14. Noah #2
I pause because this all but confirms my suspicions. Del is a mafia heir. And he believes my father is the one who targeted all the mob wives and their children? Gio would never risk starting a war… At least, I don’t think he would.
My distracted thoughts allow Del to buck me off him. He flips me over onto my back, hard enough that the air leaves my lungs. Now he’s straddling me. He slides the knife out of his palm and tries to stab me, but I swat it out of his grip, and it goes flying across the hardwood floor.
His hands latch around my neck, and he presses both thumbs against my trachea. The pain and lack of air excite me, and I can’t help moaning.
The muscles in Del’s clenched jaw ripple, and he glances down at my breasts, noticing my hard nipples through the thin fabric of my tank.
“You love when I’m rough with you, don’t you?”
Okay. This is good. He’s getting turned on. Maybe that means he won’t kill me.
I nod at his question since I can’t speak.
“Do you want me to fuck you while I choke you?”
I nod again.
He leans down, his mouth grazing against mine. “I should kill you right now.”
I'm seconds from passing out before he lets go and stands.
I rub my neck, which is covered in blood from his stab wound, and savor the pain. It's going to be bruised tomorrow.
“I didn’t do anything, Del. We can figure this out.”
He looks at me with a mixture of disgust and lust. He wants to fuck me, but he also wants me dead.
“Your father is a monster. You’re the heir to the Empire. You’re just like him. Do you kill for them too, Colpa Sicario?”
“No! Never. I don’t want anything to do with my father!” I cry out. “Del, you know me. Even though we’ve only been neighbors for a couple of months, and we hate each other, I never lied about who I am—”
“Except your real name is Noemi Lenetti!”
I’m taken aback as if he’d lashed out with a slap to the face.
“No,” I begin, my voice shaking, and my heart thundering in my chest. “I’m not that person anymore.
Noemi Lenetti died twenty years ago when my mother was murdered.
I’m Noah McAllister now. I work at a bar.
I’m horrible at cooking and singing, but I’m fantastic at sex and killing dirtbags.
And I fucking hate the Empire. I don’t want to take over, Delancy. I want to bring it fucking down.”
“You need to go.” Del's voice is low and dangerous. “Go, Noah, before I kill you.”
“No.”
He pulls a gun out of a hiding spot underneath the table next to where he stands, then storms me until the barrel digs into my forehead.
“Del, if he’s responsible, I didn’t know. Let me help you. Let me question him. I can find out for sure. I would never support him—”
He cocks the gun’s hammer. “Did you move next door to spy on me? To kill me?”
I shake my head. “No. I swear on my mother’s grave that I didn’t know who you were when I moved in. This is just... an odd coincidence.”
“I hate coincidences,” Del says, his voice shaken. “You have ten seconds or I’m pulling the trigger.”
“No. You won’t kill me, Puppet.” I’m not confident in that declaration, so I keep talking, distracting him. “My mother was murdered too. We can help each other.”
He studies my face for a painful minute, at least, before lowering the gun and grabbing my arm to drag me to the door. I dig my feet into the ground to try and stop him, and he responds by throwing me up against the wall. He leans in, his mouth hovering over mine.
“I fucking hate you,” he seethes.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t hate you, Del. I never have.”
We stare at each other, breathing hard and not saying a word for nearly a minute.
Then he kisses me.
It’s rough and not at all romantic. He bites my lip, making it bleed before shoving his tongue in and caressing my own in desperate lashings. His hands cup my face, coating my cheek with blood from his stab wound.
I fish his cock out from his sweats and wrap my fingers around the thick shaft. He groans into my mouth as I fist him up and down. I use his precum to lubricate the length, squeezing just enough to hear him moan.
He moves his hand to my nape and fists my hair, tugging my head back so he can kiss and bite along my jaw and down my neck. The bites aren’t gentle either. I'm positive bruises will be left behind and my pussy gets wetter thinking about seeing his marks every time I look in the mirror.
We enter a competition. Every rough bite is met with me squeezing his cock harder. I’m not even sure if it feels good for him, especially when he reacts by biting my shoulder and breaking the skin. I gasp at the sting, and he laughs proudly. The asshole.
He swings me around, so my back is flush with his front, then walks us to the chair in the living room. He folds me over the back, my ass in the air, and tugs down my leggings.
He takes handfuls of my ass cheeks and squeezes.
“Is this what you want? For me to fuck you?”
“Yes, Del, please. Call me your slut and ruin me.”
“I don’t have a condom.”
“I don’t care.”
He runs the thick head of his dick up and down my wet pussy and nudges the tip in, holding it there.
“Beg for me, Vixen.”
“Please, sir. Fuck me. Don’t be gentle.”
“Not good enough,” he says and slaps my ass so hard, the sound ricochets around the room. I savor the ache.
“Fuck my pussy, Delancy. I need your cock. I need you to choke me until I can’t breathe. Slap me, bruise me, use me.”
“Poetic,” he says and thrusts into me to the hilt.
“Oh, God.”
“Not. God,” he says and pistons into me at a damning pace. He wraps his hands around my neck for leverage, restricting my air and transforming it into pleasure.
“Play with your clit, slut,” Del growls, viciously pumping into me.
He’s hate fucking me, and I don’t fault him for it. I crave it.
My fingertips press onto my clit, and I rub it in circles. Del groans as my walls suction around him.
“Yes, Noah, that feels good.”
The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the quiet loft, our mingling moans adding to the chorus.
“Can I come, sir?” I beg, struggling to get the words out because he’s still choking me.
“No, not until I say so.”
“Please. Can’t. Hold. Much. Longer.”
He slips out of me, and I nearly gut punch him at the loss.
“Get on your knees and open your mouth. Play with yourself while I come down your throat.”
I don’t question him and drop down to the ground. I open my mouth and he grabs my hair at the nape to hold my head still. My fingers return to my clit and it’s so swollen, so worked up, that I'm orgasming seconds later. Del follows, giving himself a few more strokes until jets of cum hit my tongue.
When he’s finished, shaking out every single drop, he scoops up the cum that dribbled on my chin and shoves the finger in my mouth.
“Swallow, slut.”
I shouldn’t like him calling me slut, but I really am a slut for degradation. I swallow all his cum, like a good girl.
“Fuck, Noah. I haven’t come that hard in... well, ever.”
A smile spreads across my face, ear to ear.
He rolls his eyes. “So proud of yourself. Fine, we can talk. But that doesn’t mean I still won’t kill you.”
“You won’t kill me, Del,” I say, standing. “Because that was just a taste. A preview of how good sex with me can be.”
I kiss him, letting my tongue slip between his lips so he can taste himself.
When we part, I look down at my frontside. “I’m covered in blood and cum. I could really use a shower.”
I walk away, glancing over my shoulder to see if he’s going to follow. He doesn’t, but I didn’t think he would.
He just fucked the daughter of the man responsible for ordering his mother’s death. I really am lucky he didn’t kill me.
Sex might have just saved my life.