The Hitman's Dancer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Snake Eyes Book 2) (5 page)

Dante moves without hesitation, forcing my legs back up onto his shoulders. I focus on the pleasure inside of me as his huge cock pushes against my aching crevice. He takes it in hand and touches the firm tip to my clit, firing shock waves throughout my body with each quick rub.

He reaches down to slide his thumb into my mouth again. I bite down hard to see the pain in his eyes. Instead, he smiles at me with amusement, almost as if he’s incapable of feeling pain at all.

“Lucy…” he says with laughter on his breath. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He pulls his thumb away and slides the moisture down my chin, leaving a long trail downward between my breasts and along my belly.

I writhe beneath him, sparks igniting along my skin as he touches me. His thumb finally settles on my mound, reaching deep between my thighs to lie against my vibrating clit. I moan softly, feeling everything he does. Every purposeful flick of his thumb brings me closer to letting go. He pushes down, sliding slowly between my wet folds and sets his thumb against my dripping entrance. My back arches off the bed and I bite my tongue to keep from begging him to go inside.

Dante keeps his eyes trained on me, testing my reaction as he slides his thumb in less than an inch. I sigh, longing for even more of his thick digit, but he refuses to give it to me. He just massages my inner walls with his tip with his eyes on me, smiling at the pleasure overwhelming my body.

“You’re tight, Lucy,” he says, his voice dripping with desire.
“Relax.”

I nod, unable to say a word.

Dante pulls his hand away and brings his thumb to his mouth. He tastes me on his skin, sucking his own thumb clean of my moisture. A chill climbs down my spine as a deep chuckle fills the back of his throat. “My god, Lucy…” he growls. “You taste like…” He licks his lips.

Curiosity takes me over. “What?” I moan.

He lowers himself down to me and runs his lips against my neck before landing a firm kiss on my mouth. “You taste like
a good kill
,” he says.

I quiver with fear, suddenly remembering who this man is between my legs. My wrists tremble against my restraints, knowing that there’s no way out of them without submitting to him completely.

“I wonder…” he continues, studying my frightened eyes, “if you
feel
like one, too.”

Dante rises again, this time grabbing his huge cock and sliding it downward to meet my slit. I grip the headboard, preparing for his urgent thrust, but he moves slowly, almost with a degree of hesitation. His tip pushes inside and he closes his eyes to feel it.

Pleasure rocks me instantly and I moan for more of him, but he keeps himself still. He exhales, the heavy breath jarring off his lips as he struggles to control himself.

“Mr. Hart…” I sigh, willing for his eyes to open.

They stay closed as his hands fall to my waist. He pulls me in closer, burrowing his shaft even deeper inside of me. I moan louder, feeling every inch of it stretch me all the more. My hips jolt, begging for his thrust, but he digs his fingers into my skin to hold me down.

I whimper through my lips. “More…”

The ends of his mouth twitch as I squeeze him from the inside but he still refuses to give me what I want.

“Mr. Hart…”

Dante’s eyes open slowly and I see it staring back at me. Those eyes; far different than they were before. That playful, boyish charm is gone, leaving behind the black, soulless eyes of only one thing.

A killer.

“Dante.”

He lowers himself to me and lays a hand against my chin, drawing my mouth towards his. “Say it again.”

I shake in his hands. “Dante—”

His lips crash into mine, drawing another hard kiss from me.
“Lucy…”
he groans, moving a hand along the bedspread towards his bedside table. He reaches over and grabs something from the drawer. I can’t make it out in the darkness until I hear the sound of it flicking open.

I jolt in fear, catching sight of the knife glimmering next to his lifeless eyes.

“Shh…” he warns, finding my lips again to give me a soothing kiss to silence me. I keep my eyes open, watching his hand move above my head and up my arms. He slides the blade between my wrist and his tie and slices it apart with one quick flick.

My hands fall to my sides and Dante tosses the knife away before kissing me again. He juts his hips forward, rocking us both with a hard thrust.

I moan between his lips, holding his body even closer to mine as sweat gathers along his rough skin. My fingers drag across his body, feeling the bumps and tears of scars along his back and abs.
“Oh, god—”

He pumps me again, this time giving in to his own desires. He doesn’t stop. He holds me down against his bed and pistons in and out of me, breathing fast as his lips never leave my own.

Warmth bleeds from every muscle. I let it overwhelm me, riding the wave higher and higher until I can’t anymore. “Dante…”

He guides my arms above my head and entwines our fingers together. Without saying a word, he lays his head on my shoulder and rests it there while he continues the hard grind inside of me, drawing me even closer to the edge.

“Dante—!”

The climax strikes me down. My entire body quakes, feeling the rush of pleasure radiating throughout my limbs. Everything explodes, from my head all the way down to my toes, far more intense than I’ve ever experienced in my life.

He raises his head and smiles, his hips still bucking wildly. “Lucy…” he whispers my name, his voice smooth as butter. I look into his eyes to find the stunning waves of blue looking back at me. The killer is gone. Either that or the killer has taken over me.

I push up to kiss him and he takes my face in his rough hands, holding me tight as if I could float away at any second. My knees hug his waist and I wrap my arms around him while guiding him onto his back. His thickness slides out of me as we move but I quickly maneuver him back where he belongs.

Dante lies down and watches as I take control. His eyes grow wider as I ride him, dancing on his cock like a well-practiced routine. I bob and move my hips, drawing his hands up my body to cup my breasts. His massive hands cover them completely and my nipples swell even more against his calloused palms. I grunt from the back of my throat, digging my nails into his chest as hard as I can. Still, he doesn’t even wince at the pain it brings him.

He leans his head back and groans softly at the ceiling while his hips buck to meet my bounce, pushing against my inner walls until they crumble.

“Oh, fuck — Dante!” I moan for him and he holds me together while I start to unravel on his big, thick rod.

He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down as he presses his thumb against my clit again. “Come for me, Lucy…” he whispers on his breath. He wags his knuckle, flicking quickly against my throbbing bud, drawing another scream from the back of my throat, and he doesn’t stop until I’m moaning his name so loud I think my ears will bleed.

“Dante!”

I come on him again, forfeiting everything for him. The moisture inside becomes a deluge, raining down on his cock while he takes me with another round of upward thrusts before sliding out of me and resting the tip against my taut navel. He marks me with a quick, sudden stream of cum, shooting thick and wet across my skin. I lower myself down and take him into my mouth to appease my salivating tongue.

Dante snatches my hair in his fingers and grips me tight as I suck him dry. His warm desire sprays the back of my throat, teasing my taste buds until I’ve had my fill of him and he goes flaccid between my teeth. He pulls me towards him and I taste both of us on our tongues as we bring our lips together again.

I fall to his bed, submitting to the numbness in my thighs. Sweat bleeds off my brow. My abs burn. Everything feels so alive inside but I can’t bring myself to move. I sense him beside me, breathing heavily into the air, his thick chest rising and falling as much as mine.

Finally, he sits up and spreads my knees again.

“Dante—”

“I have to taste you...” He licks his lips, his eyes flicking up at me like a hungry animal standing above his bloody prey.

I fall silent and bite my cheek to keep from screaming as his tongue splits my nether lips and plunges inside. A moan escapes me, drawn out by the smooth fucking of his tongue in my core.

“My god…”
he moans, his voice breathy and wild. His eyes close and he rests his head against my breasts, licking his lips clean of my flavor.

I lie still beneath his heavy weight, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breath until my eyelids finally submit to sleep.

Chapter 5

Dante

She’ll be gone by the time I get back.

I step outside with my briefcase in hand. It’s still dark; the sun has about an hour before it rises again. I’m not much of a sleeper or else I’d stay in bed with her. Then again, Zappia’s waiting on my kill confirmation and he isn’t a man you want to keep waiting for very long.

I head for the docks. It’s a quick drive. The city isn’t quite awake just yet and the roads are clear of commuters and school buses; the usual morning annoyances.

Zappia’s casino sits near the docks just west of Montrose Beach. Not exactly the place you’d expect a mafia family to do business but I guess that’s the whole point. A little research points out that this entire area was used to smuggle alcohol during the Prohibition Era, a trade the early Zappia men were particularly famous for throughout Chicago.

“You’re late, Hart.” Martino Zappia greets me as I step inside with a cigarette butt between his lips and a deck of cards shuffled in his hands. His youthful face smirks at me as he leans against the metal stairwell leading up to his father’s office. I grit my teeth and throw on a smile. Marty’s the youngest of the family and as such, the hardest-working man in the business when it comes to earning daddy’s approval.

Behind him shines the Zappio casino but the Las Vegas Bellagio it ain’t. It’s one floor with about a dozen or so tables scattered around. The air is full of controlled, chaotic sounds like chips clacking, cards shuffling, and dials spinning as the dealers speak softly to the players. It smells like cigar smoke, cheap whiskey, and a hint of chocolate — but I haven’t the slightest idea why.

A large man stands stationed by the door and he steps forward, blocking me from going any further inside.

“I got caught up,” I say, my eyes flicking between Marty and the brute. “What’s this about?”

“Caught up? At the ballet school?” Marty asks, raising his brow. “Tell me about her.”

“You wish, kid.” I hold up my briefcase. “I’ve got a surprise for your old man.”

“Hold on…” He slides his cards into his breast pocket and pushes off the wall, flicking his dead cigarette butt towards the trash in the corner. It doesn’t make it close and lands on the floor several feet away. My nose recoils as I sense his god-awful, repugnant aftershave from six feet away. “You gotta get checked out first.”

I glance at the new security again. “What for?”

Marty smirks. “Just a precaution. Word on the street says the Lutrova brothers are back in Chicago.”

I shrug. “Kid, you know me. I don’t work for Russians.”

“My father said no one enters the casino without getting searched first.”

I fight the urge to rip the fucking lips off his annoying, boy-bandish face. He reaches out for the briefcase and I hand it off to him before raising my arms and letting the security drone do his thing. He waves a magnetic wand along my legs and hips and easily finds the Glock stashed behind me in my belt.

Once again, I shrug. “I’ve never walked in here unarmed…”

“You can have it back when you leave,” Marty says, signaling for the big guy to stash my gun away for me. He lays the briefcase flat in one hand and pops open the buckles to peek inside. “Looks a bit small to hold a man’s head, Hart.”

“Terrance Vaughn paid his debt.”

His eyes scan the stacks of money and he closes the case again. “Check him for a wire.”

“A wire?”
I repeat, scoffing. “Come on, kid…”

“The last time the Lutrovas popped in, we had to pay off a few undercover cops,” he argues, his voice bouncing with delight. He’s so fucking tickled right now, just relishing in the chance to mess with me and get away with it.

“I’m not a damn cop.”

The mound of steroids reaches for my shirt and I snatch his wrist in the air, drawing a thick cackle from Marty’s throat.

“Either you submit to this security check or we find someone who will…”

The threat is very unwise — but so is noncompliance. Casting a spotlight on me in any way isn’t a smart move on my part. If I want them to think I have nothing to hide, then I have to act like it.

I grab the bottom of my shirt myself and raise it to show my entire bare torso. “See? No wire.”

“Nice ink,” Marty notes, staring at the cobra etched onto my skin. “Old gang?”

“Something like that,” I mutter, dropping the shirt back down.