Owned by the Hitman

Chapter 12: Katy

I reach across the table, place my hand on Ivan's wrist earnestly, and he locks my eyes in the deepest, most entrancing gaze. He slowly, delicately lifts my hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. I feel my heart tripping over itself with excitement. Ivan does not take his eyes off of me, does not lower my hand, but raises his other hand to snap his fingers, getting the waitress's attention. She hurries over, and I can all but feel her tension as she witnesses the smoldering heat between us at the table. Poor girl, I think. You're standing too close to the flame.

"Ready for the tab?" the waitress asks meekly after a moment.

Ivan nods, then finally breaks away for just a second to reply, "Yes. We are."

"I'll get that right now, then, sir." She rushes away, undoubtedly blushing. I, however, feel surprisingly cool. Something has shifted between Ivan and I over the course of our time at this table. I know him better now, better than perhaps anyone else. I don't imagine that Ivan is the sort of man to share just that sort of personal detail with just anyone. I have gotten the impression that he lives a solitary kind of existence — without friends to confide in, without family to remember him as he used to be so long ago.

He has shown me his own heart, even just for a short moment.

And now I want — no, need — him to show me another side of him, a different part.

He pays the bill, leaving an overly-generous tip, and leads me out the door by the hand. We step out into a sudden swirl of snowflakes, the air so cold it momentarily takes my breath away. Just as I gasp at the temperature, Ivan pulls me close and seizes my mouth in an engulfing kiss, his hand clawing at my hair, trailing down to clutch my ass. With my lungs tightening in my chest, I feel an inexplicable euphoria. He pulls back to stare hungrily into my face.

My throat opens and immediately I inhale sharply. Ivan raises an eyebrow and cracks a slow, somewhat diabolical grin. He's no sadist, I know, but he seems to be taking a unique pleasure in depriving me briefly of air. And I have to admit that I kind of like it, too.

"What do you say we get somewhere warm and lose these clothes?" Ivan growls huskily, moving close to breathe the words into my ear, sending a shiver down my neck.

"We've got a long drive back," I reply, unable to repress the slight pout in my voice.

Ivan kisses me again, harder this time. "I have a place much closer."

He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me down the street to hail a cab. Even in the heavy snow, it only takes about ten seconds for a driver to take notice and pull over for him. I wonder what it must be like, being so riveting and powerful a figure as Ivan. The world seems to fall hushed in awe at the sight of his stature, the sound of his voice. Being at his side, I feel as though I'm in the presence of a power I have never touched before. And if I just stay with him, I get to share in the glory of it. Like I'm made bigger, stronger, almost invincible beside him.

We climb into the cab and Ivan gives the driver some quick instructions, and then we're off, winding quickly through traffic, peeling off down side-streets. I halfway wonder if Ivan slipped him something, we're going so fast. But I can't worry. I physically can't bring myself to give a damn about anything but the desire rising in me, the need to be impossibly close to the impressive man seated beside me. Luckily, he seems to feel the same way.

Ivan turns to me and entangles both hands in my hair, pulling me to him in a kiss. Before I can stop myself or think better of it, I clamber over to straddle him in the back seat of the taxi cab, never breaking our kiss. Ivan slides his hands down my back and down over the slope of my ass, giving it a quick smack. I moan into his mouth and move closer, my crotch coming full-flush against his. I can feel myself getting aroused, even through the layers of clothing separating our bodies.