Dirty Angels 02 Dirty Deeds by Karina Halle

wanted.
    “Now, do you know why you were hit?” he asked, soft enough not to break the spell of his fingers on my face. He ran a thumb under my bottom lip and I nearly lost it.
    “No,” I said quietly, sucking in my breath.
    “Everything that happened to your family, didn’t happen recently. You have no idea why someone would do this to you now?”
    I shook my head. Everything in the past had been done to hurt my father or to hurt Javier. But honestly, I didn’t know if that was it. If someone really wanted to make a statement, they would kidnap me, not try and take me out. If they kidnapped me they could get Javier to bend at their will.
    The only thing was, I wasn’t certain that Javier would do that. Sometimes I felt like I wasn’t even related to him. Though he always said how important family and loyalty was, sometimes I wondered if he would let me die in the streets if it suited him. Family came second to the cartel, to the drugs, to the money, to the power. It always had. He was just good at fooling people.
    “What are you thinking about?” he asked, inching closer to me.
    “About all the ways there is to die.”
    “None of them are going to happen to you.”
    “You sound so sure.” And yet I believed him. At least, I wanted to. I wanted so much from this man. I could feel the intensity burning off of him, infecting me, making me feverish from head to toe.
    His face was so close now, his eyes half-closed with lust and focused on my lips.
    “Are you going to kiss me?” I whispered.
    “Yes,” he murmured.
    “Are you going to fuck me?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    A small, brief smile flashed across his lips and then he leaned forward. The kiss was soft for a moment, just enough time for me to luxuriate in the dreamy fullness of his lips, the way they covered mine, wet and warm and wanting. It pulled me in, stirred something deep inside, like a small candle flame that was growing with each feathery stroke of tongue against tongue, each long, lingering taste.
    He pulled his lips away a millimeter to catch his breath and it felt like he was stealing mine.
    Then his mouth came back onto my own, hard and fast and urgent. His large hand gripped the back of my neck, the other wrapped around my waist as he tugged me toward him. My nipples immediately went hard, brushing against the inside of his baggy shirt I was wearing. Heat pooled between my legs, throbbing for him already.
    Damn, he was good at kissing. Each passionate melding of our lips and tongue was stoking the fire inside until I felt ready to self-combust. I moaned against him, trading in the ability to breathe for the ability to be fucked by his mouth. He was so needing, probing, greedy. I loved it, wanted more, wanted everything.
    He slipped his hand under the shirt, finding my breast. He gasped, raspy and deep, as his fingers found my nipples, rubbing over their stiffness.
    I loved a bit of foreplay. Making out was a long lost art.
    But I needed this man inside me and badly. I needed him for a few days now. From the stiff bulge in his boxer briefs, I could tell he felt the same way.
    “Fuck me,” I whispered as his lips found my neck and sucked along there. “Don’t be gentle.”
    He paused for a moment, probably remembering my injuries.
    “Don’t be gentle,” I repeated, my good hand holding the back of his head, his buzz-cut hair both rough and soft against my palm.
    “I won’t,” he mumbled against my neck. Then he pulled away and got up. In a second he got his strong arms under my body and was lifting me up in the air. So effortless. I really felt like I was going to get fucked by superhero or something. He definitely had that whole Captain America thing going on.
    He put me down on the bed and pulled the rest of my dress off as I tried to shimmy out of it. There was lying naked, legs open on the bed, bare for him to see. And boy, did he seem to see it. He stared down at my body, his eyes roving over me in such a way that I could feel their