Born into blood, I was a mafia princess. Raised in hiding, I was a Californian sweetheart.
The day my father sold my thirteen year old body to pay off a five year old debt was the day my mother stole me in the dead of night. She protected me as she was supposed to.
My father may have been the king, but my mother was the queen.
The mafia blood was hers.
That was ten years ago. Now… the devil was on the loose.
Carlo ‘Hunter’ Rosso was my father’s right hand man and the boy I’d loved since I could tie my own shoelaces. He was always the most ruthless and the most deadly of all the children.
He’d thought I was dead until the day his assignment was given: Kill Adriana and Alexandria Romano. Kill the princess, and definitely kill the queen.
What he didn’t know was that the queen was dead, and the princess had taken her throne.
Blood didn’t lie. It smeared, distorted, stained. But it didn’t lie.
My father was going to learn the hard way that the empire he’d stolen belonged to me.
And so did Carlo ‘Hunter’ Rosso.
He leaned forward and rested his mouth by my ear. “You still have time to make me stop. I meant it, Addy.” Two of his fingers trailed up the inside of my thigh, coming dangerously close to my wet pussy. “I don't want to ruin you. I don't play nice, but the second my mouth is on your cunt, I won't be fucking playing at all.”
I turned my face toward his, and my lips brushed his jaw when I spoke. “Then don't play.”
He pushed two fingers inside me, and I gasped at the sudden intrusion of my body. Heat rushed over me as he pumped them inside me and gripped the back of my neck. “You have until I reach 'one' to make me stop. Five.” He dragged his mouth down my neck. “Four.” His tongue circled my nipple, and he pressed his thumb against my clit. “Three.” He released my neck, licking down my stomach and dipping his tongue into my naval, falling back onto his knees, still bending forward. “Two.” His mouth hovered over my pussy, and he pulled his fingers from my me. “One and a half...”
I half-laughed, half-gasped as he dipped his fingers back inside me.
He grasped my ass with both hands and lifted my hips. “Fucking. One.” He slowly ran his tongue up the length of my pussy, from my ass to my clit.
I threw my arm over my eyes as he zoned in on my clit. Pleasure rocketed through me like waves as he worshipped that tiny spot, rolling his tongue over it again and again. I writhed against him as he fucked me with his mouth, bringing me close the edge before he pulled back and stretched his tongue inside my pussy inside.
I was mumbling incoherently. I didn't know if I was begging for more, for the end, or if I was just pleading his name. The only thing I was sure I knew was that I didn't want him to stop but he needed to stop right now.
“Please tell me you have a condom,” he rasped, his fingers tightening on my thighs like all his retraint was being channeled through his touch.
I nodded and waved toward my nightstand. I was the kind of girl who was prepared for every situation, and apparently having sex with my assassin was one of those.
The drawer slammed open and shut within seconds, and I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him. Hunter dropped his pants, and my throat went dry as he pulled down his boxers. The tip of his cock was just free when he noticed me watching him. His lips tugged up on one side, and the look in his eyes was heated and predatory, but amusement glinted, too.
“I thought you didn't play.”
My words were a challenge, one that sobered him.
The smirk dropped, along with his boxers, and his cock sprung free from the constraints of the fabric. Desire hit me like a tidal wave as he ripped open the packet and pulled out the condom. He grabbed his long, hard cock in a firm grip and rolled on the protection.
I was never surer that a guy touching his own cock was the hottest fucking thing ever.
The second the condom was on fully, Hunter climbed back onto the bed over me and grabbed my hips. I half-laughed as he dragged me down to him, but he swallowed my giggle as he closed his mouth over mine.
He was inside me seconds later.
About The Author
Blaire Drake is a pseudonym for a New York Times bestselling author who wanted to think outside her box and write the kind of things that would shock even them. She loves taboo romance and pushing boundaries in her work. She also enjoys long walks on the beach at sunset, as long as it’ll be followed by a good, old-fashioned spanking right after. DEAR PROFESSOR is her debut standalone novel, and her next book, PRETTY PORNSTAR, is also a standalone novel that promises to be equally as taboo and sexy.
You’re also invited to join her reader group Blaire's Babes