“Fuck me hard, Mateo, I want you to break me.”
“Good girl.” He let go of my throat and forced me to turn my head, sealing his mouth over mine in a hungry kiss, biting my lower lip and working his fingers harder.
He slipped one hand beneath us and undid his belt, working to free his cock. I reached down between us and gripped the base, angling myself above him, spreading my legs wider and slowly sinking down, still facing the opposite direction.
“No, not like this.” He stood lifting me off him and roughly turning me around. His eyes were dark with intensity. He cupped the back of my head and used the other hand to pull me into his body.
His lips met mine. The kiss was bruising and frenzied. He edged me back and lifted me up onto his desk, knocking a stack of papers on the floor.
He removed his shirt before spreading my legs wider and climbing between them. He held his cock at my entrance and pushed in all the way to the hilt. I gasped, grabbing thick handfuls of his hair.
I looked between us, my arousal building at the sight his dick driving in and out of me, his muscles tensing with every thrust. He made me feel so full.
Digging my nails into his back, he started fucking me harder, causing the desk to start inching out of place. I was coming in record time, crying out his name and raking my fingers down his spine.
He followed after me––stiffening with a groan as he violently came inside me. Careful not to crush me completely, he leaned down trailing kisses from my forehead to my jaw-line and back to my lips.
There was a rare gentleness in his wild tiger eyes he looked down at me. He smoothed strands of hair away from my forehead.
“I have an idea,” he said after a moment.
“Hm?” was all I could manage, still trying to come down from my orgasmic bliss.
“I’m going to make a few phone calls, and then you and I are going out. But first I’m going to fuck you in every room of this house.”
“But your house is huge.”
“Then it’s a challenge.” He kissed my cheek and stood, taking me with him in his arms.
He was going to ruin me––I could feel it.
Chapter Twelve
“So you have nothing?”
A swallow filled the silence.
I steeped my fingers beneath my chin and looked up at the smooth metal ceiling. My back was cushioned by a solid metal chair.
The only thing separating the man from me was the wooden table between us. I had rooms in the stables designed specifically with the intent to kill, maim, and torture whoever needed to be dealt with.
The man before me had been given the pleasure of seeing one. He’d pissed himself while I was at dinner the night before. The smell of dry ammonia was grating on nerves I was vastly losing. His hair was a greasy mess. His blue eyes bloodshot. He looked like he’d gone through hell, and I hadn’t even done anything yet.
“But you said you were the best. You said you could track down what I wanted.” I repeated everything he’d told me our first meeting in a mocking tone.
“And he tacked on ten percent,” Elias added from his post against the wall.
“He’s also a week late,” Sergio said, standing just over my shoulder. He was one of the very rare individuals I trusted to be behind me.
“I need a little more time,” his brittle voice rasped. He flinched when a scream sounded from somewhere else in the building.
“More time.” I stood and made my way to where we kept all the essentials one would need to make someone speak.
I was more into torture of the mind, making someone slowly insane over a period of time. But sometimes I got my hands dirty, too. I grabbed a meat cleaver and industrial butane lighter.
“I gave you access to my city.” I sat the lighter down on the table. “I gave you all the resources you needed, your ten percent, and free reign to do whatever you needed to get the job done. Why do I have nothing from you but a grievance for more time?” I sat the meat cleaver down. He opened his mouth to speak. I held up a hand to silence him.
“Your wife, your brother, and your sister-in-law were removed from their homes last night and are on their way here. Let me refresh your memory. You’re looking for Brock Miles. He has a black leather book that was given to him by a whore.
