Taming Seraphine

LEROI

Kissing Seraphine is like tasting the finest, most exquisite wine. She’s delicate and sweet, yet there’s an edge of something dark to her that resonates with my twisted soul. She’s intoxicating.

Fucking Seraphine, being enveloped in her tight heat, and eliciting those sweet whimpers is like coming home. She’s a perfect balance of decadence and innocence that I’ve never seen in another, let alone in a woman so beautiful.

I’m powerless to resist her.

Pulling back, I gaze into her eyes, and they sparkle with an emotion that mirrors mine. It’s as if she’s truly seeing me and accepting the monster, and I’m the only person in the world that matters.

Her cheeks are flushed and still smeared with another man’s blood. Strands of damp hair frame her face, clinging to her forehead and neck, she’s more beautiful than ever before.

My heart swells with a heady mix of tenderness and protectiveness. I can’t remember feeling so close to anyone since before my family’s rejection. Seraphine would never recoil if I killed to protect her; she would worship me like a god. It only proves that she’s my perfect match, created only for me.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

She smiles, her expression blissful. “Never better.”

Placing another kiss on her swollen lips, I moan, “You belong to me. Body, mind, and blood.”

“Forever?” she whispers.

Forever has never sounded so sweet. “That’s right.”

Tightening my grip around her legs, I step back from the wall and walk across the room. We pass Rochas, whose corpse sits slumped in the chair, his lower half drenched in blood, forming a thick pool on the concrete.

The corner of my lips lifts into a smirk. He’s a mutilated reminder of what happens when someone crosses what’s mine.

I pick up the bag of clean clothes I left on the counter and turn on the sprinkler.

“What’s that for?” she asks, her voice light.

“To clean up this mess. Dried blood is a bitch to get out of the floors.”

She giggles. “You care more about the state of the floors than you did about your dead poker friends.”

I open the security door, step out into the hallway, and pause for the automatic lights. As they flicker on, I meet her huge, blue eyes. “That morning, when I woke up, seeing them all dead, the first thing I thought about was you.”

Her lips part with a gasp. “What do you mean?”

“I thought someone had broken in to steal you back. The thought of you being taken… It made me murderous.”

She pauses for several heartbeats before raising trembling fingers to the side of my face. “You cared for me even back then?”

“From the moment I saw you in the dark,” I say, my voice choked.

Seraphine cranes her neck to reach my lips, and I meet her halfway in a kiss that feels like salvation and hope. I thought fucking her hard and fast against the wall might break her, but it’s only brought us closer.

We’re kindred spirits, bonded by blood. I want to keep Seraphine at my side forever because she gives my life a new meaning. When she’s near, I’m no longer the outcast on the fringes of the criminal underground, but a man with a purpose.

I carry her to the bathroom, a functional white room with a large soaking tub. After placing Seraphine on its edge, I drop the bag of clothes on the floor and turn on the taps.

She glances around the tiled space. “Why does an interrogation room need a bath?”

“I had the tub installed once I took over the firm. Sometimes, even a hitman needs a little rest and relaxation between torturing hardened motherfuckers for information.”

Her tank top has already gathered around her waist from when I cut its straps, revealing beautiful, firm breasts, tipped with rosy pink nipples. I reach out and circle each areola with my fingertips, making her shiver.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, especially when you’re covered in blood.”

She glances down at her breasts and smiles. “You like the spatters?”

“I like the flesh beneath them more, but the blood makes you look like an avenging angelic warrior.”

I kneel at her feet and pull off her shoes and socks, revealing her dainty little feet. After pressing kisses on each arch, I reach up and slide her leggings down her hips.

Blood covers her belly, her thighs and even the thatch of blonde curls that cover her pussy. Steam rises from the bathtub behind her, creating a faint halo around her body. Maybe I’m drunk on adrenaline and desire, but she looks truly celestial.

I shake my head. “What a dirty little angel you are, covered in another man’s blood.”

“It doesn’t count when it’s the blood of my enemies,” she says with a smirk. “Are you going to wash it off?”

“I’m going to do more than wash you,” I growl.

Seraphine watches me undress with a hunger that would make another man blush. Her lips part each time I remove an item of clothing, making my cock swell to the point of pain. By the time I stand before her in just my boxers, she’s panting.

“Let me.” She reaches for the waistband, her eyes blazing with blue fire.

My heart pounds so hard that its reverberations make my cock throb, and a shiver runs down my spine and settles in my balls. She might be tiny and unarmed, but I’ve seen the damage this woman can do to a penis.

It’s then I realize I just fucked a former Lolita assassin who still hasn’t overcome her compulsive urges to maim and kill. She will use any weapon necessary to castrate a man, including her teeth.

Letting her near that part of my anatomy is like placing it in a steel trap and hoping it won’t get snapped.

But I do it anyway.

Cold sweat breaks out across my skin as she runs her delicate fingers along the waistband of my boxers. As she takes hold of the elastic, she gazes up at me through those huge, cornflower blue eyes.

Her stare is filled with incandescent heat, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a portent of doom.

My cock, that stupid motherfucker, swells at the prospect of Seraphine’s teeth sinking into its flesh. I inhale a deep, shuddering breath, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

It’s not like I mistrust Seraphine. Her needs are simple. She wants to find her brother, get revenge on the men who raped and murdered her mother, and make sure that Samson is in broken pieces, six-feet underground.

And she wants me.

She slides down my boxers, inch by painstakingly slow inch, until the crown of my cock springs free.

Her eyes widen. “Wow,” she says, her voice breathy. “So big.”

From any other woman, those words would be a compliment. I can’t stop thinking about how she sliced Billy Blue’s severed penis like it was salami.

I clear my throat. “That time you bit through Samson’s cock.”

“Yes?” she whispers.

“What happened to the rest of it?”

“I chewed it.” She shrugs and pulls down my boxers, exposing even more of my shaft.

My knees tremble. Seraphine is taking her sweet time and I’m not sure how much of this suspense I can take.

“Why?” I rasp.

“So there would be nothing to sew back.”

She pulls the waistband around my hips, finally freeing my balls. After weighing them in her hands, she runs the pads of her fingers along the underside of my sac, igniting my nervous system with a lightning storm of sensations.

Heaven help me.

Hell, come to my rescue.

I need to concentrate in case something inside her snaps and she turns me into a bitter eunuch.

“Did you swallow?” I ask with a gulp.

She lowers her lashes, wraps her fingers around the base of my shaft, and makes slow, up-and-down strokes. Her non-answer is an answer in itself, but I still have to ask.

“Seraphine?”

Her gaze snaps up to meet mine, and my heart slams against its cage.

“I swallowed as much as I could before Gregor charged in and knocked me unconscious. Are you going to continue asking questions, or do you want this blow job?”