Chapter 13 #2
“This isn’t right,” I murmur as she draws her tongue along the length of me. “This isn’t what you need right now.”
She stops what she’s doing, and despite it being what I wanted, I almost roar with disappointment.
“It feels right to me,” she says, those big eyes serious.
“And you don’t get to decide what I need.
What I need is to forget what happened tonight.
I need to wash that memory away. I need you to stop pretending to be the gentleman we both know you’re not and fuck me.
It’s not like you don’t want to.” As she speaks, she pulls her soaking wet dress over her head and kneels before me wearing a skimpy bra that would give a saint an erection.
Fuck’s sake. I let out a growl and drag her upright so fast her head jerks back.
“You think this is a game, bella?” I snarl, tearing the bra from her while she recovers her balance. “You think you can play with me?”
“Yeah.” She meets my gaze, her pupils dilated. “I do. Now are you going to fuck me or what? Quick. Nasty. Hard.”
I can see the carotid artery pumping in her neck, hear the blood thundering through her veins, and smell the arousal seeping between her legs. She’s not lying. She wants this as much as I do.
Without warning, I spin her around so she’s facing the mirror, bend her over the sink, and drive into her tight pussy. It’s not an elegant fuck, but it is what we both need.
She gasps, and I quickly dismiss any concern that I’m hurting her. This is what she asked for, and this is what she’ll get.
I palm her tits, and she plants her hands on the vanity to steady herself. I squeeze one of her nipples so hard she squeals. Her wet hair rains water down on us both as I wrap it around my fist and pull, hard. Our eyes lock in the mirror, and I bury my shaft as deep inside her as it will go.
Her bouncing tits make my mouth water, the loud slap of flesh against flesh reverberating off the marble and porcelain.
God, she’s so wet, so tight. So fucking good.
The look on her face says she’s scared, turned on, and hurting in equal measure, and it makes me pound into her even harder.
I should slow down. Be careful. But I can’t stop.
I pull her head back farther, twisting it up by her hair, and place my other hand at her throat. And then I hold her there, trapped between my cock and the edge of the sink, contracting my fingers until she gasps for breath. Fuck. That sound is off-the-charts sexy.
Leaning down, I rest my lips at her neck, and my fangs respond in exactly the same way as my dick. Even as I graze her skin, I seek to control the animal instinct screaming at me to consume her blood. I could kill her if I don’t stay in command.
She lets out a little mewling sound, and her pussy walls quiver around me. “Are you sure, cara mia?” I whisper into her ear. “This isn’t like the movies. This isn’t Twilight. This is going to hurt—but I promise you will love every fucking second of it.”
She sticks her ass out as much as she can, grinds herself against me, and manages a nod. “I’m sure,” she whispers. “Do it!”
I see the truth of it in her eyes. My own shine silver, my big body overshadowing hers, my hips moving in a steady rhythm.
I run my tongue over the sweet spot on her neck, preparing her before I taste. My fangs sink into the soft flesh as they have thousands of times before with thousands of different people. Except this time, it’s Rosa.
Blood flows fast to the surface, flooding my mouth with a million sensations.
She tastes of lemons and spice and sex and need.
I grab both of her hips now, slamming into her as she cries out, as she screams, as she feels my bite and takes my cock and her orgasm rips through her all at the same time.
She clamps down around me, and her body trembles in waves against mine. I keep my mouth at her neck, not ready to stop. Not capable right now. I need more—more of her blood, more of her pussy. More of everything.
Her orgasm is still coursing through her, and she can’t take her hazy eyes off me. Off us.
Without losing eye contact, I empty myself into her so completely I shatter into pieces. She takes it all and smiles at me as she’s nailed to the sink, her feet leaving the floor. Fuck. I come so hard I practically see stars.
I seal the wound on her neck with my saliva, licking up the few stray drops that have spilled crimson on the ivory of her skin. My head lolls against hers for a moment while I recover before I pull out.
She immediately collapses, and I barely catch her before she hits the floor. Shit. Have I gone too far? Already tonight she was drugged and traumatized. Then she got fucked by a vampire who drank her blood. Definitely too much.
She bursts out laughing as I pull her upright, and it’s the sweetest music I have ever heard.
“I think you almost fucked me to death.” She grins up at me.
Her hand goes to her neck and comes away spotted with blood.
She holds her fingers up to my mouth, and I lick them clean. Fuck, she’s still delicious.
“So,” she says, swaying against me, bloody and naked and unashamed. “That’s you fed, but I’m still starving.”
I curse myself for neglecting her. Vecchissime might be more than human, but she still needs to eat. Her legs wobble, and I ask, “Can you walk?”
“I can,” she replies, her head tilted to one side. “But I’d prefer to be carried. Take me to bed and order me a cheeseburger.”
“Are you always this bossy after you’ve been nearly fucked to death?”
“I don’t really know.” She shrugs. “That’s the first time it’s ever happened.”
Silently vowing that it won’t be the last, I swing her into my arms and carry her into the bedroom. Just to let her know who’s in charge, I throw her onto the bed none too gently.
By the time I return from ordering her meal, she’s snuggled under the sheets with only her head visible. Her face is paler than normal, and I grab a water from the fridge. Thankfully, I don’t have to explain how important it is to rehydrate. She simply takes the bottle from me and drinks.
“So,” she says, patting the bed next to her. “That was interesting. I think I was on some kind of wild adrenaline high after everything else. It’s entirely possible that I lost my judgment a little there.”
I climb in next to her, and she immediately winds herself around me like a kitten.
Settling her head onto my chest, she strokes my tattoo with her fingertips.
“Perhaps. But do you regret it?” I try not to tense as I say those words—try not to show that I care.
Even more, I try to tell myself that I don’t care.
“Shit, no. Sure, it’s messy and complicated and none of this should work … But you came through for me tonight in a way nobody ever has before. And I’m not only talking about the spectacular sex. You saved me from them, Luca. Saved me from my own damn family.”
I haven’t known Rosa Capelli for long, but I already recognize the blend of sorrow and anger in her voice as her signature blend. Due to basically being raised by wolves, I never expected to be loved or nurtured. My childhood was endured in a world of monsters, and that is all I ever knew.
Her childhood should have been different.
She had a family: siblings, parents, a grandfather.
A whole community. She should have been cherished and adored and protected.
Instead, she was abused and exploited. Not all monsters come with fangs.
I noticed the faint lines on her backside, invisible to human eyes, and it didn’t take a giant leap of imagination to figure out how she got those scars.
When I’m back in New York, after I sort this whole mess, I will ask Vincenzo’s permission to take Tomasso out. And if he doesn’t grant me that permission … Well, I’ll fucking do it anyway.
“They’re not a family,” I say, running strands of her hair through my fingers. “They’re pond scum. You’ll never see them again.”
She tenses slightly in my arms, and I prepare myself for a “you don’t own me; you’re not the boss of me” speech.
Instead, she simply sighs and relaxes again.
“Maybe not. I don’t know yet. The last few days have been out of control.
I was already worn out because of the constant Calls this month, then London, then you, then Pietro … and Paola. Did you hear about Paola?”
“The Bianchi malocchio?”
“Yes. She’s been injured. Gravely. She was on a Call in Cairo, and …
Well, nobody really knows what happened, but she’s in a coma.
And Donatella—yes, Agostini before you ask—says she’s also been getting far more action than usual.
It feels like … I want to say it feels like a campaign against us, but that sounds too dramatic. ”
She frowns up at me, and I kiss her nose.
“I don’t think it’s too dramatic; I think you’re right.
Vincenzo—my Don—said as much before I was sent to London to find you.
He’s a hard one to figure, but beneath his fifty shades of fucked up, he usually has an endgame in mind.
From what I’ve heard, it’s some kind of concerted power play. ”
“With this Kurt dude? The one you told me about?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Could be that simple—one of those dickbrain newbies who never got over the fact that his hair won’t grow and wants to screw over the world. But it’s possible he’s working for someone else. At this point, I think there’s more going on here than we understand.”
I climb out of bed while she thinks, and by the time the knock on the door comes, I’m there. Her eyes light up when I return with the dinner tray, and she sits completely naked and totally uninhibited while she stuffs her face and makes appreciative little humming noises.
“I’m getting jealous of those fries.” I grin at her. “I think they’re going to make you come any minute now.”
She shoots me a look that is pure devilment. “Well, I can’t deny they’re good. But nowhere near as delicious as your cock.”