roam closer to her ear, my tongue stroking the lobe gently.
“And what if I said it was someone close to me? What if I told you I plan on killin’ the motherfucker who killed me?” She moans. She fucking moans as she shifts her hips making my cock harder.
“You don’t feel dead,” she says softly, pressing into me harder.
“Oh, I died, darlin’. Right there on that dirty fuckin’ floor. I was dead.”
“Then I’d say I want in.” Turning her head, she presses her lips to mine, a hot heated kiss. I drive my tongue into her mouth, sucking and licking. Fuck, she tastes as good as I thought she would. Silla moves to straddle me, cupping my face with her hands as she grinds against me. I grab her hips, holding her in place as I thrust up, meeting her strokes with my own. It doesn’t matter that we’re both fully fucking covered in clothes.
Chapter Seven
“Shit,” she hisses, pulling away from me quickly.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just a weird pain in my side,” she says, moving her hand to the area. I move mine, too, lifting her shirt so I can get a better look.
“You takin’ the antibiotics? That looks pretty red,” I tell her.
“I stopped taking them. They make me feel sick.”
“Start takin’ them. That shit’s gettin’ infected. You’re gonna end up right back in the hospital if you don’t.” She nods her head as I let my fingers skim over her flesh. I watch the way she shivers just from my touch and I like it. More than that? I like her.
“Tell me about you,” I say as my fingers keep moving. She looks me in the eye now, unsure if she should open up to me or not. I lift my own shirt and show her the scars from my own gunshots when she notices my tattoo.
“Royal Devils,” she reads softly, her nail slowly tracing over the letters.
“I’m the bad guy.” She smirks.
“I’m the bad girl. I’m only giving you this because you kept me safe although I have no idea why you’d do that. My name is Silla Prescott. Before I was jumped, I was being trained to do things. Things most women would find disgusting. My entire outlook on family has been screwed up since I was a kid. My mom is gone. Don’t ask me where because I don’t know and my dad, well if you know the name Prescott then you already know who he is.” My head cocks to the side as I think about that name. Then it hits me. She smirks seeing the realization as it slams into me.
“Jordan Prescott.” I say his name. She nods her head before climbing off my lap and moving to the bed. She drops onto the edge and looks over at me, her hands tucked under her thighs.
“You know him, clearly.”
“Don’t know him. I’ve heard of him. Stays mostly up this way, yeah?” She nods her head.
“Yeah. He’s based in Wisconsin, but he has people all over the states.”
“And you play into all this how?” She smiles but doesn’t want to give me that part. Too fucking bad. Now that I know she has her memory back, I can kick her ass to the curb and move on with my plans, which is exactly what I’m going to do. Shoving out of my chair, I grab my bag and start packing. Silla doesn’t make a move to get up and that intrigues me as well.
“I am supposed to be a hitman. Or woman that is,” she says with a giggle. I turn to look at her over my shoulder and shake my head. Her? Yeah, I don’t see that shit. I go back to packing. “You don’t believe me?”
“Not even a little. Look at you. You can’t be more than what? One twenty if that? You are five-foot nothin’ and you can’t fight off a man my size.”
“Hence the reason I was perfect for the job. I don’t need to fight, only shoot and that I can do,” she adds. When I have most of my stuff packed into the bag, I turn to face her, resting my hands on my hips.
“Then what are you doin’ here? Why didn’t you run back to Daddy?” That’s it. I see the way her face fell before she tried to pull her mask back into place. It has something to do with him.
“I couldn’t… I didn’t kill someone I was supposed to.”
“Real good hitman,” I grumble before moving to grab