She has returned. I place my eye against the scope. Her bed is cleared of her bag and her back is resting against the headboard.
Her lithe body is clothed in a thin t-shirt. I can see the faint, dark outline of nipple beneath the cloth. My eyes dip lower. The shadow of her pubic hair is also visible. I can feel my heart rate pick up as I map her body with my eyes.
I feel restless and think perhaps I should review the information I have compiled for the mark or perhaps look at the routing pattern left by the caller from Neuchâtel. I do neither. As I begin to draw back from the scope, her motions arrest me. Her small hand, with the pink-tipped nails, is moving over her belly. One finger traces the tiny lace adorning the top band of her panties. My breath is suspended. Time is suspended.
I have never seen this before. She has never touched herself. Never brought a man home with her. I’d have shot him, maybe. No, I would’ve caused some disturbance. Something. I thought her maybe an innocent and fantasized about awakening her. But now her small fingers are delving beneath the cotton. I can see the bumps of her knuckles as they press against the pale, pink fabric. She is moving her fingers in circles.
I imagine my own fingers, much larger, dark and rough, pressing down upon hers. My fingers flex involuntarily at the thought of her pussy beneath my touch. I’d stroke her lightly and in circles as that is what she appears to like. I’d move my fingers lower, beyond her clit to her hot cunt. It would be wet, dripping wet. My fingers would be soaked, and I would pause so that I could lick her sweet honey off each digit.
My cock is so hard I fear that it will break against the denim of my jeans. I draw a hand over my chest and pinch my own nipple hard, imagining it is her tiny white teeth tugging on it. I’ve broken out in a light sweat.
Her legs tense, and her hand motions become more frantic. I can see her chest rise and fall rapidly. Her whole body is strained, but when her release comes it is truncated. The look on her face is one of frustration rather than satisfaction. She wets her plump lips and closes her eyes. She begins again, but again she is unfulfilled.
My emotions war against each other. I am unhappy that she cannot find her own fulfillment, but there is also fierce possessiveness that arises from an idea I’ve tried to suppress. In my mind, only I can bring her to orgasm and release. I can teach her to touch herself in a way that will be pleasurable and satisfying.
I would not start with her pussy. No, the skin is the largest sex organ. I would stroke my hands over every inch, starting from her forehead. My lips and fingers would smooth away any furrows. My hands would encircle her neck and sweep down over her shoulders to her fine wrists.
I’d rub my body over hers so that she smelled of me. When she walked this city, other men would stay away, recognizing she was marked as my own. Belonging to Nikolai. Maybe I would tattoo it around her neck like a collar.
I stroke the homemade tattoo over my chest. The words inscribed there still burn, years after they were applied. I scowl at myself. She would run in fear if she saw me—the stars on my knees, the dagger through my neck, the spider web on my shoulder. The epaulets on the other. The inscription. I am tempted to throw my scope at the wall. I would never be allowed to touch her pristine skin, not with my dirty fingers or my tongue. I would defile her.
I do not hurl my weapon. An assassin’s tools are his friends; perhaps the only things he owns. But I do leave my seat. She has gone into the kitchen anyway, to eat. We have one thing in common right now. We are both dissatisfied.
This book’s synopsis took me for a loop, it hardly gave anything away but it still drew me in and when I started the first few chapters in Daisy’s view I was a little skeptical and intrigued because Daisy had been living with her father who was agoraphobic and only allowed her out for groceries and what not an hour per week and she decided enough was enough and left. In doing so she became this bright-eyed bushy tail young innocent and sheltered a-whole-new-world person after she left home. Then incomes Nikolai a used to be hit man for the Russian Bratva which I had never heard of in my life. Thanks google. And I’m a sucker for all the Russian words thrown in like Da.
Nikolai has no love, no one to love and has never known affection of the need to have someone, his life was simple, with his for hire status he took jobs posted money and lived his life, until he spied Daisy through his scope in the building across the street from him. At first it was a little creepy because he was kinda the stalker next door
Then he became kind of endearing because he was like a baby calf trying to find his footing in the world. He has no idea how to date, how to interact with a women or how to be soft and gentle, especially to someone like Daisy who is all
They court and it’s like watching two sea turtles trying to find land because both of them are just awkward and odd, but they fit.
And the sexual chemistry is like whoa!
Thennnnn the poo hits the fan as the wrong person finds out about his ‘Little flower’ and man, apparently you don’t ever want to piss off someone who used to be a hit man for the Bratva, this was the first book in a series and the first book by that I have read by two authors and yup I’m a fan! Though Daisy kept doing things to kinda piss me off and at times I thought she was little too trusting, because let’s face it the normal reaction for someone who found out that they were being watched would have been
But nope, she trusted Nick, and in this case that was fine and she discovers so much more about herself as well as Nick as the story unfolded. This was a great start and I’m very excited about the next book in the series featuring the two supporting characters.
I will definitely be reading the rest in this series.
5 out of 5 stars!