident not too long ago.

  “Tell me, girl,” I say, striding over to the edge of the bed, my cock bulging in my pants as I flexed my hands and looked down at her hungrily. “You’ve never seen violence, have you?”

  She swallows, licking her lips as she looks up at me cautiously, the thoughts of my scars dispelled from her by my gaze, at least for a moment. Finally, she shakes her head gently, her soft blonde tresses swaying as she does.

  “Of course you haven’t,” I say, reaching down to her ankle and pulling her to the edge of the bed without warning, rubbing my thumb gently on her calf, “you’ve been in an ivory tower your whole life. Now, you’re mine. How does it feel, girl?”

  Before she can answer, I reach down, slipping my hand under her neck and pulling her up into a kiss, a deep, passionate kiss without tenderness or gentility. I want her, and I will have her. And as she moans softly into it, utterly taken off guard, she wraps her hands around my waist, wanting me just as badly.

  She feels my sides, taking in every ripple and muscle, every inch of it a reminder that this body had been used to kill many people just a few moments ago — to kill for her. To protect her. And when her eyes rise to meet mine, I see them recognize me for the first time as a guardian, not just a killer.

  “Dangerous,” she finally answers, the word unsteady. I can tell she isn’t sure how she feels about it — or rather, she isn’t sure how to deal with the fact that her body seems to like it very, very much.

  “Is that so?” I say, a smirk on my face as I slip my hands under her ass and pull her forward, hoisting her up into my arms. She instinctively puts her hands behind my neck for support, and she nods carefully as I turn and start to walk opposite the bed.

  “I’ve never met someone who made me feel so...I’m not sure. Real?” she ventures, looking up at me with furrowed eyebrows. I chuckle, and her eyes turn to where I’m heading, then widen.

  “You alone should be the one to listen to what your body wants,” I say, stroking her back as I carry her to the window. “Because you’re the only one who can revel in it as much as it deserves.” As I reach the window with the gentle breeze blowing through it, I set her down on the open windowsill, holding her firmly on it, my hands a strong support for her.

  Instinctively, she covers herself, glancing out the window with a little anxiety written on her face despite my strong grip. “Darios,” she hisses, “I’m- I’m naked, someone could see!”

  I grin, reaching behind her and unclasping her bra, pulling it away as she shivers. “At this height, that should be the least of your worries, chemo kargo.”

  Kneeling down, still holding onto her hips firmly as she grips the edges of the windowsill, I use my free hand to part her thighs and scoot her to the very edge of the windowsill. I hear her take a sharp breath as I lean forward, bringing my mouth to her exposed cunt. I can smell her lust on her, the rush of the moment still making her heart race and her face flush even as she glances over her shoulder.

  In truth, this is more dangerous than I’d usually let things go. There were men with guns still retreating, and all it would take is for one of them to come back for a moment to see her, or one of my men to go after them and look over a shoulder to see Delaney’s naked frame in the window, my hand the only thing keeping her up from a three-story fall. And I’m about to drive her to thrashing in ecstasy on that perch.

  I let out a hungry groan as I bring my face to her cunt, and she sighs, squirming in my grip a little. “There are many sweet things about you, girl,” I growl into her pussy, my voice low and full of desire, “but the taste of your cunt is one of the sweetest.”

  Before she can reply, I draw my tongue up her slit, and she shudders in pleasure, the heat of her cunt like an aura that only grows warmer as I draw my tongue up again, then again. Delaney is tense, though. I can feel her fear of the precipice she’s on taking over, and she wants to struggle against her body’s impulses, her desire for more pleasure, more ecstasy that only I can give her.

  But I become relentless in my stroking, and once honey coats my mouth, I move up to her clit, bringing my tongue to a point and pressing up against the sensitive, swollen nub. As soon as it touches, she lets out a yelp that makes my hardened cock twitch in my pants.

  My tongue starts lashing out relentlessly against her clit, and I hear Delaney’s short, quick moans with each stroke, the tension within her wrestling with the pressure of desire building up, begging to be released.

  Her back starts to lean backwards out the window despite herself, but my grip is secure, and my forearm muscles keep her steady on the edge as I torture her clit, tongue darting out in a machine-like rhythm as I drive her closer and closer to pleasure, not sparing her for a moment’s respite as I let my tongue roll over her whole cunt, licking up the honey that spills out of her freely as I feel her start to tense.

  “I tortured you last time,” I say, “but now, I’ll let you decide which is more cruel.” Before she can ask what I mean, my tongue starts lashing out harder and faster than ever, digging deep into the swollen, needy folds of her cunt as my tongue absolutely torments Delaney’s clit, her narrow hips trying to edge forward into me as I deal hard, quick strikes to that most sensitive spot.

  “Oh my god, Darios,” she sighs, a pained, tense squeak bursting with desire, with need for me. “Oh my god, I can’t, I- I-” she struggles, and a grin tugs at the corners of my mouth as I don’t let up, only growing more and more rhythmic and ever harder, the long strokes of my muscles not relenting with each contact unless I feel her tremble under me.

  “Ohhh, Darios!” she cries out, heedless of the open window as I feel her muscles tighten, her thighs clenching around my head as her calves wrap around my neck, her whole body pressing up into me.

  And even then, I don’t stop.

  My tongue keeps lashing out, even as she tries to pull back, her gasps growing desperate, and I turn my eyes up to her to see her cheeks flushed red, her jaw hanging agape as she fights to keep control over her body and the paralyzing sensations I’m overwhelming her every muscle with. Yet even as she struggles, she pushes into me further, hungering for more, needing more.

  She’s greedy. She’s always been greedy, even for punishment, and now it’s given her body an itch that only I can scratch. I let my tongue delve deep into her, flexing and filling up so much of her, then slowly pulling out and up to her clit as my strong hands hold her in place, one keeping her from death, the other keeping her thighs pried apart. Orgasm after orgasm rolls through her, racking her whole body as she grips the sides of the windowsill, letting out cries of bliss as her lower abdomen tightens and relaxes, pulsing and twitching with abandon, my hand the only thing keeping her from flailing out the window.

  “I don’t...I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whimpers, and my cock is threatening to burst from my pants, it’s so thick.

  I raise my head, taking her neck in my free hand and pulling her into a kiss, letting her taste her own honey with a low growl from my chest. “This is your punishment, brat,” I growl as I undo my pants, letting my monstrously hard cock spring free.

  “For what?” she breathes, opening tho
se desperate blue eyes, licking her come from her lips.

  “For making it impossible to get you out of my mind,” I reply, and before she can answer, I fill her up with my cock.

  Immediately, I feel her tighten around me, and she lets out a deep, satisfied sigh, melting into my hands as I hold her up. Any other woman would be a ragdoll by now as I start to buck into her, my own energy charging me with vigor, balls slapping against her ass as I deliver thrust after thrust, but Delaney is special.

  “How much lust do you have, girl,” I whisper, “that you can stay hungry for more after I’ve given you so much?”

  “You drive me fucking crazy,” she pouts, burying her face in my chest as I grip her hips, and I feel my cock arch upwards with tension, and she yelps as my bulging crown hits her g-spot. “Please, just don’t stop!”

  I take a fistful of her hair, tilting her head back and out the window as I lean over her while another orgasm shakes her whole body. “I like to hear you beg,” I whisper into her ear, and I push myself into her to the hilt, her tight cunt desperately trying to get all of me as I overwhelm her, bucking her harder and faster, her breaths short as her eyes roll into the back of her head.

  No woman has ever made my cock swell so much, dig so deep, seek so much in a woman’s folds as Delaney. I took this spoiled woman like a prize, but now the unthinkable has happened, I realize.

  I’m falling in love with her.

  My bucking grows faster, my hips like a piston ramming in and out of her, but my cock feels so fucking natural in her pampered body that it fuels my anger that her beauty has transformed into pure, energetic passion.

  “I need you, Darios,” she whines, and my cock responds. I feel myself tightening within her, but I restrain myself for just a little while longer yet. I want to push Delaney to her limits.

  She leans back, my cock bucking so far up into her that she’s nearly being pushed off the ledge. Then I feel her tension building up with something stronger than she’s experienced before, and her suddenly widening eyes tell me she feels it too.

  I let my restraints loose, feeling my bulge swell fuller than ever inside her as I let out a groan, filling every inch of her cunt as she lets go of the windowsill reaching forward and wrapping her arms around my neck, totally relying on me to keep her up as I plough into her, feeling our tensions build up together to very high.

  Finally, I let out a long, low groan as I feel myself release within her just as what feels like a lifetime of tension unwinds within her, our voices mingled in satisfaction as shots of my seed spill out into her, filling her up as I slide back and forth, massaging both of us down from our orgasms. My cock twitches, releasing more and more of myself into her, and she bites her lip as though my cock is red-hot within her, clenching herself tight as I grind inside her, drawing her close to me and putting my forehead to hers.

  “Fuck, Darios,” she whispers, nearly limp in my grasp.

  I chuckle, finally sliding myself out of her and picking her up, carrying her to my bed and laying her down, a pool of relieved woman and seed. “You keep surprising me, little girl,” I say, massaging my cock and feeling her honey still on me. She smiles, curling her head into her shoulder bashfully before I give her hand a squeeze. “Come on, let’s shower off. You should get acquainted with your new living quarters.”

  A few moments later, hot water is washing over both our bodies in my spacious shower, steam rising as the remains of my fight and our fucking get washed off my body.

  Delaney’s eyes are all over me, even more than mine are on her. Even after so many orgasms, I can see the arousal in her eyes as she looks at me. “Do I have a bullet hole in me,” I ask, “or is it true what they say about you lustful American girls?”

  She blushes and sticks her lip out at me, but there’s a smirk under it. “When things get hot and heavy,” she says, reaching out and stroking my half-mast cock gently, “I...get a little swept up in the action and don’t get to appreciate all this at once,” she says, gesturing to my whole, muscular body.

  I gently turn Delaney around, lathering a little soap and running my hands over her whole body, exploring every inch of her as I kiss her soaking-wet neck. “What, you don’t think that makes your captor all the more mysterious?” I tease, and she smiles, but even as she presses her ass into my cock, I can feel some hesitation in her.

  “God, this is so messed up,” she says, turning away a moment, “you really are my captor. It’s easy to forget in all this rush, but…” She brings her hand across one of my scars gently, thoughtfully. “Those scars. Those are from…”

  “From fights, Delaney,” I say into her ear, a low growl. “Fights where men died. Some where I defended my life, some where I defended my comrades, and some where I was out to kill someone for one reason or another. This is my business, Delaney.”

  She shivers, and I turn her around, pressing her against the cool glass wall of the shower, a hand on either side of her as I look at her, water running from my wet, dark hair down my stubble-ridden face as my dark eyes pierce hers. I smile.

  “I’m a killer, Delaney. I trade lives for pay, whether it’s in ransom or blood money. You saw me kill today, and you might see me kill again.” I lean forward and press my lips to hers, listening to her breath drawing in sharply. When I break the kiss, whisper into her ear, “And I don’t plan to change that any time soon.”

  15

  Delaney

  I turn over in bed and blink at the hulking mass of muscles lying beside me, my eyes drinking in every hard line and sharp curve with a sense of awe and disbelief. I still can’t quite wrap my mind around what I’ve gotten myself into. My body aches in a dull, satisfying kind of way after being so forcefully manhandled by Darios. I can still feel the hard imprints of his hands on my skin, like he’s tattooed me with his touch. Branded me forever more.

  He’s lying on his back with his chest calmly rising and falling ever so slightly, his dark eyes closed and a peaceful, unreadable expression on his handsome face. I have the strangest nervousness twisting in my gut, as though I’ve suddenly found myself lying naked in a cage next to a sleeping lion. At any moment, the predator could open up his fierce golden eyes and devour me in one unapologetic gulp.

  But despite the residual — and healthy — fear I feel when I think about him, I can’t deny that my survival instincts are quickly being overthrown by my desire for closeness. And not just with anyone; with Darios in particular. Because if I were truly desperate, it would make much more sense for me to pine after Brandon or literally anyone else from back home. Boys who are simple and harmless. Men who don’t frighten me. I should long for some tall, foolish all-American footballer who just wants to hold my hand and ask me to prom. If I were smart, perhaps I would feel a small iota of longing for the kind of guy who doesn’t scare me, but might just bore me to tears.

  Instead, I am curled up next to a man who has committed terrible crimes. Darios is a kidnapper, a con man… a murderer. He should terrify me to my core and send me running in the opposite direction, but here I am. I bite my lip, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, to test if he’s really real or not. Sometimes in these quiet moments, I could almost imagine that this is all a big fever dream. A nightmare mashed up with the steamiest sex dream I’ve ever had. But the authentic ache in my muscles and the taste of him on my tongue reminds me that this is real. This is happening.

  What would my parents think of me now? I can just picture my mom’s jaw dropping and her big blue eyes going wide with shock. She might even put down her beloved cell phone for once in her life and pay attention to me, even if it was just to scream at me in disgust. And my dad… god, he would fall to pieces if he saw me shacking up in some rundown Spanish villa with a Georgian serial murderer and his crew of likeminded bandits. Hell, he would lose his mind just at the prospect of his precious, virginal little girl in bed with any man, much less someone like Darios.

  But a lot has changed since I hopped on that plane to Barcelona wit
h my friends. I’m no longer the same apathetic, superficial pseudo-southern belle I was then. Without access to my phone, my money, my social media accounts, all the tenets that supported my reign of power as an alpha popular girl in high school, I have had to come to terms with who I really am underneath all of that.

  I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about the girl behind the mask. And I’m not one hundred percent sure the mask is totally off just yet. I may be walking a new walk and talking a new talk but deep down, I still feel like I’m hiding myself. I suppose that’s only natural, considering the fact that anyone should keep their guard up in such a sticky situation. I mean, I am literally surrounded by murderous men in the middle of a foreign country. I’m pretty much lying in a pit of snakes right now, and if I make one wrong move, I will undoubtedly get bitten. But Darios has certainly done his part to make me feel just a little bit safer. Having him on my side is one way to keep the other guys off my back. After what happened to the guard who tried to assault me, every other guy seems to give me a fairly wide berth. None of them want to meet the same dark fate.

  I shiver to myself, closing my eyes to block out the memory of the guard falling through the open window, the sick crunch of his massive body hitting the ground below. It’s still difficult to come to terms with the fact that Darios, the man whose arms encircle me and ravish me, is also a cold-blooded killer.

  But then, I suppose, at least I can comfort myself with the fact that he killed for me.

  Darios is resting so calmly that I can almost kid myself into ignoring his darker side. When he’s asleep beside me he could almost be just any regular handsome man, exhausted after hours of passionate lovemaking. But the battle scars marking the length of his body help to shatter this illusion. He didn’t get these scars from playing football or roughhousing with the boys. His body is a road map of every dark destination he’s visited, every drop of blood he’s spilled, every life he has brutally, expertly extinguished.