Archie
I knew without a doubt that I would die at the hands of a Cavalho. Because when they found out I’d touched their little angel, there’d be hell to pay.
The thought should have stopped me.
It should have been enough—Raze’s temper, Gianni’s bullets still echoing in my bones, the memory of Atlas’s quiet, calculating stare. The Cavalho men would not forgive my transgressions. Which is exactly how they would view my hands on Tone’s body.
And yet… I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
Because Antonella Cavalho stood in front of me like an offering, her breath uneven, her eyes locked on mine like she was daring me to ruin us both.
And God help me, I couldn’t deny that I’d wanted this from the moment I met her. I’d more than wanted her.
It had started on a blood-soaked ground, my knees shattered, my body failing, my vision blurring at the edges.
I’d been halfway to death when she’d come into view—sharp, furious, unafraid.
While the rest of the Cavalho family circled like wolves deciding whether to finish the job, she’d dropped beside me without hesitation and started to repair me.
Her hands had been steady. Warm and certain as she’d pressed into wounds that should have made me black out, her voice cutting through the haze, dragging me back when it would’ve been easier to just let go.
I’d felt it then. Even through the pain. That she would be the thing that undid me.
It had been a spark back then. A flicker. Something I could ignore, bury under the weight of what was happening. But every time I saw her after that… the fixation intensified.
Every glance. Every argument and rebellion as she threw her attitude at me. The spark grew to something more. Something dangerous and all consuming. An itch that sat under my skin and refused to be ignored.
And now—now she stood before me, all I’d ever wanted and more.
Her fingers curled into my shirt like she couldn’t bring herself to let go, her body pressed against mine, her breath hot against my mouth. There was nothing hesitant about her, nothing unsure.
She gave me her warmth—her intent unmistakable. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. Whatever fragile line we’d been circling, we’d already stepped over it.
I broke the kiss first, but only because I needed to look at her, to confirm this is what she truly wanted.
Her lips were parted slightly, her chest rising too fast, her eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. There was no hesitation in them, only fire.
“This is where you tell me to stop,” I said, my voice low.
It was the last chance I was giving either of us to stop.
“Why would I do that?”
That was all it took for me to be all in.
My hand slid from her neck to her waist, pulling her fully into me, feeling the way she fit—too well, too easily, like this moment had been waiting for us all this time.
“Someday, you’re going to regret this,” I murmured against her mouth.
Her lips brushed mine again, slower this time. Delicate.
“Not likely,” she replied.
Whatever control I’d been holding onto dissolved completely.
I kissed her again, deeper now, rougher, a claiming kiss that didn’t ask permission. She met me with the same intensity, the same hunger, our explosion inevitable.
My hands moved—over her back, her sides, memorizing the shape of her like I’d been denied it for too long. Every touch felt like something rewiring inside me, something dangerous settling into place.
Her hands moved faster than mine, desperate for me. Like she’d long ago decided I belonged to her.
I didn’t fight it. Wouldn’t even know how to if I tried.
“Where?” I asked, pulling back just enough to drag in a breath.
Her eyes flicked toward the hallway, then back to me.
“My room. That way.”
My hands slid beneath her, lifting her easily, her body instinctively wrapping around mine like she’d done it a thousand times before. Her breath hitched softly as I adjusted my grip.
“Guide me,” I said against her throat, my voice rough.
She nodded, her hand lifting to point, but it didn’t stay there long. It slid back into my hair instead, tugging just enough to make my jaw tighten.
Left.
Down the hall.
Second door.
Every step felt like it echoed too loud, like the house itself was watching, waiting to see how this would end. But I didn’t slow down.
By the time I pushed her door open, there was no going back. We’d crossed that invisible line into the point of no return.
I set her down just inside, but my hands didn’t leave her.
She looked up at me, her chest rising, her eyes searching mine.
My mouth found hers, slower this time, but no less consuming. There was something different in it now—something deeper. Less about the collision, more about the inevitability of it.
Like we both knew, with everything in us, that this wasn’t just a moment. It was a shift. A reckoning.
My hands framed her face, holding her there as I kissed her, starving for it. For her.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, beneath the heat and the pull and the way she fit against me like she’d always belonged there—I knew exactly what this would cost me. And I didn’t care enough to stop.
I knew it would end badly. I knew it would probably end in blood.
But as her hands slid over me, as her breath broke against my mouth, as everything in me finally stopped fighting what I’d felt since the moment she knelt in my blood and chose to help me—I didn’t care.
Not tonight. Tonight, I let myself have her. And whatever came after… I’d deal with it when the time came.
I eased her down onto the bed, then remained standing beside it, my gaze fixed on her. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, like anticipation was its own kind of hunger.
I leaned down, my mouth finding the pulse at her throat, my teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. She tasted sweet and pliant. Her fingers tangled in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp.
I gripped the fabric of her blouse and yanked, the sound of tearing silk filling the room. Tone gasped, arching up off the bed, her hands still buried in my hair, and when I bit down just hard enough to make her whimper, her legs fell open.
“Fuck,” she hissed, her eyes dark, her lips wet where she’d bitten them.
I didn’t waste time. My hands went to her jeans, working the buttons deftly, before I rolled the fabric down her thighs and past her long, toned legs.
My hand slid between her thighs, my fingers finding her already wet.
The sound she made—somewhere between a moan and a curse—went straight to my cock, which was painfully hard, straining against my slacks.
I circled her clit, slow at first, then faster when her hips jerked up, seeking more.
“You’re soaked,” I growled against her skin, my voice rough. “How long have you been thinking about this, olenyonok? About me fucking you?”
Her answer was a broken sound, her back arching as I slipped two fingers inside her.
She was tight, hot, her walls clenching around me like she never wanted to let go.
I groaned, my thumb pressing down on her clit as I fucked her with my fingers, my other hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.
“Yes—fuck—yes,” she choked out, her nails digging into my shoulders as she begged me not to stop.
I didn’t, simply because I couldn’t. Not when she was writhing under me, her body trembling, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.
I added a third finger, stretching her, preparing her, and when her muscles locked up, her orgasm crashing over her, I didn’t let up.
I kept going, drawing it out, making her ride my hand until she was boneless, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat.
Only then did I pull my fingers free, bringing them to my mouth. Her taste exploded on my tongue—rich, musky, uniquely hers—and I groaned, my cock throbbing in response.
Tone watched me through heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted, her body still trembling from the aftershocks.
“You’re still dressed,” she slurred, her voice thick.
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I stripped fast, my jacket hitting the floor first, then my shirt, the buttons popping in my haste.
My belt came next, the leather hissing as I pulled it free, followed by my slacks and boxers.
My cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the tip oozing precum.
Tone’s gaze locked onto it, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
“Condom,” she managed, her voice rough.
I didn’t move. Instead, I gripped myself, stroking slow, my eyes never leaving hers. “You sure you want that?” I asked, my voice dark. There was nothing I would’ve liked more than seeing Antonella Cavalho’s belly swollen with my offspring. “You sure you want anything between us, Tone?”
Her breath hitched. For a second, I thought she might push me away. I thought she might just remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea. But then she reached for me, her fingers wrapping around my wrist, pulling me down.
“Fuck the condom,” she whispered against my mouth. “Fuck everything.”
That was all the permission I needed.
I surged forward, my body covering hers, my cock sliding against her wetness. She was still sensitive, her body twitching with every brush of my tip against her clit. I could feel her pulse against me, her breath hot against my neck.
I pushed inside her in one fluid movement, burying myself to the hilt. The sensation of her heat and tightness wrapping around me was overwhelming. Her body gripped me like she was made for me. Tone cried out, raking her nails down my back, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my forehead pressing against hers. “You feel—Christ, Tone—”
She didn’t let me finish. Her hips rolled up, meeting my thrusts, her body moving with mine like we’d done this a thousand times before. The bed creaked under us, the headboard knocking against the wall in a rhythm that was anything but quiet.
I gripped her hip, my fingers digging into the soft flesh as I drove into her, each thrust harder than the last. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with her breathless moans, the way she chanted my name like a prayer.
“More,” she demanded, her voice raw. “Harder, Archie—fuck me—”
I obeyed.
The bed shifted with the force of my thrusts, the sheets tangling around our legs.
Tone’s body was a masterpiece under me—her skin glistening, her breasts bouncing with every snap of my hips, her nails leaving red marks down my back.
I could feel her tightening around me, her muscles fluttering, her breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.
“Come for me,” I growled, my voice a dark command. “Come on my cock, Antonella. Let me feel you.”
It was all she needed. Her back arched, her body locking up as her orgasm hit her, her walls clenching around me so tight it was almost painful. I groaned, my own release barreling down on me, my balls drawing up, my cock throbbing.
“Tone—fuck—”
I came with a broken sound, my hips stuttering as I spilled inside her, my body shuddering with the force of it. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, my vision whiting out for a second before I collapsed on top of her, my breath ragged, my heart pounding like a war drum.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing, the way our skin stuck together with sweat, the scent of sex hanging thick in the air.
Then Tone’s fingers carded through my hair, her voice soft. “We’re so fucked.”
I laughed, the sound dark, humorless. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, her skin still warm under my lips.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “We are.”