Chapter 25
25
A mara
Massimo eases me onto the mattress, then covers my body with his. For the last few minutes, our lips have been locked into an endless kiss—a greedy beast. The more we kiss, the hungrier it gets. There's something different about him tonight, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
Meanwhile, I'm putting my fingers on him, scratching his neck, touching his bare chest. He's removed his clothes, leaving them on the floor, as he dragged me upstairs.
We're naked, lusting for each other.
Tonight's the last night before I tell him about my brother. Everything will change tomorrow, which fuels me to enjoy every second of our time together even more than usual. The world may as well be swept from under me tomorrow, but it's still here tonight. He's still here.
"Massimo," I whisper when he finally disengages his mouth from mine and removes my shirt over my head. "I love you."
His eyes catch mine, and I detect surprise and confusion in his stare. He surely wasn't expecting those words from me, and fuck, neither was I. They escape my lips like a revelation but with the seriousness of a devout cult follower. I've felt this way for weeks, maybe months. And now it's time to say it—while I still can.
"You don't have to say it too," I say, not wanting to pressure him now. "But I love you. So, so much."
Without breaking eye contact, he parts my thighs and slams his cock into me. His thrust is so powerful and deep that we groan at the same time. My inner walls stretch to accommodate him, throbbing. His cock throbs violently, making me pulse, unable able to know if it comes from my heart, my throat, my pussy, or my wrists. Everything is connected, squeezing my breath from my lungs. I'm so full, so fulfilled, so fucking complete that it's hard to think.
"Yes. Oh, yes," I yelp.
He rails me with hard thrusts. I'm so tender, so sensitive, that when he embraces me, and his piercings rub against my skin, a fiery sensation ravishes me, and the most powerful orgasm hits me.
He comes immediately after, like he was ready, and waited one millisecond after I found my release to get his.
Our bodies tremble, slick with sweat, the scent of sex swirling around us.
I sigh while he dashes out of the bed, grabs a pair of lounge pants slung over a chair, and slips them on. "Amara."
I run my fingers through my hair, wiping it from my face. "Yes?"
He stares at me, standing in the middle of the room. "Why didn't you tell me your brother woke up from the coma?"
My heart stops. I pull myself into a sitting position, my limbs shaking for a different reason than moments prior.
Buckets of panic roll through me. Denial is futile. He’s discovered the truth, and I can't give him anything but what little I can offer. My side of the story. "How did you find out?"
He shrugs, his stance harsh. His jaw clenches. "Doesn't matter."
He's right. It doesn't. I let out a long sigh, willing my heart to slow so I can talk calmly. "I'm sorry. I was going to tell you."
"Sure."
"To be honest… we didn't want you to know because my mom was scared that you or someone from your family would harm my brother, given our agreement for you to run their business. When he woke up, we wanted to give him time to find out what kind of life he was supposed to lead and if coming back to what he was doing was an option," I say, my eyes not leaving his.
His right eye twitches. When he's pissed off, he's very economical with his movements. I've learned that about him—and now, I'm the reason he's pissed off. "When did he wake up?"
"A month ago, he opened his eyes. He’s been recovering ever since."
He shakes his head slowly, disappointment oozing from him. "And you didn't once think to tell me."
Damn it. My stomach twists in knots. I've dealt with disappointment from my parents all my life. For a while, I was disappointed in myself. But to be on the receiving end of that energy from Massimo is a different beast. It's an assault on my very soul. "I thought about it, yes, but I was scared. I didn't want you to be mad at me," I say evenly, realizing how dumb I sound. How selfish.
"Because you knew hiding it was wrong."
I slip out of bed, naked, not bothering to pull the sheet with me. At this point, he's seen all my angles. All my sides. He knows me inside and out. And from the look on his face, he's not happy. "Massimo… I'm sorry."
I move toward him, but he steps back and lifts his hand in denial. He wants space from me, and I can't insist.
Anxiety wells inside me, my nerves overwhelmed. I sit on the edge of the bed, where we had sex and I declared my love for him not long ago. I grab the sheet and wrap it around me—now needing that extra layer of protection.
"Do you know what it means to me to hear it from a third party that your brother awoke from the coma and is planning a comeback while I was trying to recover some of your family's money? Makes me weak in the public eye. If you had told me, I could’ve done something about it."
"Like what? Killing him?" I ask prematurely while still processing his words. The idea he could have learned about Alonzo from a third party adds another level of contempt. No wonder he's so pissed. Damn it—I wish I’d told him. This is all my fault.
He walks in a small circle. "Do you think murder is the answer to all problems?"
"Sometimes it is. When you killed Ugo to avenge James and me."
"To avenge you . Not James."
"Well, I'm thankful you avenged his death, too. He didn't deserve what he got," I say lightly, hoping to change the heavy tone of the conversation. Maybe Massimo will understand. He's mad now, but when he takes a breath, he'll realize I didn't mean to hurt him.
Massimo comes to a halt and tosses a look my way that could freeze cities. "Didn't he?"
I shift on the bed. Okay, so changing the tone of the conversation is out the window. "What do you mean?"
"James wasn't the sweet, average Joe you thought he was. He was a journalist, planning to write a story and tell everyone about your family."
His words stab the flag of deception in my heart. That can't be true. My chest suddenly feels heavy, weighed down. "What? Who told you that?"
"Your mom."
"She lied," I say quickly. Of course. My mom would say anything to make me look like the bad guy. I don't know when she had this conversation with Massimo, but it doesn't matter now.
He jams both hands in the pockets of his lounge pants. "I had a detective check it. It's true."
I press my palm to my chest.
James never loved me. My heart breaks into tiny pieces, and each one spikes my nerve endings, leaving me hurt and bruised. What makes me think Massimo ever will? I'd have to be fucking stupid to believe that.
I tighten the sheet around me. "I need to be alone."
"That's rich. You fucking betrayed me, and you get hurt. Is this a game you're playing? Like telling me you love me earlier?"
"I meant that."
"So convenient. Did you know I found out?"
"How would I know?" And why did he fuck me before questioning me? Was that a goodbye fuck, like he did with Daphne before getting married? Will he leave me… or kill me? Fear rolls down my spine.
He straightens his shoulders. He's a mountain of a man, and if he tries to hurt me, I’ll have no chance. He's also hurt. I can see it in his eyes. "I don't know, Amara. You're surprising me more and more. You've used me. How can I be sure your brother didn't recover sooner? How do I know your family didn’t want me to inject money into their business so he could return and scoop it up?"
"You mean before our marriage? That doesn't make sense. If he’d been awake, why would I get married?"
Massimo touches my shoulder, then pushes me backward onto the mattress. He covers my body with his. "Nothing makes sense; you're right. You told me you loved me at the eleventh hour," he says, his gaze falling to my lips. “Such a good actress."
I touch his chin, urging him to look at me. "How about you fucking me at the eleventh hour?"
A flicker of dark desire touches his eyes. "What does one thing have to do with the other?"
"It doesn't. Not for you. You can fuck me all you want while hating my guts," I say, spitting out the words, not hiding my frustration. A second later, as he pulls down his pants and strips away the sheet, I realize maybe I should’ve chosen different words.
"That's right," he says, his voice deep, dangerous like a double shot of whiskey after you've already had too many. I don't even like whiskey. But Massimo… that's a different story.
He rubs the thick head of his cock against my pussy, and arousal jolts through me. Lowering his head, he laps his tongue at my nipple. I close my eyes, arching my back and shamelessly giving him more of me.
"Massimo… we shouldn't do this," I say in a soft voice that doesn't even convince me.
He grazes his teeth over my nipple as he touches my pussy. "Little slut," he whispers.
I know he's talking about my pussy. Hell, at this point, after talking, we both have internal anger we need to address. I'm not denying him anything. Maybe he'll forgive me. Maybe?—
He sucks my breast, taking it into his mouth, and I thrust my hands into his hair, showing him what I like—how I like it.
Growling, he thrusts his big dick inside me, and I yelp. He switches his attention from one breast to the other, nipping my tit, teasing my nipple with his teeth, making me squirm in anticipation. My moans fill the air, each breath louder, more long-winded.
I don't know if I'll get to say these things to him anymore. He's probably fucking me now to prove a point. Shame scorches me as he fucks me relentlessly with his cock like he doesn’t care about my well-being.
His desire for me is an entity he wants to squash. Well, I wish I could crush it, too. But I can't. Each time he curls his hips, slams all the way to the hilt, and retreats halfway, only to return harder, he sends me one inch closer to the edge. And I need it—oh, how I need it.
"Oh, yes. I need to come, baby. So bad," I say.
My words trigger something in him because he slips out of me, flips me so my tummy touches the mattress, and lifts my ass. Then he thrusts two digits into my pussy. I clench my thighs around his fingers, desperate for release.
My heart races out of my chest, and I see dots in the corners of my eyes. I’m so close.
Abruptly, he disengages his fingers from my sex and places them between my ass cheeks. Unlike the other times he's done this, he's a lot faster.
He caresses the inside of my cheeks until he pops two fingers into my hole. Growling, he plays with it, stretching it, getting me used to the in-and-out friction.
I clasp the sheets and try to get on all fours. He presses his free hand to my back, keeping me on the mattress with my head buried in the pillow, ass in the air for the taking.
The metallic poke of his piercing slides between my cheeks, shooting a thread of electric excitement through me. I moan into the pillow, the silky fabric already damp.
He thrusts his cock into me, and the ache stings my nerve endings. The other times, he made a point to lather lube or give me a rim job to ensure I was ready. Now, urgency dictates otherwise.
I bite my inner cheek, pushing through the pain during the first thrusts. He doesn't go easy on me. Is he punishing me? If that's the price for him to forgive me, I'll happily give it to him.
Massimo drapes his body over mine, sneaking his hand to my sex and pulling me upright with him so he's still inside me, my back to his front, my knees on the mattress. I brace my hands against the wall for support.
"Give me your tongue, rat," he demands.
I lean my head on his chest and part my lips, which he catches with his in a kiss that lights every cell on fire. He plays with my pussy while moving his cock in my ass, and I feel like I’m about to die.
He intensifies the kiss, nipping my lips, not playfully, but like he's punishing me. Hell, I'll take it. Little stabs of pain fill me, but I can't stop. I’ll give him what he needs—what I need. Even if this is the end… we'll crash, but we'll burn first. Together.
Massimo fingers me harshly, my pussy so wet that it makes squishing sounds. "Come, slut. Come for me," he says, his voice raspy.
He curls his finger, reaching my G-spot. I jerk forward, then backward, intensifying the angle of his cock in my asshole. Still, I can't control the ripples of pleasure coming from different parts of my body, meeting in my core and fucking exploding.
I cream like I’ve never creamed, my pearly essence squirting out of me, my moans cutting the air until my throat is dry and raw. He takes my lips in another aggressive kiss, and I can barely breathe.
I'm on an orgasmic high, unsure if I'm still in my body. He nips my shoulder, sending tingles through me, and wraps his hands around my neck again. He's done this once before, with one hand.
Both warm palms tighten on my throat, restricting my airway. He fucks my ass deeper, harder, a mix of pain and familiar pleasure sneaking in with each thrust. I want to moan, to talk, to breathe. But I can't.
The ringing in my ear intensifies, and my mouth is so dry I can't swallow. My vision is blurry. Am I dying? He loosens the grip on my neck, and I cough, catching up with breathing. Then he groans. With each thrust, his fingers bite into my skin, restricting my airway, only to allow me to breathe a few seconds later.
It's the rawest sexual exchange we've ever shared, allowing him to dictate my breathing. See how far he'll take it.
We fall into a pattern. I gulp air at the same moment he slams his cock into me. He squeezes my throat again, in tandem with retreating, only to return and let me take another breath, more like a gasp.
This back and forth, not knowing if I'll live or die, if we're together or not, adds to the intensity. My nipples, still tender from his attention earlier, harden into diamond tips. A fresh coat of cream fills my sex, and I'm confused about enjoying this nonsense. This hot nonsense.
"That's why I can't let you go, rat," he says, his voice so rough it takes me seconds to understand his words.
When I do, the hope of being his forever sends me over the edge. When he loosens the choke, I moan, yelp, and let go as waves roll over me, riding me, filling every part of me with a dark pleasure I've never experienced before.
I hear him groan behind me, and he comes, filling me with his hot load. He removes his hands from my throat. I cough and fall on the bed, my pulse throbbing erratically.
I tingle and ache all over, his cum dripping from my ass, my body a sweaty mess.
The mattress depresses as he sits on the bed, which shows he has more strength than me.
Coughing, I reach for the glass of water on the nightstand and take a generous gulp. Relaxing is all I want, but I can't do it without knowing we're okay. I'm not playing games.
I wrap myself with the sheet and sit opposite him. "Are we okay?"
"No," he says. "Amara, what you did… it'll be a bitch to fix. You didn't trust me. You hid a very important piece of the puzzle from me. Then you tried to manipulate me and said you loved me."
The bastard still doesn’t believe I love him. "I'm this horrible human being, but you fucked me again. When you choked me, did a part of you wish you could kill me?"
"Choking isn't about killing. Not the type I did with you."
"That's not what I asked," I say, standing even though my knees wobble. I’m aware that if he wanted me to die, he could have done it. But I need some kind of reassurance from him. I need to know one day—if not now—he’ll forgive me.
I was upset when he messed things up and hired his ex to his father’s birthday party, but I chose to believe and forgive him. I understand what I did is way worse. Then, another thought occurs, and I say, “You care for your brothers. Wouldn’t you have protected them if you were in my position?”
“When you talk like that, you’re justifying what you’ve done.”
I bite my inner cheek. I get it. We need space from each other. I need space from him.
Determination keeps me standing, and I dash to the closet and grab some clothes. I need to shower and regroup—and most of all, I need distance from Massimo to think straight. "Massimo… I need to think. I can't be around you. If you don't leave, I'll go to a guest room."
"Now you're leaving? Who's being unreasonable?" he asks, and the hurt from before returns to his tone. "You betrayed me, Amara. You accused me of fucking you after I knew… but you've known all along. You want me to forgive you instantly when forgiving isn't my forte."
"I'll sleep in the guest room. This conversation isn't going anywhere. Good night," I say, slamming the door behind me before he can protest.