Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

NEO

T he car drops us off near the Hilton London Hyde Park, a grand hotel. It's near beautiful parks, gardens, and many easily accessible sights and attractions.

The woman I'm after lives in Mayfair, conveniently located only two miles away. While this trip is disguised as a honeymoon, my stupid girl knows we're here to work.

There's a giddy energy to her that usually keeps my veins buzzing, but today, that energy is missing. I check in while she hangs back, looking at the chandeliers and grandeur above her.

She was restless and quiet on the plane ride, which took far too long. A man like me shouldn't be cooped up for that length of time. It makes my brain itch.

She's throwing me off, and I don't like it.

I'm sure it's only because I've taken the reins back when my little psychopath loves to break free. Not here.

I need her to behave here, which she had agreed to.

As I push the elevator button, I realize that the problem might be me. I've grown used to my rare gem of a woman—now wife. Lyla's behavior is a rarity, which surely has me on edge.

I wonder if her new calm demeanor is because I asked her to behave.

The card slides into the lock, which lights green. I push into the suite and hold the door for Lyla as she pulls her rolling bag behind her and steps inside.

"This is beautiful," she says with an air of whimsy that I haven't heard since we stepped foot in Crows Hollow again when Kage Davis was loose.

"It is. I thought you'd like it, stupid girl."

She grins at me before leaving her bag at the end of the bed and entering the bathroom. She squeals when she sees the tub's size.

I plan to use that tub later. However, I want to understand Lyla's behavior on the trip here.

"Stupid girl, come here," I say, tossing my two bags onto the bed. One is full of clothing, the other full of things that I'm lucky to have gotten past security.

"Yes?" she asks; a buzzing energy in her tone skates up my legs and caresses the underside of my balls.

"Something's wrong with you," I say, running the back of my finger down her cheek.

She shakes her head, but her pupils constrict and give her away.

"What has you on edge?"

"I'm not on…"

My face hardens. She knows I hate lies.

She licks her lips, and I envision sucking her tongue into my mouth later. I need it like air, but I also need to know why she's acting irregularly.

I can't work when she's not content.

I hate I can't, but it's a fact .

We're one now.

The idea sinks through my brain and causes a needling tingle. It takes everything in me not to shiver.

"I'm just worried about being here. It's unfamiliar territory. We don't know our way around, and I don't want to…"

She's worried about getting caught killing Anne Hatt. She's not here to do anything, however.

"Stupid girl, you're here on your honeymoon. You're not here to worry."

Her eyes narrow. "But we also have a job to do, right? I know that you're here to kill?—"

I silence her by covering her mouth with my hand. "I am here to kill Anne Hatt, stupid wife. You're here to enjoy yourself and to be my perfect little fuck toy."

Her breathing grows ragged behind my hand, and I smirk.

"There's my girl. Don't worry. Worrying gets you in trouble. Worrying gets you dead."

Her tongue darts out and licks my palm that still covers her mouth.

I pull my hand back.

"Fine. I won't worry. What are we going to do first?"

"First, I'm going to wash you. Then I'm going to fuck you senseless in that massive tub in there."

She claps her hands, bouncing up and down.

Yes, this version of Lyla is what I need to feel whole.

"Get undressed and be in the shower by the time I get in there," I tell her, turning to remove things out of my pockets to do the same.

"Yes, sir," she replies breathlessly.

I shake my head when I walk into the bathroom and see her naked but not in the shower .

She's kneeling beside the running shower, grinning at me.

"Didn't I tell you to be in the shower?"

She's prodding at me, and because it's our honeymoon, I'll play along.

Were it any other time, her disobedience wouldn't be a fucking game. Her answering smirk tells me she knows it, too.

"Oh, did you?" she asks, feigning confusion. "I knew I was forgetting some part of your order."

I step close to her, looming as I look down at her.

From here, I can see her perfect, perky nipples and the sinfully dark look in her eyes as she bites her lower lip.

"You always need direction." I shake my head.

She runs her hands up the front of my bare legs, making my cock twitch in answer to her touch.

"Will you tire of directing me, husband?"

The term grates through my gray matter, making my body feel so fucking alive.

I reach down and fist her hair in both hands, guiding her mouth to my cock as I shove inside it with one thrust.

"Never!"

The tub is only filled with a few inches of water, and I'm on its edge. Lyla's beautiful, branded ass is arched perfectly as I use the globes of it to push and pull her on my cock.

Her face dances dangerously close to the water in the bottom as she grapples on her forearms, not to slide away from my cock.

"Put your face in the water. I'll tell you when you can breathe," I tell her, hissing when she listens quickly.

I came down her throat earlier before ever getting into the shower. Then, as we showered, I made her come with my tongue thrusting inside her cunt, and we called for room service.

We're both jetlagged like a motherfucker, but there was no way in fuck I wasn't making good on my threat to fuck her in this tub.

Bubbles sound as she struggles below the water, and I slap her ass and allow her air.

She gasps, coming up for air like a surfacing monster. "Fuck, harder," she breathes, and I slap her ass again, tugging her down on my cock harder at the same time.

"Goddamnit, you shouldn't feel this fucking good," I grit out.

My hands travel her curves as she claps her ass cheeks and dances her cunt over my cock.

"Tell me how good I feel," she breathes.

"You feel…" I hiss as she quickens her pace. "You feel like the first sip of coffee in the morning."

"Fuck, that's good," she whines, her arms moving backward for a better purchase as she fucks me with everything she has.

My hands travel over her ass cheeks and down her sides, gripping her supple, soft flesh there.

"Face under the water, stupid girl. Don't come back until this pretty cunt is coming for me," I tell her, shoving my nails into her sides as she moans.

Following my command, she drops her face into the water as we work together to reach our goal .

I dig my nails in further on either side of her ribcage before I drag them back towards me. They sink into her flesh and embed her DNA beneath them.

I want every fucking part of her to be a part of me.

I want her as close as I can get her.

Her scream is gurgled under the water as I feel her pussy dance around me.

She comes, not lifting her head as she forgets about air and only focuses on her mission to finish coming.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," I groan as I spill inside her, using her ass to move her body on me once more, as she's gone lax.

It takes a minute to realize she's not moving, and I roll my eyes, lift her out of the water, and lay her on her back.

My dick hardens all over again as I listen to her chest.

Not finding a pulse, I see the spot on the end of her breastbone to place my hands and begin compressions.

I don't think she meant to drown this time. I think she was too caught up in the feeling of me inside her, and that makes my stomach giddy as fuck.

She was so enraptured she forgot to breathe. What other man can say that about his wife?

None.

She sputters water from her lungs, and I turn her over.

Her gasping makes my cock stiffen.

Death has that effect on me.

She's on her side as I slip onto mine behind her, finding her asshole with the tip of my leaking cock.

My hand slides over her hip as she's still coughing, finding her clit through her swollen lips.

"Let me in, stupid girl. I want to fuck your ass," I moan.

She lifts a leg, opening herself to me as I angle correctly, gaining headway as my cock fights its way inside her tight asshole.

"Fuck," I hiss.

"Neo." She covers my hand with hers, moving my fingers over her clit rougher than I'd been doing.

"Good fucking girl," I praise, already feeling the itch of a second orgasm coming on behind the one I just had.

"More," she breathes, her voice ragged from her coughing fit. "Please, more."

I find her entrance with my fingers, using my leftover cum as a lubricant. At least, what's not already dripped into her ass and around my cock that's thrusting shallowly into her ass.

I shove two fingers inside her. "Rub your clit. I won't last. I never do with you."

I always want her to come first, and usually, she does. The way she feels tonight, however, has me fighting, spilling in her ass like a teenager fucking his first hole.

With my other hand, I snake under her head and wrap it around her throat.

She just danced so close to death most wouldn't want to risk it.

Not me, however.

I want her constantly on the edge of life when I fuck her. I want her to know who holds the power.

As I skim my lips over her ear, only the tip of my dick fucks into her ass, and she arches her back to accommodate more of me inside of her.

"I want you to come all over my fingers so I can fill your ass full, stupid girl. Even though you disobeyed me earlier, I want you to go to bed with this pussy so fucking raw that you can't sleep through its throbbing," I taunt, nipping the edge of her ear .

She moans, her walls fluttering around my fingers at my words.

"Yes, there you go. Be my good fucking girl and come all over my fingers. Your ass feels too good, wife…"

She erupts like a volcano around my fingers, taking me with her as I shove forward and let my cock empty in her ass.

When I pull out, I lift her ass cheek.

"Push it out. I want to see my cum leak out of your ass."

Madness is unfurled inside me when she listens. She opens her ass and lets my cum seep out of her.

It runs over her other cheek and slides to the floor, making a little puddle.

I grind forward with my hips, running the head of me through the mess.

Swiping my fingers through some of my cum, I rub it over her brand.

The unhinged way I behave used to worry me. Not with her, however.

Because as I work my cum into my name on her ass, she's moaning and arching into my touch.

While I might be a fucked-up man, I never have to worry about anything I do when I'm with her.

It's why I can't ever be without her.

Even if she still might worry that I want to kill her.

Fear is a wonderful motivator, though.

Let her worry.