36. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Alessandrio
O livia fucking Dolmino will never not, even in her weakest moments, challenge me. The narrowing of her grey eyes is all I needed to see to know she’s angry. Good. So the fuck am I. It took my brother and four of our men to hold me back when Lorenzo returned and told us she had run. I almost killed them all, just for stopping me. It took Emilio putting a gun to my head and ordering me back into the car for me to clear some of the rage and fear from my overwhelmed mind. My brother has only ever once pulled rank like that on me, ceasing to be a brother and becoming a Don entirely. I pressed my forehead harder against the barrel, staring at him from the other end with nothing short of manic rage.
She ran. Ran from me. And everything that I am demands retribution. I thought of many ways I could make her pay and now, as I watch her turn on her heels and start to run, I know I made the right decision. Her legs, slim and toned, make my mouth water, her little grey booty shorts beneath my sweater just visible with each smooth step she takes disappears between the trees, a golden ponytail streaming behind her. She likes to run, and I like to hunt. It’s the perfect prelude. I roll my neck. The urge to give chase immediately is overwhelming, but I prowl along the length of the van like a lion in a cage, going against my nature by exercising some restraint. It will be all the more delicious hunting her amongst the trees, allowing her to think she has the upper hand.
When enough time has passed and my patience is worn, I head in the direction amongst the pines where she fled, wearing nothing but my sweatpants. I don’t need to run. I take my time checking the floor of the woods, seeing patterns of recent disturbance and following it at a leisurely pace. The wind picks up and I pause, sniffing the air and thank the Strega for my heightened senses. I can smell her on the breeze; I would know the scent of her arousal anywhere and it makes my feet move faster, anticipation making my body thrum. I follow that trail, breathing deeply in the scent of her and knowing she is just as turned on by this as me.
Further in, I find my sweatshirt on the path and pick it up, inhaling our mixed scents embedded in the fabric, before tossing it back to the earth and continuing on. With the fading of the sun, the woods have become more densely shadowed. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention and I watch a lone squirrel race up a tree, desperate for an escape. Raising my eyes back to my path, my breath leaves my chest, the corners of my mouth peel back over my teeth.
“Tired of running?” I ask, the words a husky growl.
“You haven’t caught me yet,” Olivia points out, that sassy full mouth quirking in a whisper of a knowing smile.
I take a step toward her, and she darts away, putting two trees between us. So this is how it’s going to be then? One of us is always challenging or taunting. I think her spirit is what draws me to her, how she refuses to cower from me.
“You know how I knew which way to go?” I call softly to her.
“How?”
“The sweet and alluring scent of your pretty cunt already weeping for me.” With my words, I launch myself forward on powerful legs.
She is no match for my speed or my agility. Her feet stumble over a root in her attempt to back away, and she sits down hard as I bear down on her. Using her surprise to my advantage, I reach down, grabbing her arms and toss her over my shoulder. My hand collides with her ass for good measure. That sweet scent I mentioned becomes stronger and more alluring with our proximity.
“This is mildly familiar,” I rasp, trailing my hand up the back of her bare legs as I follow the path back to my van.
“It’s apparently a good place to start,” she huffs, words stirring the fur on my back.
It takes no time to find my van and by the time I bring her back, her hands are caressing and exploring the muscles beneath my fur. The feel of them on me has me almost continuing on, just to keep them there—almost. I wrench open the back double doors before tossing her unceremoniously down onto the mattress. She gathers herself, rising to her knees, facing me, eyes sparking with their own fire. I grip the top lip of the van to steady myself, my shadow falling over her in the dying light.
“Were you trying to escape today?” My question stirs my banked anger.
She folds her arms over her chest, and my gaze slides to the swell of her breasts, appreciating the sight of them. There is a long pause and I lift my eyes back to hers.
“Well?” I snap.
“Well, what?” she snaps back. “You murdered a man in front of me. How did you expect me to react?”
I can see by her face that isn’t all of it, I know that there are other things, things that neither of us can handle talking about right now.
“You call me a monster, then get angry when I obey my nature. That is the way of this, the Mafia, of me. It’s all the same. Now,” I growl low. “Were you trying to escape?” I question again, leaning into the van.
I watch her narrowed eyes dart around my face. I enjoy crowding her, pressing into her, and watching her defy my nearness. As if to say, I am not afraid of you. Her fear is not what I want, I’ve realized. I want her defiance, her anger and her passion.
“I thought about it,” she finally replies, her breath caressing my lips. “I’ve spent my whole life feeling unsafe. Knew that something was just around the corner, that my life would never be free of conflict. With you, I feel safest.” She chuckles darkly. “That sounds ridiculous given all that you have done to me, and yet…” she trails and I find myself holding my breath. “I ache for you,” she finally finishes.
The breath leaves my body in a heavy huff, her vulnerability shattering me, leaving me feeling raw and unworthy. I have never been lost for words, but at this moment, I have no reply. So I do what I know, what I need, what I have longed for these past few days as I prepared to put her in more danger. I grasp her arm and spin her, forcing her to face the front. A sound of protest escapes her as I pull her back toward the lip of the van by her hips, her round ass commanding my attention. My hands slide over the curve of her hips, these tight bike shorts hugging her like a second skin.
“Remind me to buy you more in every color,” I murmur, tracing a claw down the seam of the shorts along her sex.
Her gasp is like music to my ears, and I trail my finger back up, following the curve until I meet the gap between her shorts and tank. With a teasing slowness, I peel them down, watching hungrily as each inch of her skin is revealed beneath. Her thong requires a slight tug to pry it from between her cheeks. It comes away with even more protest further down, snagging at her wet centre. She wiggles beneath my gaze, from self consciousness or from the cold caress of the outside air.
“I have been waiting days to taste you,” I murmur, bending to nip the soft flesh of her ass cheek.
“Alessandrio, please.” Her voice is a husky whimper as she moves again.
“‘Alessandrio, please’ what?” I taunt, mimicking her.
“I’ve been running. I’m all sweaty,” she gasps as I push her pants and thong down to her mid thigh.
“Are you passionate about running?”
There is a moment of hesitation and her head swivels as she attempts to look back at me.
“Yes?” she finally says, giving up the attempt and facing forward again.
“Then let me taste that passion.” I spread her wide, her sweet round ass with its tight centre. That trail of glory leading down to her pussy, sweet nectar already dripping. “You are glistening, and I bet it has nothing to do with sweating or running.”
As if to test my theory, I press a clawless finger to her entrance and watch it slide with ease to the hilt and her cry ricochets off metal and glass.
“As expected,” I growl with approval, withdrawing it to trace the line back up to her even tighter hole. She wiggles again, attempting to jump away from my touch. I use my knee to knock her thighs wider, keeping her spread before wrapping her golden ponytail around one monstrous hand.
“Be a good girl and hold still,” I snarl, dropping lower as my finger spreads her liquid heat around the perimeter of her asshole. Her gasps are loud and rough from the angle of her neck thanks to my punishing grip. “Tell me princess, did that little prick ever fuck your ass?” Again one of those clawless fingers tests my theories, her tight muscles clutching at the intrusion.
“Never,” she moans, the sound punctuated by a buck of her hips.
I snarl with approval, withdrawing my finger and replacing it with my tongue.
“Oh fuck.” Her voice is a low whimper.
She tastes heady and delicious. I circle those puckered muscles before sliding down the seam to her cunt and spear it with my tongue. She writhes and bucks. The only thing keeping her in place is the hand wrapped around her golden hair. I love the little sounds she makes as I trail my tongue back up to tease her unexplored hole, working one of my clawless fingers into her already pulsing pussy, another sliding further down her slick cleft to offer some friction against her throbbing clit.
She’s panting. “It’s so much.” Her breathy voice is all the encouragement I need as I spear both her holes with my tongue and finger.
It is not too much, it’s still not enough, it’s just the beginning. This is just a taster, a slow incline to the main event. Soon she is rocking into my touch, her moans louder and more frantic as her pussy sucks my finger deep. My cock throbs for attention. I circle her asshole a few more times, a taunting promise of one day stuffing it, before withdrawing completely and making her scream.
“Shhhh,” I croon, tugging that golden hair to force her head to the side. My need to see her face, to witness her outrage, has me leaning forward over her, and groaning when my length presses against her rounded ass. “Shhh,” I whisper, licking away the sweat sliding down her cheek.
“Alessandrio.” Her whisper is hoarse, husky with her need.
“Olivia.” Her eyes widen as her name caresses her flushed cheeks.
Releasing her ponytail, I plant that terrible hand beside her head to steady myself as I slip my pulsing cock free. It finds a home between her sweet cheeks, and I slide it up the length of that dripping cleft, her gaze burning into my own.
“Ahhh,” she cries out as my cock breaches the entrance to her pussy, eyes widening as I press into her, the angle of her hips making it shockingly deep, the head of my cock meeting resistance.
“You feel that?” I murmur, brushing furred knuckles over her sweaty cheek. “Feel how deep I am?”
I swallow her cry as it emerges with a thrust. Ravaging her mouth with my tongue, feeling her deep moans as I plunge in, deep and hard. I love the symphony our fucking makes, her wet pussy slurping along my length, her vocal cords rising and falling depending on my actions and the growls that build in my chest as I bury my cock in her. It doesn’t take me long to build a punishing pace. I rip my mouth from hers and splay my hand across her upper back, forcing her down into the mattress. I’m mesmerized by the contrast between my sharp, furred features and the creaminess of her skin. My thrusts lift her ass higher, punishing her body with every stroke and still that sweet defiance. I watch one hand disappearing beneath her, while the other claws at the mattress. I know when she starts to stroke herself, the walls of her tighten around me, the friction making my own ridges begin to expand and shift.
“Fuck me,” she rasps out between moans. “Please fuck me,” And I roar with approval at the neediness in her voice until she’s incoherent with her moans and my cock has decided it likes where it is enough to have found itself a forever home.