Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Huh. Well, that’s weird. Anything odd about him?”
Cain frowns, scrolling down the document he’s saved with names and dates and details. “I don’t know… there is, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Are there any other details?”
He shakes his head. “I think we need to pay the minister a visit.”
Oh, dear.
“He’s got to be ancient by now, doesn’t he?”
“Suppose. Doesn’t matter.”
“Cain, you can’t go in and threaten an old guy with torture or death.”
He straightens. “Why not?”
“You just… can’t. It isn’t right.”
He spins me around to face him, gets this wicked gleam in his eyes, then bends and licks one of my breasts. My nipple peaks, and he gathers it into his mouth to suckle before he releases it. I stifle a moan. “According to whom?”
“Oh no you don’t,” I say, but I’m already panting when he leans me over the desk. My head nestles against the padded top. I thrust my fingers in his hair as he makes his way down my front. I’m still straddling him, so my legs are on either side of his torso, my body laid out like an offering to him.
He licks my nipples and weighs my breasts in each hand, fingering one hardened bud while he laps the other, until my body’s slick with arousal and need.
“Come upstairs with me, baby,” he whispers against my ear. “I’ll tell you everything else I know, but I want to be in you when I do.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I throw on my discarded clothing but leave the bra off. He scouts the halls, and in less than a minute, we’re back in his room.
“Grab the fucking headboard,” he orders, in that tone that means he wants in me, and he wants in me now. He follows up on his orders with a solid whack to the ass.
“Ah, so we’re in that sort of mood,” I say, as I grasp the sturdy headboard. I gasp when his palm slaps against my ass again, hard. Who am I kidding? Playful Cain is the exception to the rule. Boss Cain’s the norm.
“Yeah, baby.”
I’m already undressed, losing my clothing the minute I stepped over the threshold, and he’s making quick work of undressing behind me. I hear the rustle of fabric, the swoosh of his belt, then he taps it against my thigh. “Behave yourself.”
I make a choked sort of sound and get on my knees. My fingers grasp the headboard, my legs splayed for him. I hear the sound of a match being struck, then the scent of warmed cinnamon. His favorite candle, one bought expressly for the purpose of torturing me.
I love it.
“The rules of an assassin,” Cain begins, when he kneels behind me. “Repeat them after me so I know you’re being a good girl that listens well. If you’re going to get the revenge you need, you’ll learn these rules.”
My heartbeat spikes.
I nod. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
He loves it when I submit to him. This is the only time he gets it. Cain has a rules kink—when he gives me rules to repeat, he loves to dominate me. My first taste of this particular kink was on the target range when he punished me for shooting a gun without permission. He’s done it several times since, so it doesn’t take me by surprise now.
“Assassins have plans to succeed, Violet. They never take on a job they think they can’t handle, for failing at their job has dire consequences. They take on what they can do, and don’t commit to anything they can’t.”
I nod. “Got it. Assassins plan to succeed.”
I gasp when he snaps a towel out on the bed for me to kneel on. He has plans for me tonight. Dirty, naughty plans, and I’m here for it.
When the towel’s secured to catch anything messy, warmed oil licks down my back. The cinnamon candle. Heated through, it melts into a massage oil that can be used anywhere on the body, and I do mean anywhere. I close my eyes at the glow the heat creates across my skin, then moan when I feel him rub it into me.
“Assassins get paid up front. No credit. No payment plans. Cold, hard cash.”
The oil seeps into my skin, and I’m enveloped in the scent of warmed spice. My grip loosens on the headboard from my palms slick with sweat. His palm cracks across my ass.
“Hold onto that headboard like I told you.”
I quickly obey and repeat the rule. “Assassins get paid up front.”
“Good girl. Next rule, and this one is vital. Are you paying attention?”
“Mhm,” I say absentmindedly, just to get him riled up.
“Violet.” He tweaks my nipples.
I gasp. “I’m listening!”
When he’s satisfied he has my attention, he continues, speaking deliberately so his words hold weight. “Assassins kill with their heads, not their hands.”