His Bold Seduction (Bloodlines & Betrayal #3)

5. Isadora

5

ISADORA

I 'm not a whore. I might have slept with Liam in a way that made it seem like I was, but that was merely because I thought I loved him, or at least I convinced myself of that. There's a certain allure to being ravished by powerful men that can strip away all of your inhibitions, leaving you vulnerable yet exhilarated. That’s precisely why Costantino captivates me so much.

He possesses a thick, burly chest, the kind that radiates strength and confidence, covered in a sparse layer of dark hair that adds to his rugged appeal. His eyes are piercing, a sharp gaze that seems capable of cutting a man down or disrobing a woman with just a glance. When his hands explore my body, they field my cries with a squeeze here or a gentle touch there, igniting a fire within me that I can’t ignore. While Costantino may not be the official boss of the Bianchi family, there is an undeniable power in his presence, an aura that draws me in and holds me captive.

Even more intoxicating is the power he wields with his cock. He is acutely aware of the effect he has on me. As he strokes himself while crawling onto the bed, there's no hint of embarrassment in his demeanor. Instead, he embraces his desire, growing harder with each passing moment, and moans in sheer pleasure. “See what you do to me,” he growls enticingly next to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “See how hard you make me.”

It's human nature to compare lovers, and in this case, Costantino surpasses them all. Unlike Liam, who often degraded me with his disregard, Costantino treats me with a respect that ignites something deeper within. I recall those days when my best friend's brother would selfishly seek his own pleasure and then leave me wanting, oblivious to my needs. I knew he was destined to become the head of the Gallagher family, but I had never imagined that such a title would translate into a lack of consideration for others.

Costantino is not selfish. Not in the way he drags his cock across my clit, teasingly igniting every nerve ending, or the way his lips travel along my jawline, leaving a trail of warmth that lingers on my skin. He is a giver in every sense of the word. Even when my nails dig into the soft flesh of his shoulder blade, leaving crescent-shaped marks, Costantino doesn't stop, fully consumed by the moment. "I need you, Isadora," he whispers, his breath hot and intoxicating as he urges his cock toward my entrance, a promise of what’s to come. "I need to feel you wrapped around me." His teeth graze my earlobe, and I have to bite my lip to stifle the cry that threatens to escape, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

When he juts his hips forward, spearing my center with an intensity that leaves me breathless, the pain is exquisite, a thrilling contrast to the pleasure he brings. It is light years away from my first experience, filled with uncertainty and awkwardness, but this—his size nearly rips me in two, yet it feels so right. He fills me so completely, opening me up in ways I had only dreamed of, that if my father were to walk in at this moment and kill us both, I would die happy, utterly fulfilled in this ecstatic bliss.

I feel him grabbing my ass, his hands firm and possessive as he tilts my hips toward his, aligning us perfectly. My eyes are halfway to the back of my skull, blitzed out of my mind with pleasure, each thrust sending shockwaves through me as he plunges in and out of my wet center with relentless urgency. Every slam of his hips against mine drives his thick, girthy cock deeper inside of me, filling me in ways I never knew I craved. I cling to his biceps for dear life, anchoring myself to him even though there is nowhere to escape this intoxicating connection. I feel like I'm going to explode, a whirlwind of sensations as he bites the tender skin at the nape of my neck, his teeth sending shivers down my spine.

The more that I feel, the more that I want. I tilt my hips up impatiently, a silent plea for him to impale me harder, faster, deeper, to take me to a place I’ve never been before. It’s all too much, yet somehow not enough at the same time, leaving me in a state of desperate yearning that only he can satisfy.

My heart hammers in my chest, a relentless drumbeat that echoes the chaos of my emotions. I can feel the build-up leading to an earth-shattering orgasm, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume me whole. My muscles contract, each pulse sending shockwaves through my body, and oxytocin overwhelms me like a warm, enveloping fog. I am hot and sweaty, my skin glistening as I struggle to keep my scream to a dull roar, each wave of ecstasy filling every part of me with a sweet intensity that borders on overwhelming. Behind my eyelids, I can see stars, vibrant and swirling, as if the universe itself is responding to the storm raging within me.

Then, Costantino comes, and somehow, in that moment, it’s even better than I could have ever imagined. The feeling of his forehead pressed against mine is electric, a connection that transcends the physical. His restrained growl vibrates through the air, a primal sound that stirs something deep within me. His hands grip every bit of skin they can find, igniting a fire that burns brighter than anything I've ever experienced. This moment is greater than any orgasm I've had before, perhaps because it’s shared with someone who genuinely cares about me. Or maybe it’s just that he’s exceptionally skilled. Regardless, I’ll never truly know.

But we’re too loud, the heat of our passion spilling over into the world beyond our sanctuary. Despite both of us trying to hold back our moans and cries, my parents are at my bedroom door, knocking insistently and demanding to be let in. I can hear someone jiggling the door handle, and I know that it’s probably my father, his impatience palpable.

Costantino swears under his breath as he rolls off of me, the moment shifting from blissful to frantic. "If I didn't know you were twenty, I'd be genuinely concerned about the fact that your parents are this invested in your sex life," he mutters, the humor tinged with urgency.

Instead of pulling on the clothes I was previously wearing, I dart over to my closet, heart racing, and grab a sundress. I slide into it quickly, the fabric a comforting embrace against my skin. "Imagine how they felt when they found out I’d been having sex since I was sixteen,” I tell him with a cheeky wink, trying to lighten the moment even as the reality of our predicament looms large.

I make sure Costantino's cock is tucked away before I crack the door open. He stands behind me, his toned chest exposed, and I face my parents in a completely new outfit that feels both daring and absurdly inappropriate. Nothing suspicious about this at all. "Can I help you?" I ask, forcing a casual tone despite the tension in the air.

"You fucked the moving guy?" Dad's voice is a low growl, and his expression is a mix of disbelief and anger, as if he’s ready to bulldoze right past me to confront Costantino.

But Costantino is unfazed, standing tall. "I actually work at a jewelry store for my father. I'm just here to help a friend out,” he says, flashing a bland smile that barely masks his discomfort.

I swing the door open wider, inviting both of my parents to peer into the room, as if I could somehow distract them from the reality of the situation. Mom's face twists in horror, her hand covering her mouth in shock, while Dad's expression darkens, and it seems like he's ready to pull out a gun and shoot Costantino on the spot. If I’d known I could elicit this level of general disgust over my choices, I would have invited Liam over years ago, just for the sheer thrill of it.

"Do you always fuck your friends, Isadora?" Dad's tone drips with disdain as he looks at me, his nose wrinkled in revulsion.

I pretend to ponder his question, tapping my chin thoughtfully before shrugging. "Don't be so crass. I only fuck for favors, and I needed someone to help me move out. Since you’re cutting me off, how else did you think I was going to pay him?” The look on Costantino's face is priceless; his eyes go wide, and I can almost see him swallowing back a wave of nausea.

Dad, however, appears even more enraged, as if my words have pushed him to his limit. "You're a disgusting excuse for a daughter, Isadora. Send this hooligan away. I've had enough of your antics." His voice booms through the room, filled with an authority that leaves no room for argument.

I can fight my own fights; I've been doing it all my life. I've even taken on other people's battles because sometimes, they just need a hand. But I'm not accustomed to anyone stepping up to bat for me, to defend me or my choices.

Costantino's voice booms with an authority that seems to reverberate off the walls as he stands his ground against my father. "Hold on, sir. Please don't talk to your daughter that way. Isadora is a beautiful, intelligent young woman who?—"

But my dad doesn’t appear to care about the rest of Costantino's sentence. He rounds on him with a glare that could cut glass. "Don't tell me about my daughter, boy. You got yours. You dipped your wick. Now get the hell out of my house. These are family affairs."

Costantino shifts his focus back to me, his expression hardening as he asks, "Isadora, what do you want me to pack?" I can see barely concealed rage flickering in his eyes, and his fists are clenched into tight little balls at his sides, trembling slightly with the effort of holding back.

I gesture toward my bathroom, my voice steady despite the chaos. "Everything in there that isn't nailed down."

Without hesitation, Costantino grabs an empty box and strides toward the bathroom, determination etched on his features. All of us can hear him muttering under his breath, his frustration palpable, though the words remain just out of reach, lost in the tension. "If you don't mind, my moving guy and I have a lot of work to do."

My dad's glare shifts to the open bathroom door, his voice dripping with menace. "You'll be back. If you show up pregnant with that bastard kid of his, I swear I'll kill him."

My parents retreat, but their discontent lingers in the air like an unshakable tension. I slam the bedroom door behind them, a loud thud echoing in the silence, and turn my attention to Costantino. "Hey. Are you okay?” My concern surprises even me; I’m not one to often ponder the feelings of men, but something about him brings out a more sensitive side that I didn’t know existed.

Costantino’s face is contorted into a mask of fury, the lines of his jaw tight with suppressed emotion. He’s methodically placing everything within arm's reach into the box, but I can see the struggle beneath the surface, the way he’s holding himself back from hurling the items out of sheer anger. "I've never killed a man, Isadora, but I thought about killing your father. I thought about snapping his neck because of the way he talked to you. I'm glad you're leaving, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t have to come back."

My heart skips a beat at his fierce declaration. No one has ever stood up for me like this or shown such genuine concern for my well-being. Tentatively, I admit, "I need a place to stay." It isn’t a test, not really; it’s a plea wrapped in vulnerability.

"Norman and I can set up the guest bedroom for you,” Costantino replies matter-of-factly, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling around us. “It's yours as long as you need it." He can barely tear his eyes away from the bathroom sink, as if it holds some untold significance. His knuckles are white, the skin stretched tight over the bone, a sign of his barely contained rage.

"I also need a job. My parents are cutting me off, so I need a way to make money." The words hang in the air between us, a stark reminder of my precarious situation. Pride comes before the fall, but desperation is a powerful motivator, and I can feel it pushing me forward.

Costantino releases his grip on the sink and stands up straight, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he turns to face me. Though the remnants of rage still flicker across his face, I notice how his eyes soften, revealing a depth of emotion beneath the storm. "Isadora, short of giving you a kidney, whatever you need, I will give you. My father is always looking for employees. Norman and I won’t intrude if you don’t want us to. You need a car? We’ll find you one. You need to rob a bank? We’ll figure it out together. I care about you, and I want to help you, no matter what it takes. I was serious about that.”

I’m not the type to wear my heart on my sleeve; I’ve never been one for emotional displays. It's easier to just bottle everything up until I’m alone in my car in an empty parking lot, where no one can see the cracks in my facade. But Costantino dismantles my defenses in less than sixty seconds, effortlessly breaking through the walls I’ve carefully built. "You’re more than a girl like me deserves," I attempt to joke, hoping to regain some semblance of control over my swirling emotions.

"A girl like you deserves anything and everything her heart desires," he counters with a sincerity that catches me off guard. "Now get to packing. I need to walk Norman soon, and we should get you moved in before the sun sets."

The thought of him dismissing me because he can see the tears welling up in my eyes is almost unbearable, yet part of me would be forever grateful for the escape. I draw away from the bathroom, hastily wiping away the tears that manage to escape my control. "You know," I call back to him, trying to lighten the mood, "I've never had a dog before." I hear him chuckle softly, and a part of me thinks, I could get used to that sound.

“Norman is ten now, so he’s getting up there in age, but he’s got a puppy’s spirit,” Costantino replies from the bathroom, his voice warm and inviting.

My parents didn’t believe in having pets; they thought dogs and cats were messy, an inconvenience that detracted from a perfectly curated life. That’s yet another point in favor of Costantino Bianchi, who seems to understand the importance of companionship in a way they never could.