Chapter 33 Allegra
ALLEGRA
"Let me go." I kick at his back, but his grip is too firm on my body. It's only when we get to my room that he drops me on the bed, turning to lock the door behind him.
Blood is all over his white shirt, spattered across his face and clinging to his knuckles. He lifts the back of his hand to his face, smearing it across his chin. He takes measured steps toward me, his features devoid of any emotion.
This side of Enzo scares me…
Straightening my dress, I get off the bed and attempt to get past him. I don't want to be anywhere near him when he's like this.
"What did I tell you?" His voice is low, unmistakable danger reverberating from it.
"Enzo, did you have too much to drink?" I try to defuse the situation, and as I get closer to him I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
More than anything, I can see that his eyes aren't the usual startling green I'd come to love but a tumultuous emerald color, his black pupils expanding and engulfing what's left of the irises.
He doesn't look fine. After the display in the ballroom, he isn't fine.
"What did I tell you, Allegra?" He grabs my wrist, bringing me flush against his chest.
I'd imbibed enough champagne to have it go to my head, but as I look into his eyes, danger radiating off him, my mind clears instantly.
"Let me go, Enzo. We can talk tomorrow." My words are soft, and I hope to reach that side of him that isn't completely gone.
"Anyone touches you and they cease to exist," he repeats the promise from before, his tone sharp but lazy, almost like a predator playing with its prey.
"What I didn't tell you…" he trails off, his bloodied hand traveling up my neck and to my face, smearing red on me, "is what I'd do to you if that ever happened."
He takes a step forward, and I'm forced to take a step back. A waltz of fear ensues as I look for an exit, but he doesn't give me one.
One hand wraps around my neck while the other removes a knife from his pocket.
My eyes widen in fear as I see him test the blade, softly moving it across my skin.
"I don't think I told you, wife," his tone is mocking as he looks down at me, cruelty stretched taut over his features, "but you look exceedingly beautiful tonight.
" The knife continues its ascent on my skin, moving past the barrier of my clothes, the cold edge of the blade digging slowly but steadily into my skin without breaking the surface.
I still, a shiver running down my back.
Who is this Enzo?
"Tell me," he drawls, tilting his head to the side to assess me—to study the terror on my face as he slides the blunt side of the blade over my skin.
"Who did you put this on for?" He nods toward my dress.
"What about this fucking mud you put on your face?
Who was it for?" His words are getting increasingly accented, a sign he's getting heated.
And that's the last thing I want—not with a blade at my throat.
"For myself. I did it all for myself." I raise my chin at him, wearing my newfound confidence with pride. Is it so much to ask for one day—just one day—to feel beautiful?
"Really?" There's a sinister amusement in his voice, but I'm the only one not in on the joke.
"Yes. That is correct."
"You mean to tell me you didn't go intending to fuck whoever? What was it that you said…" He frowns theatrically. "You were lonely." He pouts, mocking me once more. "You want me to believe you didn't intend to spread your legs for that man if I hadn't conveniently shown up?"
Bringing my hand up, I slap him hard across the face. His only response is a wry laugh before he's on me once more, his fingers like a tight cage around my neck.
"Where did he touch you? Be honest, wife, and we might finish this faster." The anger radiating off him is almost palpable, and though my limbs tremble in response, I try not to show my fear.
"Nowhere," I barely get the words out before his hand moves up, holding my jaw between two fingers and forcing me to look at him.
"It sure looked different from where I was standing," he comments, his features morphing again from anger to a more relaxed nonchalance.
"How badly do you want to get fucked?" His knife is back at work, this time cutting through my skin right above my collarbone. I don't wince, although I want to. I simply don't let my gaze waver from his.
Show no fear!
"I don't. But thank you for the offer," I answer back, trying to regain a modicum of control.
I feel a small trickle of blood flow down my skin. Enzo dips his head lower, and his tongue sneaks out to catch the droplets, suctioning the wound, searing it with a lick.
Shock is an understatement for what I feel, especially as he lifts his hand to my face, palm forward, and cuts a straight line through his skin. A rift appears as the skin breaks and blood immediately pours out.
His palm covers my mouth, the viscous liquid dribbling down my lips.
"Suck," he commands, and I just shake my head. "Suck," he says again, more forcefully, his hand pushing past the barrier of my lips. A few drops of blood make their way inside my mouth, but as he slides his hand down, I spit it right back in his face.
Serves you right, asshole!
He doesn't react as I expect him to. No, his tongue slips past his lips to lick the mix of blood and spit off his face, his expression challenging me to do more.
Then his hand slides down until it covers the cut he just made on me.
"You were mine the moment I pumped my blood into your body, little tigress. I gave you my life force, and in return, I tied you to me. That means no one, absolutely no one, touches you."
His palm moves in circular motions, rubbing his blood into my wound and mingling our fluids.
I can only stare in awe at him—at this madman before me.
"I thought I could let you go," he says, his voice barely audible as he seems to muse to himself. He digs the knife under the bodice of my dress, effectively cutting through the material.
"What?" My eyes widen as I see him hold me with one hand while cutting the clothes off my body with the other.
"You wanted to be fucked, little tigress. Congratulations, you'll finally get your wish."
With one last tug, he pulls the dress off me, ripping it completely. His hand is no longer on me, so I take advantage, backing away slowly.
But he's a predator on the prowl, and it soon becomes clear that no matter what I do, I won't be able to shake him off.
My knees hit the bed, and I fall onto my back.
He's on me at once, and his blade cuts into the last scrap of material covering my body.
Bare… I'm completely bared to him. At his mercy.
His eyes roam wildly over my body, lingering on the scar from the gunshot and then on the new cut he's given me himself. They go lower, over my breasts, my stomach, and my most private place.
Unnerved by his perusal, I tug the sheet off the bed to cover myself.
"You can run, but you can't hide," Enzo says, his expression emotionless. He makes quick work of his shirt and trousers, and in no time, he's just as naked as I am. His cock juts proudly between his legs, his erection massive.
My eyes widen at the realization.
I'm fucked. Literally.
I scramble back on the bed, but my efforts are in vain as he wraps his hands around my ankles, pulling me toward him.
He drapes his body over mine, skin to skin. His nose starts nuzzling at my flesh, traveling up and down my neck. I freeze, not knowing what to expect.
"Enzo, please don't. Not like this," I say, taking his face in my hands, hoping he'll see the entreaty in my eyes.
He doesn't seem to hear me as he parts my legs, settling against me.
And I feel him there—hot, pulsing, threatening, yet exciting.
God, I'm sick.
And he's just as sick as I am as he drives forward, sliding into me with one thrust. Eyes closed, my back arches, and a gasp escapes my lips.
My walls stretch and stretch, trying to accommodate his size, leaving a burning sensation behind.
My hands grasp at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
It hurts, yet it feels good.
He's lodged so deep inside me; I wish he'd never leave.
I feel his hot breath on my face, his face contorted in something akin to pain.
"Do you feel like a marauder now? Taking what's not yours to take?" I ask him, the words meant to condemn him, yet my body only wishes he'd move—fuck me so bad I'd hurt so good.
"No," he caresses my hair, a semblance of emotion in his eyes, "I feel like the only man who's ever going to be inside you. The only man who's ever going to know what it's like," he pauses, sliding all the way out of me before slamming back in, "to fuck your tight pussy."
Fingers on my ass, he brings me into him, his cock pushing deep inside me and eliciting an involuntary moan.
But the expression on his face, so smug and superior… I can't help myself as I bring my hand up and slap him, catching his lip with the ring on my finger—ironically, my wedding ring.
"I hate you," I grit my teeth, willing myself not to enjoy this but failing miserably as he strokes me all the way to my soul.
Lip bleeding, he doesn't stop his assault, thrusting in and out of me.
"I know you do, little tigress," he says before he lays siege to my lips, coaxing them open, feeding me his blood once more.
Maybe I should feel disgusted. Maybe.
But as I feel him gain speed, I wrap my legs around him, holding him tight against me and returning the kiss. Our tongues move wildly against each other. I breathe him in and let him breathe me in.
An exchange of souls.
Entangled limbs, rough, jerky movements, we're so wrapped in each other that nothing else matters—just him fucking me, his cock moving in and out of me, flesh slapping against flesh, my juices coating his shaft as he impales me all over again.
"More," I rasp out, his lips molded to my neck, sucking, licking. His fingers are playing with my nipples, tweaking and pinching them.
"Who's fucking you, little tigress?" he suddenly demands, stopping mid-thrust. My heels dig into his ass as I urge him on, already drunk on the sensation.
"You, only you."
"Good," he says before he takes one nipple in his mouth, his lips wrapping around the tight bud. I cry out, the combined sensations sending me into a spiral of bliss.
"Now tell me," an evil smile plays on his lips, one finger circling my clit. I'm so close… I can feel it. But then he suddenly stops. "Who do you belong to?" He holds himself still, waiting for my answer.
Asshole!
"Me," I reply, capturing his lips with mine, my muscles clenching around him.
"Little tigress," he groans, and his hands are once again stimulating that one spot.
I feel an intensity come crashing down on me, and eyes closed, I seek to ride it.
"Open your eyes." I flick them open to find him staring at me. My mouth forms an O, my pussy contracting around him, milking him.
His expression mirrors my own as I feel him filling me, shooting his seed inside me.
We gaze into each other's eyes, and for once there's no hate, no animosity.
It's just… us.