Finally, I stepped outside and went to the shooting range at the end of the yard. I stood facing the target and pulled the gun from my belt. A movement from the side caught my peripheral vision—Ella was settling on the grass in front of a nearby tree.

Did my answer sound like an invitation for her?

I tried to ignore her and focus on the target. It was here that my father first started teaching me to shoot. The range was perfect for practicing, shooting for fun, or calming your nerves, as it was the case now. Although I even didn't know why I felt so nervous at all. Well, maybe the little thing a few feet away, who used to mix so well irritation and good vibes, was messing with my mind, but I still was not ready to confess that.

In any case, the shooting did its job—the mighty sound piercing through the silence, bullet after bullet, until the last round from the magazine went it's way. After pressing the target button, it approached the track to check the result—all the shots inside of the bullseye, and neither one aside.

"Wow!" Ella stood next to me. Almost to forget that she was there. But almost was the keyword. "How did you do that?"

"Practise," I answered without looking at her.

"Axton, would you teach me to shoot?"

"You want to shoot? You could hardly hold a gun."

"I did hold your gun in the taxi, remember?"

It seemed she still was proud of that.

I changed the magazine and fastened the pistol on my belt, only to replace the target with a new one. After it returned to its original position, I got the gun and threw it toward Ella. "Let's see you," I said.

She tried to catch it, but as if she touched something hot, the weapon spun a couple of times in the air until it dropped to the ground.

"That was not fair. I didn't expect that."

"Pick up the gun off the ground."

She tried to give me a look, but I moved my gaze, so she followed the order without a complaint. "Now what?"

"Aim to the target."

Ella slowly raised her hand, pointing it forward, trying to keep her cool, but the tremors were visible from miles away.

"Now turn to me," I said.

"What?"

"Turn to me, keeping your hand up front."

Although uncertain, she did that.

"If you hold a gun that way against someone who is not a taxi driver,"—I grabbed her hand along with the pistol and twisted it so the muzzle rested under her chin—"they'll do that seconds before you could even think of pulling the trigger."

For seconds, she didn't move. I felt her hand sweating under mine. Her breathing became heavy, and I could feel the tension growing in her. I kept the position for a few more seconds, holding my eyes on hers to fasten her heartbeat a little more.

Pleasant moments were that. Then I released my pressure, and she slid her hand down, breathing a relief, yet still squeezing the gun.

"I am not the taxi driver. Neither less Grayson nor people like him are."

When her confidence was obviously killed off, and I hoped she finally realized how stupid she acted that night, I said, "Now face your target and take a step forward with your non-dominant foot."

The silence was back, I liked that. Only my voice was heard, Ella just did what she was ordered to do.

I positioned behind her and raised her right hand up front, then took her left one. "Steady the gun with your free hand."

Her body was not the only one that shivered when I pressed my chest tightly to her back. It was so fucking ridiculous to like the feel of holding her between my arms. Damn! I should have fucked that Susan O'Brian, simple as that, instead of thinking about hugging and cuddling with Ella Zanova. And that was something I planned to correct later that night. I was sure with a short call, the sexy manager would come in no time.

"Now aim,"—I tried to go back to the training thing—"aligning the front sight with the rear sight until the target comes into your focus. When the gun is level, pull the trigger smoothly."

Ella did focus, carefully following my directions, but she exclaimed, disappointed after pulling the trigger. "It didn't fire! Why didn't it fire?"

"Because the gun is not loaded," I answered shortly with a grin while stepping away from her. "Did you really think I would handle you a loaded pistol?"

"I... I don't know. I didn't think about that." She turned around to look at me. "Maybe it was because I had a muzzle pressed on my chin."

I chuckled again. "The gun was not loaded, I already said."

"You could have said that before, not letting me think that if my finger tremble a little, I will kill myself."

I couldn't help but keep laughing.

"That's not funny."

"It's funny, but for me. Anyway, there's no denying that you stood cold-blooded, love."

"Axton, why do you call me like that?"

Simple association? At first. "You were one bastard's beloved one."

"I never loved Grayson."

"He did."

"He can't love. He just has his twisted way of obsession."

I knew he couldn't love. Usually, I would say that people like us can't have feelings at all, but that son of a bitch was heartless on a whole different level. That's why it was so strange to find out he'd loved someone; he'd wanted to marry her and all, but alas, she stabbed him instead. It was kind of poetic, and I was not poetic at all. So, Ella just fitted into that term in an ironic way.

"Okay. I'll stop calling you that if you want." The thought of Grayson touching her, or even worse, hurting her, made my blood boil. It was better to change the subject before losing my temper again. "Now, keep that mad gaze if you want, but turn again to the target. Practice steadying the gun and aiming again. Then repeat."

"How many times?"

"Until I tell you to stop."

I let Ella do that for about an hour or so. I remembered how annoying this process was, but that was exactly what my father had made me do. It helped me get used to the gun's weigh.

After Ella's movements got good enough, I stood again behind her and placed my hands over hers. "Now, you will load the gun." I navigated the weapon to point downrange and helped her pull back the slide and release it. "Aimed carefully. Take a deep breath and hold it. Pull the trigger slowly as you did when dry-fired."

A shot followed, and the bullet hit the target.

"I did it! I did it!"

"Don't jump with the gun!" I raised my tone.

"I'm sorry."

"Now, do it alone."

I took a distance aside.

Ella followed each step precisely, only the bullets flew everywhere but not into the target.

"Keep doing that."

While I was watching her from the side, at some point, Leticia came. "Mr. Dark, I am sorry to bother you, but I wanted to let you know that the dinner is ready and served."

"Thank you. You can go home now. I'll be expecting you in the morning."

"Okay. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Dark."

The cook withdrew, and though I hated to eat cold food, I decided to give Ella a little more time. She looked focused, and on the second magazine, the bullets had already started entering the target, although well away from the bullseye.

But the minutes turned into half an hour, and Ella didn't seem to get tired, nor did the dusk hinder her. However, thunder began to be heard in the distance, and the black clouds above us completely blocked the last daily light. A storm would break out at any moment—in this region, hurricanes often come out of nowhere, and despite passing quickly, it sure was good to be indoors during that time.

"Enough, Ella. It's going to start raining any minute. We have to get inside." As I said that, large drops began to fall from the sky.

"One last shot, please, Axton!"

I clenched my jaw. "Okay." I agreed fully aware that only in a few seconds it will rain hard.

There was no need to say how right I was.

"Oh, my God!" Ella screamed a few moments after that and hurried to give me back the gun.

I grabbed her hand, and we started running to the house. The yard was not extremely huge, but the way was long enough for us to get inside completely wet.

"When I say something, it should be done that way. Didn't we already clear that?" I said to Ella once I closed the back door.

She took the hem of her t-shirt and squeezed it, water dropped down. "Okay. You were right. I should have listened to you."

But then, if she had listened to me, I wouldn't have stayed in front of her, enjoying looking at her wet white t-shirt stuck to her body, making it see-through, and shaping her breasts underneath. It was inexplicable how much sexier this was than the perfectly dressed Susan O'Brian or any other woman in luxurious lingerie or without, overall. How the hell did this girl always manage so easily to turn me on?

"Axton," Ella whispered after neither of us moved for a while. "Thank you for spending time with me."

Her voice was soft, almost lost in the loud thunder while flashes of lightning reflected in her eyes.

Just when she moved closer to me, the power shut off, making her jump up and snuggle into me. Fuck!

"There is a power generator in the house," I said in a neutrally reassuring manner. "It should have turned on right away. I'll check—"

I was about to start walking toward the cellar, which, except for checking the generator, would have cooled me off, but Ella grabbed my arm and stopped me. "Don't." I wasn't seeing her clearly, but I felt her against me; her fingers went through my beard to my chin. "Maybe it's better this way." Alluring notes became evident in her voice, inviting and low. "Maybe this way, you won't be disgusted with me."

I wasn't disgusted with her. I never have been. If she knew that I wanted her in a way, I never wanted a woman before—and I have had so many women that I couldn't count—she would never have thought that.

Though it probably would have been better for her to live with that thought—I might not be disgusted, but I was not the man she needed, for sure. And if this humanity that Dahlia so stubbornly talked about really existed in me, it was exactly it that was trying to make me stay away from her.

But it was too late now, as her hands slid slowly over my chest until they reached my belt, and with the same sensual pace, she started to unbutton my jeans. Smoothly, she moved down to position her face between my legs. Her tasty lips encircled me, and her tongue began to chart its way among the pumped veins. Fuck, I felt so good in her mouth.

I wrapped her hair around my palm, supporting her head as she picked up her pace. Each of her moves, sucking me in and out, gave a new feel to this so-familiar feeling. From time to time, her tongue focused only on the head of my cock, licking all around, making my breathing unsteady. I was growing harder, craving to get back to deep throat, only until I was on the edge. Just then, Ella returned to suck softly, occasionally licking the shaft of my cock all the way and back, not letting my pleasure end.

"Keep going, keep—" Her final deep suck made me explode, letting her drink me away.

She swallowed, and only that sound started to pump my veins again. I helped her stand up and cup her face, opening her lips with my thumbs. "You were so fucking good."

Her tongue welcomed my fingers. A lighting flashed, and I bit my lip at the sight. I let her suck them, I let her play while I pulled her t-shirt up to bare her breast.

Flashes continued to betray her ecstasy look, fuck, she was so hot.

I started to kiss her, making a place for my tongue in her mouth, while I put my wet fingers under her jeans and smoothly slid them in her—she was so ready to take me inside. I thrust them to their limit a couple of times, causing loud moans to escape her mouth.

"Ax..."

The way she breathed out my name.

I stopped only a couple of seconds to remove her clothes, then mine, while at the same time ripping with teeth the edge of a condom. When I put it on me, I lifted her in the air, pressing her against the door. Her thighs tightened around my waist, and she moved her pelvis toward me to take me deeply in her.

She was meeting my rhythm, welcoming my every push. I pulled her hair back, her chest arched forward. I sucked on her nipple hard, then moved on to the other. Her moans grew louder, and I adored that sound of her voice.

That girl was driving me crazy, with each second making me harder in her. She clung her fingers to my back, squirming between my body and the cold door. I wanted to take her to her limit and beyond, make her cum so many times but to want me back.

There she went. Once. I spun with her, and carried her to the table, where the dinner once stood and now was scattered on the floor.

The electricity got back, making me enjoy seeing her naked under me, her juices more delicious than any taste.

Second time. She wanted more. I wanted more. Still didn't have enough.

We moved on the couch, only changing the pose.

Third time. I wanted to have her in all the possible ways.

Fourth.

That was the point when I stopped to count but not stopping to fuck her the whole night.