Chapter 5 #2
His mouth pulls back just enough for his thumb to take over, circling my clit while his fingers pump inside me.
The combination of suction, stretching, and friction obliterates rational thought.
I'm melting. The cold tunnel vanishes. The looming threat of the mafia war disappears.
There is only the scorching heat of his mouth, the bruising grip of his hands on my hips, and the rapid, spiraling ascent of my climax.
"Come for me, Catalina," he growls against my wetness, his voice vibrating directly against my clit. "Give it to me."
My body obeys him without question. A shuddering climax rips through my core. My hips snap upward. My body spasms around his fingers, slick heat flooding over his knuckles. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders.
Fabio drinks my climax like it is the only thing keeping him alive. He swallows my soft moans, his tongue smoothing over my sensitive flesh until the last violent tremor fades.
He pulls back, his mouth wet and shining in the dim light. His chest heaves. The hunger coming off him is its own pressure. He stands up, shedding his tactical pants.
My breath vanishes.
He's heavy in his own hand. His thick cock stands aggressively at attention, jutting out from a dense patch of dark hair.
A single drop of clear precum weeps from the blunt head.
He's built for taking what he wants. He grips his length, stroking his hand up and down once. The veins pulse under his grip.
"You're going to take every inch," he states, a low promise that makes a fresh wave of slick heat pool between my thighs.
"Yes." I reach for him, arms open in total surrender. "Give it to me. Fill me."
Fabio steps between my spread legs. He lowers his frame over me, pressing me into the narrow cot. He braces his weight on his forearms. He aligns the blunt, weeping head of his cock against my slick opening.
He holds my gaze. His eyes burn into mine, stripping away the last remnants of my old life.
His thumb drags across my lower lip, slow and deliberate. The calloused pad presses down, a silent command against my mouth. My eyes lock onto his. I couldn't look away if I wanted to.
Fabio drives his hips forward, burying himself inside my pussy with one smooth, devastating thrust.
The stretch is brutal in the best way. I gasp, my fingernails biting into the hard muscles of his back. He is so big, stretching my walls wide, filling the empty, aching void inside me with blistering heat and solid muscle. He sinks into me until our hips are locked flush.
He stops. His jaw clenches. The muscles in his neck strain as he fights for control.
"Fuck," he grinds out, his voice a harsh, broken growl. "Catalina. You're so tight. You feel like heaven."
"Move," I beg, my hands dropping to grip the flex of his ass. I pull him closer, wanting him deeper, wanting to absorb him. "Fabio, please."
He withdraws slowly, dragging his length along my sensitive internal walls, almost pulling out before driving his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt again. The friction is a physical shockwave.
I arch into his thrust, a helpless moan escaping my lips.
He sets a punishing rhythm. Deep, deliberate thrusts that shake the narrow wooden cot beneath us. The springs squeak in protest. The tunnel fills with the wet sound of our bodies colliding. He grinds his hips at the base of every thrust, dragging right against my swollen clit.
I lose my mind. The calculated Bellanti defector is dead. I'm nothing but raw sensation now. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back, forcing him even deeper.
"Mine," he snarls, his thrusts accelerating into a violent, hammering pace. "You hear me? You never look back. You never run. You're a Costa. You belong to me."
"Yours," I scream out, my head thrashing against the rough blanket. "I belong to you."
The certainty of his claim fractures the last piece of my armor.
For my entire life, my family name was a curse.
A blood-soaked legacy that suffocated me.
My Aunt Maria died trying to escape it. I spent my whole life walking on eggshells, pretending to be cold, pretending to be unfeeling, terrified that one wrong move would end with a bullet in my head.
But right here, with this lethal man buried deep inside me, I am safe. What he gives me isn't a leash. It's a wall at my back.
The pressure builds rapidly, a tight pulse spiraling out from my clit. Fabio's balls slap against my wet ass with every brutal thrust. His cock stretches my walls, grinding against my deepest spot.
"Fabio," I sob as my body clenches around him.
Take it,” he roars, shifting his hands up to grip my shoulders, pinning me flat to the mattress.
He drives his hips forward in a rapid, hammering rhythm.
The friction breaks me open. My climax tears out of the base of my spine and floods every nerve at once.
My body arches off the cot, a high, piercing scream ripping from my throat.
My wet, slick walls spasm violently, crushing tightly around his cock, milking him relentlessly.
Fabio throws his head back. A raw, broken roar tears from his chest. His body goes rigid.
He drives his hips forward one final, devastating time, burying himself as deep as physically possible, and unloads his hot seed directly into my core.
I squeeze my thighs around his waist, absorbing the pulsing spurts of his climax, taking everything he has to give.
He slumps forward, spent. His weight presses me into the thin mattress, and I welcome every ounce of it. It grounds me. His chest heaves against my sensitive breasts. His harsh, ragged breaths fan over the crook of my neck.
We lie there in the damp, freezing speakeasy tunnel, our bodies slick with sweat and tangled together on a flimsy wooden cot. The air is thick with sex, stone, and the motor-oil-and-metal scent that means him.
Fabio doesn't withdraw. He stays buried deep inside my slick pussy, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me flush to his chest. He buries his face in my hair.
"I'm never letting you go," he whispers roughly, his voice vibrating directly against my skin. "If they want you, they have to kill me first. And I refuse to die."
I wrap my arms tightly around his broad back, tracing the raised lines of the lion ink on his arm. The tension in his muscles is fading, replaced by a profound, possessive peace.
I let my eyes drift shut, listening to the steady, stubborn beat of his heart beneath my palm.
A soft, dry thought floats through my exhausted mind.
If my uncle and the rest of the Bellanti family knew I was currently locked in a subterranean vault, getting thoroughly wrecked and claimed by their biggest rival, they would try to kill me twice.
Let them try. They have no idea what kind of man is standing between them and me.
"I'm not going anywhere," I whisper back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "You're stuck with me, Costa."
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound of pure male satisfaction.
He shifts his weight, pulling the coarse military blanket up over both of our bare bodies to block out the harsh chill of the tunnel.
He holds me tight, anchoring me to his side.
The war is raging somewhere on the streets above us.
The intel I gave him is moving up the chain, lighting fuses that will burn by morning.
The blood feud is escalating into an inferno.
But down here, in the dark, locked safely away from the world, I finally found my home.