The Hitman's Christmas Wish: Holiday Belles

That doesn’t sit well with me. Not at all. I know all about being a good wife. He doesn’t know it yet, but his waiting days are over. I meant it when I said I’d never tell him no. I want to please him just as he’s pleased me, and I will not be deterred. I can wait to be claimed until we get married, but I taste him as he’s tasted me.

After all, reciprocity is a beautiful thing.

CHAPTER 3

ALONZO

Every swipe of my tongue through her juices is heaven. Pure heaven. She squirms under me, and I have to put my hands on her hips to keep her firmly in place.

“Lonzo,” she says, slurring my name. She pumps her hips, getting closer to my face as if that were even possible. “Stop, it’s too much.”

“Never,” I say before dipping back into her. I fuck her with my tongue, mimicking what cock desperately wants to do. I’m hard and about to bust the zipper on my jeans, but I ignore it.

“Oh, God,” she screams. She screams and shakes; I take every last drop she has to give me. When she comes back down to Earth, I help her off of the counter and kiss her.

“Where are your clothes? Anyone could have you like this,” I say, just now realizing that she’s been naked for the better part of an hour.

“Right here,” she says, pulling on a tiny pair of black cotton shorts no bigger than panties. Then she pulls on a hot pink tank top that barely contains her tits. “Besides, I watched the monitor in order to see when you got here,” she says, pointing to the cabinet where the security monitors are for the kitchen. “I wouldn’t have bared myself to anyone but you,” she assures me.

“Good girl,” I say, pulling her closer to me. She kisses me and runs her hand over my cock.

“Oh, my,” she gasps, gripping me a little harder. Fuck.

“Bella,” I warn, trying to push her hands away from me. I can’t explode now.

“No. I wanna see it,” she says, biting her bottom lip. I don’t say anything as she drops to her knees in front of me. What would I say anyway? No, don’t? Yeah, right. Deftly, she opens the clasp on my jeans and slowly lowers the zipper. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she slips them down just enough. Leaning in closer, she does the same to my boxers. My cock springs out and hits her chin with a little plop. I can see my precum glistening on her. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Bella?” I growl.

“Shh, I’m looking. I’m taking you in just like you took me in.”

“Damn,” I say, unable to say anything else. She shocks me by snaking her very pink tongue out, gobbling up my precum eagerly. Moaning, she wraps her lips around the head of my cock. There are no words to describe what I’m feeling now. My hands tangle in her long, blonde hair and hold onto her. “You are so fucking good at this, Tesoro. Too fucking good at this.

“What the fuck is going on here?” An angry Fabrizo shouts, jarring me out of the trance she’s put me in. Fuck, I wasn’t paying attention to our surroundings. Of course, it would be her father who

“Daddy?” Bella screams. I help her to her feet, tuck my cock back into my pants, zip them up then turn to stand in front of her before anyone can see her or her swollen lips. I feel her wipe her lips on my back, and I have to stifle a grin. The look in her father’s eye turns murderous.

“Bella? Again I ask what the fuck is going on here?”

“Sir,” I begin, looking around the room, blanching, when I notice the giant wet spot on the counter. Shit.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends on what you think it is, Daddy,” Bella says. I can feel her silent laughter against my back.

“Get over here, daughter,” he says when I notice the men standing behind him. All of whom are either hiding their laughter or looking at me with pure jealousy in their eyes.

“No,” I shout, preventing her from moving. “She is not dressed properly. Leave, now.” I demand, looking at men.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Fratelli,” Fabrizo says, calmly reaching for his sidearm. Shit.

“Daddy, don’t. It’s my fault.”

“No, mia bella, the fault is mine. Be quiet. I’ll handle this,” I tell her.

“Sir?” Matteo, an enforcer, asks, looking at Fabrizio.

“Out,” he says in response, and the men scatter.

“Sir, I can explain.”

“Someone had better explain.”

“Daddy, stop it. We’re in love.”

“That is clear to me,” he says, pacing the room. “You will be wed as soon as possible.”

“I have already asked her, sir.”

“I think under the circumstances here; you better call me Fabrizio.”

“I don’t think so, sir.”