Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Nero

Pulling back the curtain an inch, l look out over the parking lot of the shitty motel. The likelihood of anyone coming for us here is slim, but I’m still edgy.

Una has a pistol in pieces on the bed, cleaning it. She’s been doing it for the last hour, her brows pulled together and her eyes lost and distant. I know it’s Arnaldo who’s put a hit on her, just as I suspected he would. But when I put this entire plan into motion, I never for a second thought that I would want her so badly. To own Una body and soul. I want to stand beside her and make our enemies bleed. She’s no longer a tool; she’s the perfect ally, the perfect complement to everything I am. How do you let that go when you know you’ll never find it again? Una is my own personal obsession, my weakness and my strength. Together, we’re unstoppable.

Crossing the room, I remove the gun barrel she’s been cleaning for the last ten minutes from her hand. I place a finger under her chin and force her to look at me. There’s a smudge of gun oil on her cheek, smeared over the porcelain skin. Wide indigo eyes meet mine.

“You only clean your guns before you’re about to kill someone. Should I be worried?”

She huffs and falls back against the pillows. “It clears my mind.” She’s wearing one of my shirts again and it pulls up, showing just a flash of her underwear. The sight of her long, bare legs is enough to make my dick hard. Her eyes shift to the dressing at my shoulder. “Come here, let me look at that.”

I move closer to the bed and she crawls to me, getting to her knees so she can peel the dressing away. Her fingers are gentle but firm against my skin. The wound still hurts, because that’s what happens when someone shoots you and then sets you on fire. I’ve stopped taking the painkillers because they cloud my mind, and I need complete clarity. “This looks good,” she says under her breath.

“No thanks to you.”

“It would be much worse if I hadn’t used the gun powder.”

“It would be much better if you hadn’t shot me.”

“You know, you’re really hung up on that.” Her lips quirk into a smile, and I grip the back of her neck, pulling her close. Those indigo eyes drop to my mouth, her lips parting.

“I figure you owe me.”

When I kiss her, she tastes of blood and death and everything I want. My free hand slips up her body and beneath her shirt until I’m brushing her breast. Shoving her back on the bed, I crawl between her thighs. Her chest rises and falls erratically, fingers threading through my hair as I kiss over her hip bone and shove the shirt further and further up her body. She’s fucking beautiful; toned curves and pale skin, littered with scars, some faded to silver while others are still a rich purple. Her body is a portrait of a hard and violent life, and each and every scar only makes me harder for her.

She yanks at my belt until it comes undone, and then grabs my throat, digging her fingers in on either side of my Adam’s apple. When I pull away, she shoves me to my back on the mattress. Then lands on top of me.

“You just love to fucking push me,” I growl, grabbing her around the throat. We always end up right here because it’s where we belong.

“You know I like you angry.” I tighten my grip and a brilliant smile crosses her face. She looks so perfect; innocence and seduction all wrapped up with a fucked up little bow on the top as if she were made for me. When I palm her breast, her body bows, sending white-blonde hair cascading down her back. Those full lips part on a soft moan, and I press my thumb inside her mouth. The little noises she makes and the stroke of her warm tongue nearly make me explode. Sitting up, I bring us face-to-face, wrapping my arms around her until every naked inch of her is pressed against me. To the rest of the world, she’s the whisper of death on the wind, feared and revered. And yet here she is, so beautifully vulnerable and trusting in my arms. She feels like all the parts of me I didn’t even know were missing, the parts I didn’t even want.

The lace of her underwear drags over my cock as she rolls her hips in a move nothing short of pure torture. I have no patience when it comes to her, so I grab the crotch of her panties and tear them away. Her fingers dive into my hair, yanking, demanding. I grip her hips, equally as demanding as I force her down on my waiting cock. The trembling of her body is so beautiful. Her pussy feels like the closest I’ll ever get to heaven. She touches her forehead to mine and I close my eyes, feeling her rapid breaths blow over my face. We stay like that for a second, her clinging to my shoulders while I imprison her against me. Her hips begin to roll lazily, and I bite back a groan. I’ve fucked Una a lot but every time feels more intense than the last. She’s like a slow burn scorching everything she touches, and fuck, if I don’t want her to incinerate me. I trail my hands up her back, feeling the ancient bumps and welts of long worn scars. And when she comes, it’s like art and music blended into one perfect masterpiece. I bite her bottom lip, swallowing her moans as her pussy clamps down on me. It’s enough to make me explode inside her and collapse back on the mattress.

I turn to face Una where she lays beside me, but her expression is distant, detached. Something’s wrong with her, and I’d say it’s the threat of death, but as she said herself, someone always wants her dead. It’s more than that. She gets up and goes into the shitty en suite. The door closes behind her and the lock clicks into place.