Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,25

lucky ones. Your wife won't be touched.”

He attempts to fight me, but I squeeze his neck tighter and bring the gun to his face.

“Now be a good boy and open your mouth.”

He didn't.

I hold the gun against his temple and tilt my head to the side. “And you know what I said about your wife?”

He sneers, a missing tooth at the front more prevalent now. It's missing because of me, so I laugh.

“She's safe. Tonight.” I laugh harder.

He tries to move.

I pull the trigger.

The shot echoes through the alley. I let him go and step back as his body slumps to the floor.

Useless. Worthless. Lifeless.

***

I flicked through the hotel TV channels aimlessly. If there was something of interest to me on the screen, I didn't fucking see it. I was staring at it, but my head may as well have been on another goddamn dimension.

My phone was lying next to me on the bed like a silent torture device. I'd been trying to call Enzio since I left Adriana's house last night, but he hadn't answered a single call. I'd finally gotten through to Isaia, the consigliere, and he told me he'd have Enzio call me.

I was still fucking waiting, and it'd been six hours.

I dropped my head back against the headboard and closed my eyes. The kiss with Adriana yesterday played in my mind on loop. The way she gasped when I slammed her against the wall was like a damn broken record, and the tiny moan she let out as she'd bitten my lip made my cock hard as I thought about it.

Shit, who the fuck was I kidding? My cock had been rock hard the second our lips had touched, and now, each time I thought about it, blood rushed to the fucking thing like I was a sixteen year old opening his first Playboy.

Even now when I was lying in bed, thinking about the taste of coffee and candy on her lips and her hands grabbing my shirt as she yielded to my kiss, my dick throbbed uncomfortably against my zipper.

I adjusted it. It was fucking wrong. I shouldn't have a goddamn hard on over her. I was supposed to kill her... Not kiss her and get a boner.

I rubbed my hand over my face. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that this erection would disappear by magic, but I wasn't prepared for the other option either. If I thought getting hard over her was wrong—and it was—jerking off over her was definitely wrong.

But, fuck. I could feel the tension rolling through my muscles, and as I shifted uncomfortably, I wanted to undo my zipper, pull out my cock, and get myself off until this inappropriate burst of desire disappeared.

I got up and yanked my shirt over my head. It fell to the floor in a heap, and I left my phone on the bed as I made my way into the bathroom. Fuck it.

I wasn't getting her out of my head. I wasn't getting rid of this hard on with fucking fairy dust. It wasn't like she ever wanted to see me again, was it? She was clear enough on that yesterday. So fuck everything.

I turned on the shower and unbuttoned my jeans, then shoved them down with my boxers. My cock sprung free right as the shower cubicle steamed up from the hot water. I stepped out of my clothes and got into the shower. The hot water beat down on me, and I welcomed the rush of heat through my body.

The soap almost slipped out of my hands as I grabbed it, but I managed to hold onto it long enough to get it on the sponge. It lathered into a foam as I rubbed the sponge across my body, covering my body in a layer of soapy suds.

My cock still throbbed.

I dropped the sponge and reached down. I shut my eyes as my hand wrapped around my hard cock, like not seeing it would make this fucking okay. Nothing would make what I was about to do okay, but fuck, I had nothing left to lose.

I kept telling myself that, like it mattered.

The soap acted as a lube as I worked my hand up and down my cock. Adriana sprung to mind immediately, and although I tried to fight the thoughts, I couldn't. I couldn't fucking get rid of the memory of her standing in front of me in skin tight pants and a tank. I couldn't get rid of the memory