Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,72
I turn my back on him and retrieve shower gel from the stand. Handing it back over my shoulder, I can’t stop the smile.
“Wash me.” My heart beats wildly as the bottle leaves my hands. I wait as he opens the bottle. The gel is cold, but his large hands move across my back, and I close my eyes while rising on the tip of my toes at the sensation.
“You’re hard to keep satisfied, love.”
I want to dip my head into my shoulder as his breath brushes my neck. I open my eyes, loving how he says, love.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of you.” I turn and face him. Heat scorches my face, but it doesn’t stop me from being open. “I don’t think anyone could.”
His dark gaze swirls, and he looks angry or like someone who’s ready to bolt. I bend down and pick up the shower gel. My nipples are hard as I pass his cock, but I squirt the gel on my hands before dropping the bottle and start to wash Shay. He moans slightly, and his jaw relaxes, and it’s everything.
“You said you never had sex in your bed before?”
His eyes open.
“Is that true?”
He nods as I continue to wash his chest, moving further down. “Yes.”
One word has me smiling, and I take his large cock in my hand. “Why now?” I stroke, and he groans, throwing his head back.
“You will be my wife.” His answer is breathy, and as I stroke him, I let my fingers trail down in between my legs. I touch myself and moan.
I continue to stroke him and touch myself at the same time. This time it doesn’t take much for me to cum. I move faster and stop stroking Shay. His hand takes over, and I focus on myself as I cum again.
Leaning against his hard chest, the beat of his heart has me looking up at him. He’s watching me, and his gaze gives me a power I never knew I had.
The swell of his cock grows as he speeds up until his seed splashes across my thigh. How many times had we done it, four?
Between my legs throbs, but it’s a nice kind of throb. It’s a nice kind of pain. We finish washing and re-enter the bedroom.
“I need clothes,” I say, looking at the same top and jeans. I can re-wear the bra, but I wasn’t putting back on the same panties.
“We’ll go now and get you some things.” Shay pulls on a clean pair of jeans, and I envy him as I push my legs through my dark ones.
The black shirt he drags across his wide shoulders has me hunting for my bra; I want him again. How was that possible? To hide the burn of my face, I focus on putting on my bra and top.
“Emma.” I’m sitting on the bed, pulling on a pair of Shay’s socks when he sits beside me, fully dressed. His hair is still damp, and all I want to do is run my hands through it.
“When we get you some clothes, I need to visit someone.”
“Okay.” I know there is more.
“It’s someone I’m going to hurt.”
Now he has my full attention. “What did they do?” I don’t expect an answer.
“She paid a man to kill my brother.”
I’m stuck on the word she. He was going to hurt a woman. Should that make a difference? “You want me to fight her?” I ask, but I don’t think I can.
He doesn’t laugh. “I’m going to kill her.”
I try to allow his words to sink in, but they don’t. “You're telling me this because I’m going to witness it?” I’m not sure if I’m asking or summarizing what he’s saying.
“I can’t leave you behind. I just want you to know my intentions when I find Amanda.”
“Kill her, like torture her or shoot her or….” Did it matter? He was admitting that we were going clothes shopping and then taking a woman’s life called Amanda. The air grows thin.
Shay stands. “I haven’t figured that part out yet. But no matter what, she has to die.”
Bile claws its way up my throat, and I swallow it. I should stay here. I shouldn’t know these things. But being alone was scary as hell, too. Was someone else planning to come here and kill me? What if this woman, Amanda, was innocent? Even if she wasn't, did she deserve to die? My mind spins. “How do you know she paid someone?” I ask.