His Vicious Desire

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

B ianca

I’m not sure why my stomach is twisting violently at the idea of Gaetano married.

“I was. She’s dead.”

The words are stark, without any hint of emotion. I’m going to hell for being relieved by his words. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry…” I don’t know what to say, especially when I’m not really sorry.

“Don’t be. I’m not.” A shoulder goes up, still not a hint of emotion on his harshly beautiful face. “I’m glad she’s dead. Don’t cry for me or her. Neither one of us deserves it.”

My mouth falls open, but no words will come out. That’s where he’s wrong. This man deserves more tears than I have inside my body. His mom tried to commit suicide on his birthday, then actually succeeded when he was still a kid. Twelve years after his parents met, so he had to be younger than twelve. Then his wife died. Whether he liked her or not, it’s a whole fucking lot to go through.

Gaetano hasn’t had an easy life. It was so bad he didn’t even want to talk about it with his own brother. A lot of people have a hard life and don’t deserve tears. I know he does because it was so bad he hides from it by escaping into books—the same way I do.

I don’t dare say any of that, though.

He slows on an old movie I loved and haven’t watched in years. It’s a humorous take on the action movies of the 90s, set in a sleepy town in England.

“This, please. I love this movie. It’s so funny.”

An eyebrow goes up. “Huh.”

Rolling my eyes, “I also like some Disney movies. I prefer to laugh rather than cry, and some of those damn Disney movies make you cry. And those romances always have them breaking up and then getting back together. How the fuck is that romantic? That’s another thing I don’t like about romances: the breakup. If you genuinely love someone, you don’t break up. You stay, and you figure shit out.”

He does that thing where he pushes air out that might be a laugh.

I shake my head, and the world spins. “Woah.”

An eyebrow is up. “It’s the gummy. I was wondering when it was going to hit you.”

Oh wow. I feel like I’m floating. “I like this. This feels better than…”

I’m not sure why I try to stand when the world keeps tilting to the right. Suddenly, I’m caught in Gaetano’s arms. He picks me up and walks me to his room. Hm, even with the gummy and floating out of this world, there’s still that electricity running through my whole body.

“Sorry, I should have warned you. My tolerance is pretty high. I wanted to knock you out—in case you didn’t behave, and I needed to get Sandro involved.”

I pout. “You’re mean.”

“Yep.” Is all he says as he sets me down on the bed. He’s unlacing my Keds, and as one large hand holds my ankle gently in his large hand, he slips it off far more slowly than I would. I wonder why he’s going so slow, and my eyes go from his hands to his beautiful face.

“You’re also really hot. Are all hot men assholes? Like, I’ve heard all super hot chicks are a little crazy. Is it because you know you can get away with it because you’re so hot?” I wonder aloud.

He stands and sighs. “Angel, I really hope you don’t remember any of this—for the both of us.”

“Hmm…I don’t think you are lucky enough for that.”

His laugh is bitter. “I sure the hell am not.”

He’s backing away from me. “Gaetano.”

Stopping, he sighs again. “What, angel?”

“Can you please hold me? I like the floaty feeling, but I’m afraid I’m going to float off the edge of the world into nothingness.” I hold out my hand to him. When he closes his eyes, I’m afraid he’ll tell me no. “Please, Gaetano. Just until I fall asleep. When you hold me, everything feels like it’s going to be okay, that you’ll keep me safe. Please don’t let me float away.”

With a groan, he nods. Happy he’s giving in, I attempt to move to the middle of the bed but the spinning has me clinging to the bed, certain I’m going to fall off it any second.

Suddenly, I’m back in the warm shelter of Gaetano’s arms with his hard body pressed up against me. My back is to him. No, I want to bury my face in his neck, to inhale him deeply into my lungs.

“No, angel. Don’t move.” The words are hard and sound funny. “No burying your face in my neck. This is how it has to be.”

“But you smell so good.” I blush as I realize I said it out loud. Oops.

“Yes, oops .” He mocks me. I can feel the words rumbling from his big chest against my back.

Giggling, I run my hand over the arm wrapped against my waist.

“For the love of god, go to sleep.” Is gritted out into the back of my neck.

“Hm,” I run a finger over his hand flat on my stomach. “Gaetano, do you think I’m sexy?”

“ Merda .” The curse word in Italian is against my neck. “You have two minutes to fall asleep. Two seconds more than that, and I’m out of here.”

I’m sad. “I knew you didn’t. That’s okay?—”

Those hands around my waist hold me tight as, oh my fucking god, he presses something that feels like steel into my ass and grinds against me. “Does that feel like I don’t think you’re sexy? You are a wet dream come true, Bianca. You are also too damn young for a dirty old man like me. There’s also the fact you are the little sister of my best friend and a man who would kill me if he ever found out you’re in my bed and in my arms. Sandro will kill me without hesitation or regret. You are the only good thing in his life, and he won’t allow someone as dirty and damaged as me to touch you and ruin you.”

The words are low, almost a whisper, yet he might as well have shouted them. Gaetano wanted me. I wondered if he felt the crazy electricity, and he did. But he also would never do anything about it because if he did, Sandro would kill him. And he’s right. Sandro and that promise he made to my mom all those years ago would never allow him to let Gaetano live.

“Why did you hate your wife?” I whisper the other question I desperately need the answer to.

“Mary thought want was love and told me she loved me one hundred times a day. She marked it off every time she said it, like some fucking science experiment. If she said it enough, maybe I would love her back. From the moment she saw me, she wanted me. I didn’t feel the same. She was too young, too immature, too clingy. It all made me resent her, and gradually, the resentment turned to hate.”

“That’s so sad. I can’t imagine a more hellish life. Poor Mary.”

The bitter laugh is harsh against my neck. “Not poor me. Thanks, angel.”

“Loving you is easy, Gaetano. You’re like something out of a magazine, all tall, dark, and gorgeous. Then add in rich, and it would be hard not to love you. But you’re also like a Greek statue, hard without any softness to you. She pounded her heart against rock, hoping you would come to love her. I touched myself for weeks after my birthday to the memory of you carrying me up to my room. So, yeah, poor Mary.” I sigh as my eyes slide closed.

Okay, I knew it. With Gaetano’s arms around me, the dark doesn’t feel so scary. There’s no fear I’m going to float away. He’ll keep me safe and tethered to the ground.

Gaetano

The moment she slips into sleep, I feel the change in her and allow the moan I’ve kept trapped inside out. This is the stupidest thing I’ve done in my life, and I’ve done a lot of stupid shit. I’m now trapped in this house with her until she’s clean.

There is no telling Sandro about any of this without him killing me. The Rubicon was crossed the moment I got into bed with her instead of calling Sandro and telling him what was going on.

With a little moan, she snuggles into me. My arms tighten around her, and my cock is screaming to be inside her. This is heaven and hell all at once on a level I never thought was possible. Carrying her up to the suite the night of her party was one thing. With Joanna only feet away, I hadn’t dared to let the effect she had on me show. There was no savoring the moment, allowing all of my senses to drink her in. Now…fucking hell.

There is no one here to see, not even her. Giving her a twenty-milligram gummy when she’s never had one before could have blown up in my face. What if she was one of those not-so-rare bad reactions, and it kicked anxiety into a hyper state? Hell, she could have been allergic. I should have started lower and gone up gradually, like she was anyone trying edibles for the first time.

All logic fled me when I saw how her pupils were dilated and the way she was scratching at her neck without any awareness of what she was doing. The tremor in her voice when she said she felt like she was coming out of her skin stressed me the fuck out. Seeing her in that much distress messed with my head. I knew the gummy would be fighting with the anxiety and stress of her withdrawal, and decided to take the chance and have it knock her out.

I was beginning to wonder when it was going to hit her. The reason I rushed her in the dorm was because I didn’t want her floating or hitting the floor without me.

I’m going to pray for the first time in twenty years that she doesn’t remember any of this. The gummy is going to send her into orbit, and she will sleep like she’s dead for at least half a day. Once she wakes up, she won’t remember shit. It’s the only reason I answered her honestly by grinding my hard-as-a-rock cock into her. Then she made my cock begin to leak by liking it instead of pushing me away the way she should.

This is wrong, so fucking wrong… Except this is the only time I will have with her.

In one swift movement, I have her on her back. The long, black skirt she’s wearing comes off with a tug. There is a line of dampness showing along the white cotton panties she’s wearing, allowing me to see the outline of her pussy lips. She was wet from me holding her. Was it before or after I ground my cock into her ass?

Now that I see her body’s reaction to me, I don’t hesitate. Curling my fingers around the waistband of her panties, I draw them slowly down her long, soft as-silk legs.

Pulling my phone out is wrong, even more than all of this but I’m already sentenced to the depths of hell for what I’m doing. The flash is on auto and doesn’t go off with the first picture. I set it to on and take another. This one is better with the flash. I take two pictures as I widen her legs.

The sight of her has my mouth watering. Her lips are bare, but her mons is covered in thick black curls—the perfect way for a woman to be, as far as I’m concerned. Bare would be a reminder of her age and what a dirty, depraved bastard I am for what I’m doing.

I fall on her like a fiend, needing to taste her. Delicious . Tart, yet sweet—like a strawberry not quite ripe. I lick every inch I can reach and hate that there is no new juice no matter how hard I work to make her come. Damn it, this is what I get for doing this while she is so deep in sleep that her body doesn’t recognize what is happening to her.

Frustrated, I give up the taste of her sweet pussy and move up her body. Sliding her shirt up, I find a white bra with lace between the cups and along the edges covering her. The cups are thick, and the weight she’s lost is visible in how the cups are bigger than they should be to properly support her tits.

Anger fires through me all over again at the thought of her taking the speed to lose weight. I want to find the woman who said that shit and kill her slowly.

Yes, her body is soft and curvy. And it’s the way I’ve always wanted my women to be. I’m pretty sure it was a direct rebellion against my petite, painfully thin mother. Growing up, I worried she wasn’t healthy. She wasn’t, except it was a mental thing, not a physical thing.

It wasn’t Mary’s fault she was my mother in almost every way except blonde with blue eyes. Mary never made my cock hard. We fucked, and that’s all it was—it was a relief, not lovemaking, barely even sex. My visits to the brothel were the only time I actually enjoyed myself during my marriage. Every time I went, Mary had a way of finding out and freaked out on me—throwing shit and screaming until she was hoarse.

Running a hand over her round stomach, I blame the magazines and the bullshit social media for daring to say this isn’t sexy as fuck. A flick of my wrist and I open the bra at the catch between her breasts, and my cock jumps as it begins leaking all over again. Fuck. I find my pants are a mess from how badly my cock was leaking while I tasted her. I’m up off the bed and undressing in a rush to get back to her.

Cupping a round breast, I run my thumb over the delicate, dusky brown nipple. A knife twists my gut at the lack of reaction. Closing my eyes, I trail my hand up her chest to her neck, stopping at her mouth. A mouth I’ve been dreaming of for months. Lips that have pursed and smiled at me a dozen times in real life and even more in my dreams. These lips match the skin of her nipples.

It doesn’t matter that I know what will happen—or won’t happen. I can’t stop myself from pressing my lips to hers. This is the only thing I will have from those dreams. I won’t ever taste her while she is cognizant, all I get in this life is right now, and it will have to last a lifetime.

The moment I dreamed of is empty, like eating without getting full. Tasting her mouth between lips I have to part, I close my eyes and pretend she’s kissing me back. She tastes of sunlight, bright and burning me. I pull away to look down at her. This girl will be the end of me. I feel it deep down in my bones. I can only hope it’s after she’s grown into the woman she promises to be: bright and bold as the sun just like the way she tastes. She will burn me alive as I’ve never known the sun—the darkness is where I was born and have lived. And it’s why this is all I’m allowed.

Men like me don’t get the girl in the end. Too many sins have turned our hands and souls black. Our touch is never welcomed by women when they know what we’ve done. It would be easier if they never asked questions to answers they don’t really want the truth to. But they always ask, and they can never hide their disdain and horror. So, before Bianca, I would have been lucky to wind up with a woman from the brothel when she’s decided she’s tired of doing what she’s doing and will settle for me because I’ve gone to her.

A bitter chuckle escapes—I sentenced myself to end up alone because no one else could compete with Bianca Leonetti. And I’m content with that. I never thought I would have this moment. So I will take it and hold it until my dying day.

I’m going to wring everything I can from now. I find my phone again, and like a bastard, I do what I wanted to the moment I saw her sweet pussy. Gripping my cock, I slide it along the slit of her lips and take a picture. It’s profane, but still, I take another picture as I edge the head of my cock between those lips. It’s only an inch, not even two. Yet, my eyes close as I fight not to shoot my load inside her.

My cock is screaming to finish in her. I have no idea what it is deep inside me that’s desperate to see it, to know I filled her pussy with my come. Something is gnawing at me, begging for it.

No . I come inside her, and asleep or not, she could wind up pregnant, and if that happens, we’re both dead. But my cock won’t stop, it needs relief. I pull out of her and stroke, once, twice, and come all over her gorgeous tits.

Yeah, I’m going to hell where I deserve to be. Because there is not an ounce of shame as I study her body—only satisfaction so deep it has me taking another picture.

Gaetano

I’m climbing the walls because Bianca has now been asleep for almost twenty hours.

Any minute she would wake up, turned into why the fuck hasn’t she woken up? I have checked her breathing more than a dozen times, starting around noon today. An hour ago, I broke down and called a connection to confirm as long as she’s breathing fine—no shallow or ragged breathing—leave her alone.

He called me an asshole for dosing someone that high if they’ve never done anything but reminded me that despite the warnings, THC is far from lethal, no matter how much someone takes. The only way it’s lethal is if the person taking it freaks out and does something dangerous. At the same time, anything that’s going to slow breathing could be dangerous, even if it was rare.

At first, I was grateful for her sleeping so late. I got to sleep the night with her, something I never dreamed would be possible…and fucking hell, it was better than any sexual experience in my entire life. Since I told Sandro I was sick, and on an emergency basis only until the flu I was dealing with allowed me to leave my place, I hadn’t set my alarm.

Sleep didn’t happen until too damn late. All I wanted to do was savor every moment Bianca was here in my home and in my bed. I’ve gone days without sleep, and if it meant I had more time with her—I fought sleep until it yanked me into its depths.

I expected to be up again around six or eight in the morning. Bianca’s internal clock always had her getting around eight to ten hours. Since she was out a little after seven last night, my calculations put her awake around that time.

So when I woke up and saw it was almost eleven o’clock, I was stunned at getting eight hours. Most days, I get four, maybe five hours of sleep. I’m also a restless sleeper, waking up with the sheets wrapped around me. Yet when I woke up this morning, I hadn’t moved from falling asleep on my side with Bianca wrapped around me.

Now, all I want to do is use every curse word I know for not taking my time to enjoy her when I woke up. I rolled out of bed the minute I could make myself, and then worked fast to put everything right and make it appear as though she slept alone in my bed.

The television is on, and I have my e-reader in my hand, but I can’t focus on anything. Then suddenly, Bianca is in front of me, her brown eyes flashing fire.

“You bastard. I hate your fucking guts, and I’m never going to forgive you for what you did to me.” She hisses at me.

Sonofabitch. Did she remember what I said…or fucking hell did she somehow know all the dirty shit I did while she slept?