The hedonistic pleasure swirled in her core, spreading like volts of electrical waves through each nerve ending. The intimacy of his skin to hers, coupled with the delightful rhythm and husky sound of his excitement, sent her into oblivion. She panted his name, unravelling in his eyes.
Her insides spasmed around his cock as her orgasm detonated like a grenade. The feel of his body on top of her was fucking amazing.
He grunted and growled, then released with a shudder like the pleasure tore through every muscle in his body.
Admittedly, it wasn’t going to be easy. He was a renowned playboy who naturally flirted with woman. The man was charming and untouchable. Until now.
And now, she wanted Marcus McGrath all to herself.
31
Carl inhaled the excitement of his pending revenge.
“I’ll show every last fucker who messes with Carl Reed that I’m the one in control. I’m the big guy around here.” He spoke with an air of calmness as he lit up a cigar and drew the smoke into his mouth.
He gazed at his preened reflection with self-adoration pouring from his eyes. A wink preceded the release of thick white smoke that swirled past his lips. He puffed out his chest and pulled back his shoulders.
He pulled open his jacket and checked on the small black gun that sat snugly in his inside pocket. Patting his full pocket, he chuckled with a smug look on his face. Holding the cigar in his teeth, he hit dial.
The call was connected after three rings. “I’m ready, Kye. I’ll take the route as planned and meet you there. Don’t be late. I hate people who make me wait.”
He terminated the call and slipped the mobile phone into his trouser pocket.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a day or two for a victory party!”
He turned to face his new fascination. The little deli girl was writhing on the bedroom floor. Her limbs were tightened together with cable ties and her mouth stuffed full of a rolled-up sock.
He lifted his trousers at the knee and bent down to her side. She thrashed from side to side like a trapped animal in the jaws of its killer.
Carl stroked her hair tenderly. “I won’t be long. Don’t go anywhere.” A low cackle brought tears to her eyes.
Her pretty little face was crimson and the lenses of her glasses had become smudged. With the pad of his forefinger he pushed the frames back up the bridge of her nose.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. You should be happy that I picked you.” He smiled slyly.
Rising to a stand, he watched her pointless struggle. The black frames that shielded her watery eyes slid back down her nose and hung loosely.
As she whipped her head back and forth they slipped off and fell to the floor.
In one step, he stomped on the flimsy plastic, crunching the glass beneath his shiny shoe. “You don’t need those ugly things. How about I give you something to take the edge off?”
He didn’t get the same exhilarating thrill that he felt when Lana was paralysed beneath him. This little blonde didn’t have the same look in her motionless gaze.
Horror spilled from her watery eyes, whereas the lovely Lana had grit. Carl hummed in the back of his throat, considering all the things he would do to Lana when he found her again.
Carl jumped into his silver Jaguar, switched on the neon lights and reversed without checking if the road was clear. Hitting the main road, the car blazed along the empty lanes towards the International airport.
His eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. His brows were neatly trimmed, and his eyes had darkened with a perilous glint. The roads were eerily quiet for a Sunday evening, allowing him to gather more speed.
He knew exactly where he needed to be—Italy.
32
Her cheeks were flushed and her body ached with satisfaction.
Melting into his naked torso, she trailed her fingertips over every curve of every muscle on his stomach. “What did you want to talk about?" She finally asked as her heart beat steadied.
Marcus lifted her chin with his knuckles. His eyes were unreadable, emotions hidden behind a swirl of dark green.
