26
Enzo
T he bedroom reeked of sex and blood. Amara was a wet, sticky mess of blood and slick, slumped, and exhausted. She winced, clearly aching from our raw passion and still dazed.
I reached for my pants, digging my cell phone out. The screen cracked when Mark kicked me, but it still worked. I called my henchmen, who were always ready to help out the Ricci family.
“Boss?” one replied.
“13 Amos Drive, Lockwood,” I informed. “Total cleanup. How long until the crew’s here?”
“It’s a ten-minute drive, Mr. Ricci,” the man stated. “I can get them in the cleaner van and head to you right away.”
“You do that, and bring me some clothes and the morning-after pill,” I ordered, hanging up as I turned to my pen pal.
Amara’s eyelids fluttered, fighting the sleep that begged to drag her under. I bent, scooping her up in my arms, carrying her to her bathroom. The fucking door was missing, but my men wouldn’t come in here without my permission.
I set her on her feet, turning the shower on as she leaned into me, unable to hold her whole weight in her current state.
I brushed my fingers over her bruises, cuts, and bloodstains. “All mine,” I murmured possessively, eager to worship her.
I tested the water, and when it was hot enough, I dragged her inside the stall, shutting the door behind us. The water cascaded over us, soothing my sore muscles and washing away the evidence that Mark ever existed.
I took a washcloth and lathered it with soap, kneeling before my little pen pal. I slowly ran the cloth over her feet, working my way up, gently cleaning away any evidence of tonight. My hands ghosted over her curves, and I kissed every bruise, cut, and scrape.
She shuddered, but it wasn’t from fear. I knew it was from something deeper; my claim, my obsession, and my care. Her eyes softened as she watched me, rivers of blood snaking down the drain as I washed her hair.
“No one else will ever touch you again,” I vowed.
I heard multiple footsteps rush up the stairs, and I knew my men had arrived. One of them gasped and cursed, and I chuckled. Most of the men were used to my antics, so one of them must be new.
“Boss?” someone called out.
“You can start,” I answered, and Amara went stiff, her eyes peering up at me.
“They’re with me,” I soothed, squeezing the shampoo from her hair and rinsing it.
She nodded, her eyes closing as I finished washing her. I quickly wiped myself down, scrubbing the blood from my body before I shut off the water.
I took two towels, wrapping one low on my hips before I wrapped Amara in the other. I dried her off carefully and deliberately, and someone threw clothes inside the bathroom. I picked them up and donned them, then took Amara in my arms again.
I strode back into the bedroom, ignoring the cleanup crew as I placed Amara in her bed. I peeled the covers back and put them on her, brushing her damp hair away from her face as I tucked her in. I crawled in with her, my arms wrapping around her as she sighed, her breathing slowing and evening.
“Boss?” a man asked.
“What?” I snapped, glaring at the man over my shoulder.
“There was a woman in the garage; she was shot. What do we do with her?” he asked, and he handed me a package that was the morning-after pill.
“Marta,” Amara exclaimed. “My boss. Is she alive?”
“Bring her to one of our doctors,” I ordered, removing the single dose from the package. “Make sure she makes it.”
The man nodded and left, entering the hallway where Alessandro carried Marta, nodding to me before he carried her down the stairs.
I turned to Amara, gently opening her mouth and putting the pill on her tongue. “Swallow, it’s to make sure you didn’t get pregnant tonight.”
She swallowed obediently, not wanting any chance of carrying Mark’s child. If she was already pregnant with my child, it wouldn’t do anything to our baby. Amara closed her eyes, her head resting on her pillow as her breaths deepened and evened .
My men moved with quiet efficiency, and by the time they were done, the place looked like nothing happened.
Days bled into nights. My men watched over Marta as she recovered, my stupid brother taken with her.
I took regular meals to Amara as she rested, and we spoke in hushed tones as we ate together. Her body was still tender but healing, and I had my doctor come to examine her and fix her up.
Each night, I pulled her into her bed, our intimacy shifting from slow, possessive touches to raw, consuming passion.
But my favorite night since then was when she was sleeping.
She was whimpering in her sleep, her thighs rubbing together like she was having a dirty dream. I smirked, lifting her nightgown to expose her ass. I didn’t bother with clothes when I went to bed with her, and I was glad for it as I spooned her.
Amara arched her back, pressing her hips against me as her juices slid across my shaft, and she rubbed herself on me, taking her pleasure, using me.
I chuckled, wrapping a hand around her throat as the other reached around her hips, rubbing slow lazy circles around her clit.
She took a deep breath as my cock slid into her core, and her eyes fluttered as I pumped into her.
“Good morning, my little lawyer,” I groaned, her pussy sucking me deeper inside her with each stroke. “I need to feel you.”
She moaned, gripping the back of my head as I traced patterns on her clit, making her hips buck as she clenched around me.
“Amara,” I breathed, writing my next letter to her with my voice. “You feel so good, my little pen pal. Even when you sleep, you dream of me fucking you. I’m with you even in your dreams; there is no escaping me.”
“Enzo,” she moaned.
I grinned against her hair. “That’s right, baby, that’s how I sign my letters.” Then I slammed my hips against hers, taking her harder and harder until she came, squeezing every drop out of me as I climaxed with her.
By the end of the week, she was stronger, her bruises fading. My doctor confirmed that Mark shot nothing vital, and I gritted my teeth as he dug the bullet from my side and stitched me up.
A week passed, and that night, my mood took a darker, dangerous turn .
I tied a blindfold securely behind Amara’s head and tightened the ropes I tied around her wrists.
“You said you trust me,” I reminded her, nipping at her earlobe.
“I’m starting to regret that,” she muttered, and I chuckled. I took her hands and led her outside, careful to watch her step. I took her keys, unlocked her car, and shoved her in the backseat.
“Where are we going?” she exclaimed, laying still on the seat so no one saw her.
“You’ll see.”
The engine hummed beneath us, a few cars whooshing past us on the dirt roads. Only farmers took these paths, but I knew them thanks to my family. Back roads were often used to avoid detection, and the knowledge was essential for the mafia.
I pulled into a clearing, smirking as I parked her car. I exited the vehicle and opened her back door, dragging her out.
The cool night air greeted us with the smells of pine and earth. I tugged at her restraints, and they fell to the ground as she looked around us.
“Run,” I ordered .
She swallowed, her pulse dancing in her throat as she hesitated.
I gave her a wicked smirk. “You don’t want to know what I’ll do to you if I catch you.”
After all the time we spent together, she knew what I was capable of. Her eyes widened, and she turned, bolting through the clearing and heading to the forest beyond.
Adrenaline surged through me as I grinned, waiting until she disappeared beyond the trees before I took off after her. Excitement surged in my veins, the thrill of the hunt making my cock twitch.
Her footsteps echoed ahead of me, taunting, beckoning.
I raced ahead with a single focus in mind.
Catch her and devour her.