19. Portia
PORTIA
When I found out that Il Diavolo requested me in his private chambers, instant nerves fluttered in my stomach.
The last time he called me to his private room, he’d punished me. He left my ass tender and sore, streaked with red marks that symbolized my rebellion. Then he seemed to lose control as much as I had.
…we got caught up in the moment, the sex so good it’s been on my mind for days.
I arrive to his room a second time, delivered once again by Daniela. She’s dressed me in a silk robe and nothing else.
Il Diavolo’s personal request.
As I arrive to his room and the heavy door snaps shut behind me, I’m calmer than I thought I would be—at least on the outside .
The inside is a different story. My heart hammers against my ribs as the loud silence drags on between us.
Il Diavolo hasn’t made a move and neither have I.
Instead, we stand on opposite sides of the room and let the trickling rain speak for us.
The room itself has remained the same as the last time I was here, except for a few flickering candles placed throughout the room, adding to the moody atmosphere.
I look straight ahead, ignoring the massive four-poster bed that dominates the space.
The same bed where Il Diavolo had fucked me only a few nights ago.
“Is everything alright?” he asks finally, cocking his head to the side. “If I didn’t know any better, you're trembling.”
“I have no reason to tremble. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
He doesn't answer immediately, taking his time like he usually does. He steps toward me, gradually circling me like a predator sizing up his prey. His footsteps are silent on the plush area rug, but the heat he emanates is visceral.
It’s a thick wave that I feel the closer he lingers. I’m holding my breath before I know it, refusing to meet his eyes. I stare straight ahead as if he’s invisible.
The show of defiance, even as my pulse races, seems to intrigue him.
“Look at me, dolcezza.”
When I look up at him, I'm startled by what I see. His dark eyes burn with hunger so raw that I’m immediately transported to the other night. I’m instantly powerless to resist the way he makes me feel.
The extra beat of my heart. The blush that burns. Even the clench between my thighs…
“I've been thinking about you,” he says, stepping closer. Close enough that his cologne only adds to the trance he’s put me under. I can practically see the way it clings to his white shirt. All it makes me want to do is bury my face in his broad chest and inhale.
I draw a breath to calm myself and stammer out, “What about me?”
“You know what,” he answers. “About what happened between us.”
The blush on my cheeks burns hotter. “It was a mistake.”
“Was it? Your body didn’t seem to think so.” His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “You were trembling, dolcezza. Clawing at me. Squeezing my cock with your tight little pussy.”
I ease back to pull away as if his words have scalded me. Every rational part of my brain screams at me to fight. But his everything about him is like a drug.
He grabs me by the wrist before I can put enough distance between us.
“You're afraid of me," he says. “But not in the way you should be.”
We both know he’s right. I'm not afraid he'll hurt me, even after the spanking from the other night. I'm afraid of how he makes me feel, of the way my body responds to his touch despite everything my mind knows to be true.
I’ve fallen in love with Rafael. Il Diavolo is the man I fear.
All while the flirtation and desire becomes irresistible and impossible to refuse.
None of it makes sense the more I try to process it.
“You're not what I expected,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
“What did you expect?”
“Cruelty. Violence. The devil .”
“I can be all of those things, dolcezza,” he says. His thumb traces my lower lip, eliciting a shiver out of me. “Make no mistake, I am all of those things. But not with you. Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve realized that even the devil can’t fight temptation forever.”
Before I can process what that means, his mouth is on mine. The kiss is desperate and consuming, immediately stealing any air from my lungs. He kisses me like he's truly a mad man who’s lost his mind.
He’s the devil finally giving into fleshly human desire.
My hands find their way to his chest, fingers splaying against the warm cotton of his shirt. His heartbeat thunders against my palm, proof that this affects him as much as it does me.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls, nipping at my lips. Then he kisses me again, pouring even more passion into the kiss.
I should. I need to.
It’s what’s right. It’s what needs to happen.
But instead, I find myself breathing, “Don't. Keep… keep going.”
His composure shatters at that simple request. His hands squeeze my waist, pulling me flush against him as the kiss deepens even more and his tongue slips into my mouth. I’m barely able to keep up as his tongue flicks mine and sends a quake of lust through me.
I can feel his hard length pressing against my hip, evidence of just how much he wants this.
…how hungry he is for me.
He guides me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands are everywhere—threading through my hair, skimming down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He tugs at the ties holding my robe in place and pushes the silk coverup off my shoulders.
“So damn beautiful,” he breathes, capturing my lips again. Then he’s on my throat. Dropping kisses on my bare shoulders and chest.
He pauses long enough to drink me in for a brief second. His dark eyes slide over me, his breathing already ragged like he’s run a mile.
We come back together in another kiss. He pushes me down onto the bed without breaking contact, fingers unbuttoning his shirt. I help him with his pants, trading hot kisses and moans.
Il Diavolo wastes no time worshiping my body with his mouth and hands, finding every sensitive spot, every place that makes me gasp and arch beneath him.
I can only close my eyes and run my hands over his rippling muscles. He’s positioned me just how he wants, covering my body with his as he grinds his hips against mine and teases kisses everywhere.
My nipples go stiff at his touch. They ache as he sucks and teases them. Then rolls them between his fingers, making me beg for more.
“Diavolo,” I breathe. “Please don’t stop. Give me… mmm!”
“Yes?” he prompts, grinding his hips. His hard dick rubs against my throbbing pussy and creates the most torturous friction. “Tell me, dolcezza. Give you more of what?”
His fingers find my clit and he suckles at my breast. I arch against him, crying out how good it feels.
“More…” I whine. “More of you!”
Diavolo growls, gripping and stroking himself. He runs his dick along the seam of my pussy, the skin on skin contact like instant paradise.
“You want my big dick inside you. You want me to stretch you and make you come all over my dick,” he says, kissing the side of my throat. “Be careful what you ask for.”
When he enters me, another strangled scream tumbles out of me. The stretch is delicious, waves of pleasure washing over me at how good it feels to be joined again.
He's big and thick, filling me completely, stimulating the deepest parts of my pussy.
His thrusts start with a sense of deliberate control—long, deep strokes that have me gasping under him. My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as he sets a rhythm designed to drive me insane.
Each stroke sends hot pleasure radiating through me, building with every smooth thrust of his hips. My vision blurs as his cock sinks deep and it feels like I’m being split in the best way possible.
I grip his shoulders and rock my body with his, nails leaving crescent marks in his skin.
But I'm watching him too, studying the tense expressions that cross his face when he thinks I'm too lost to notice. The way his jaw clenches when I gasp his name. The flex of his muscles when he picks up the pace and pounds away like the animal he’s become.
His hoarse voice as he groans his pleasure and his dick throbs inside me.
His thrusts lose control, becoming more erratic and desperate.
“Fuck, dolcezza,” he pants, his voice strained. “You don’t know how bad I’ve got it. How fucking much I’ve wanted this.”
I answer him with my body, clamping down tighter on his dick and pulling him into a deep kiss.
Any last composure snaps. Our bodies tangled and mouths fused together, the passion between us explodes.
Each thrust comes deeper and harder than the last. He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head with one large hand while the other grips my hip, holding me exactly where he wants me as he takes me with raw, unleashed passion.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” he growls against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You’ve made the devil know what heaven feels like.”
He drives into me relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin competes with our loud cries and ragged breathing.
Il Diavolo’s so deep from this angle, hitting places inside me that make me see stars.
“Answer me,” he demands. He’s fucking me so good, I’m arching off the bed and screaming in pleasure. “Do you know how much I’ve fucking wanted you? I want you like he wants you—I’ve made you mine now and there’s no going back.”
“Yes!” I gasp out. “Yes… Diavolo… make me come!”
I’m flipped onto my stomach and then speared into from behind. He’s even deeper now, his cock sliding to the back of my pussy.
He sets a punishing pace as I fist the sheets and surrender to the pleasure.
Each thrust sends shockwaves through my entire body. The electric current tingles from my pussy all the way to my toes.
I bury my face and scream. I’m not even sure what I’m saying.
Just that I’m his. That his dick feels so good and I’m so damn close.
“Look at you,” he growls, one hand sliding up my damp spine to tangle in my hair. “Taking me so perfectly. You were made for this, weren't you, dolcezza? Your little pussy was made for my big cock.”