Vanessa
"Is this... safe?" I stammer, my voice trembling slightly as I peer at him through the safety glasses, feeling the weight of the earmuffs as he slides them over my ears.
My eyes flick over to the table where an array of guns is laid out and loaded. When he mentioned we were going to have a "busy" day, I didn't anticipate this to be the reason. Nor did I expect to find a gun range in the beach house, but I suppose it aligns with the fact that I'm married to a criminal.
Diego cracks a smile. "Would your husband put you in harm's way?"
"No," I reply, my voice soft yet confident. If anything, he's too overprotective.
"Good girl," he murmurs approvingly. "Now, go pick out a gun."
Nervously, I approach the table and pick up a handgun. The memory of the man I killed flashes in my mind, and I flinch, immediately putting the gun back down. Unaware that Diego is standing right behind me, a gasp escapes my lips as my back meets his chest. My heart stutters against my ribcage.
"In this world, we cannot allow fear to control us," he murmurs, his voice low yet commanding. "It's kill, or be killed, and I won't allow my queen to be taken away from me." He picks up the gun and gently guides it into my hands. "Hold it steady, with your finger away from the trigger."
"I-I can't," I whisper, my voice barely audible amidst the rush of emotions.
"You can and you will." His voice is firmer now, brimming with conviction. He covers my hands with his own, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to the smooth metal of the weapon. With his guidance, I manage to keep it steady, despite the tremors coursing through me. Once he lets go, I maintain my grip on the gun this time, determined not to let my fear overpower me.
Diego steps away to watch, gesturing for me to begin. I take a deep breath and aim at the paper target in the distance. Continuing to hold the gun steadily, I turn off the safety and pull the trigger. I nearly hit the center of it.
His mouth twitches with approval. "Good girl. See, you're a natural."
Despite his praise, guilt gnaws at my conscience, settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. "I don't want to be a natural at killing people. I don't ever want to do that again," I say, my words laced with disgust.
Silently, he takes the gun from my hands, effortlessly firing the remaining bullets in the chamber, hitting the center each time. Then, he sets the weapon down and turns to me, a dark shadow crossing his face.
"Vanessa," his voice is low and charged with emotion. "When it comes to you, there are no boundaries to what I would do. I will become the monster that chases away your nightmares. I will consume your fears entirely. I will obliterate anyone who dares to threaten you."
He grips my chin firmly, compelling me to meet his penetrating gaze. "But if you ever find yourself in danger and I'm not there to protect you, you will pull that fucking trigger. You will fight your way back to me. Do you understand?"
His words strike a chord deep within me, and I struggle to contain the emotions welling up inside. I swallow hard, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over.
"I understand," I whisper, acknowledging the weight of his command.
He presses his lips gently to mine, a silent reassurance before loading another magazine into the gun. "Good. Now try again."
A few hours pass by, and Diego has me experiment with the other guns, including the automatic ones. Surprisingly, I find them easier to shoot than the handguns. The experience is honestly exhilarating, stirring up something deep inside me that I can't quite put into words.
Watching Diego handle a gun is nothing short of captivating. He's sexy as hell. There's a raw magnetism in the confidence and precision of his movements, a testament to his lifelong familiarity with firearms. I don't even want to know the age he was when he first had to make the decision to end someone's life. The answer would surely break me.
As we tidy up and store the guns in their cases, I steal a glance at him. "Hey, I was wondering... why don't you call me mascota anymore?"
I realized he hasn't called me that since I sucked him off right before the wedding.
I think I kinda miss it.
His gaze meets mine, and he responds without hesitation. "Because I can't call you that when it's me who wants to be on my knees for you."
A surge of heat rushes through my body, and my core clenches at his suggestive words. Locking up the last case, he turns to me. "You've done well today. What do you want to do for the rest of the day?"
I suck my lip between my teeth, considering his offer. "Anything I want?"
"Of course," he answers softly.
With a newfound boldness, I step closer to him, my gaze locked with his as I reach for the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, I undo each one, feeling the tension build between us. As the fabric falls away from his shoulders, I press kisses along his perfect chest, savoring the warmth of his skin. My lips trail upwards, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his neck until I reach his earlobe. With a teasing flick of my tongue, I gently suck on the skin, reveling in the shiver that courses through him.
I can't help but smile mischievously. "I want to do you, my dear husband," I whisper in his ear.
His hand snakes around my neck, gently pushing me back so he can meet my gaze. His expression has transformed into something primal, igniting a blend of fear and excitement within me. The air between us crackles with the weight of our mutual desire, thickening with the intoxicating scent of our lust.
"Don't start something you can't finish," he warns in a ragged breath.
"I want to finish it," I reply without hesitation.