Chapter 19 Enzo
Dangerous. That’s the only word that comes to mind as my tongue tangles with hers. Her innocence becomes my favorite guilty pleasure, her timid kiss captivating every neuron in my fucked-up mind. I’ve never tasted anything as divine as Lucy Sinclair.
And it’s fucking dangerous.
Because I’ve only had a small taste and I know without a doubt I’d deliver whatever she desired at her feet, dropping to my knees, bloodied and bruised to feel her again.
When her senses return, she rears back, slapping me hard across the face. The sting of her brutality ignites my entire body. Fuck. I want her to do it again.
My head snaps back to hers as I take in her blown pupils, her fingers shielding her mouth. “I’m so sorry, it was instinct.”
A chuckle vibrates my chest because I wouldn’t have expected anything less from her, not after seeing how she handled Dante’s man on her first day. She’s bold—her first instinct isn’t to cower but to strike.
“Fuck, baby. You’re perfect.”
Her brows dip but I don’t give that bratty mouth a chance to respond before snatching her throat in my grasp and exploring her with my tongue again.
Her soft little whimper releases something inside of me and I couldn’t contain myself if I tried, but why would I?
Not with the way her lips beg me for more.
I lift her from the table into my embrace. Her arms naturally wrap around my neck, her legs around my waist. There’s no need to tell her, she reads me as well as I read her. Her body knows exactly what I want, and it greedily obliges.
The cheap wood table can’t be trusted to support what I plan on doing to her, so I scan the expansive gym, eyeing the boxing ring first.
It’ll do.
“Enzo,” she whines and I about nut in my pants when her teeth sink into the muscles of my neck. Her rough bite isn’t enough to break skin, but fuck do I wish she would tear into me and draw blood so I could lick it from her lips.
With one hand, I lift the ropes and set her down, guiding her through and onto the canvas.
She stretches out beneath me, where she belongs.
Gripping her jaw once again, I bring her lips back to my own.
They meld with mine in a perfect fucking dance, challenging my control one moment and bending to my will in the next.
Her teeth nip my bottom lip, and a groan leaves me without my consent, vocalizing how easily this woman could destroy me and I have yet to be inside her.
My teeth trap the delicate flesh of her throat, the skin snapping back when I let go.
I want to bruise her. I want everyone who sees her to know I was here.
She is mine. I move to the other side of her throat as I search for the edge of her shirt and pull it up, but her hands stop me.
She freezes as if I’d injured her. “Don’t. ” She pants between heaving breaths.
“I want to see all of you.”
“No.”
“No?” That’s one fucking word I never want to hear from her, yet I stop. “I don’t like being told no, not without reason.”
My head rests over her breasts and it takes every ounce of strength to keep me still.
Restraint has never been my strong suit, and she is testing it to its fucking limits.
A growl rumbles from my chest as I take in her wild, dilated pupils and erratic breathing.
The peaks of her nipples show through her bra and thin blouse.
“Why?”
She refuses to answer, her grip on my wrist tightening, fuck, she’s a strong little thing.
I won’t go further without her consent because I’m not into that shit.
But I also don’t like liars. If I’m going to have her, and one day I fucking will, she needs to trust me.
She needs to realize her darkness is safe with me.
I’ll match it, raise it, and fucking demolish it with my own. Just so she can let go.
“Answer me. Why can’t I see you?”
She glares up at me, desire blending seamlessly into anger.
“The shirt stays on. Please, Enzo.”
Well, fuck. She had to use that damn word. “Fine.”
Respecting her boundaries, I lower myself further, gripping the waist band of her teasing pencil skirt, the one she struts around this house in, the one that perfectly forms to her ass like a second skin, the one that requires me to take a cold shower on a nightly basis. Yeah, that one.
Pulling it down, inch by inch, she watches warily but doesn’t stop me. And when I have her skirt down to her ankles, I slip it off her heeled feet and thank the devil himself she allowed me to get this far.
Her silken skin and toned legs are a gift from the fucking gods and if I believed in any of them, I might hit my knees in prayer, but I don’t.
So instead, I’ll smother myself in her pussy.
Her thighs were made to rid me of breath, hips made to bruise as I grip them, driving myself into her from behind, and a face made to bring me to ruin.
Yes, Lucy Sinclair was specifically crafted to bring me to my knees.
My head rolls back in utter appreciation for the woman below me.
“You’re going to get me in so much fucking trouble, baby.
” As confident as her body tells me she should be, when I catch her eyes, they tell a different story.
She’s nervous. “Are you scared?” I whisper as I glide my fingertips up her calf and over her knees.
“Yes,” she confesses, surprising the hell out of me.
“Do you think I’ll hurt you?”
Her gaze meets mine. “I’m scared you won’t.”
Am I imagining this right? “You…want me to hurt you?” My Little Doc can’t be as fucked in the skull as I am, surely?
She’s the epitome of elegant innocence and perfected beauty.
But I knew something dark lingered beneath the surface.
Maybe Rafael was right, maybe I might break her…
or maybe she’ll ruin me so far beyond recognition that she’d be the only one that wants me.
Her attention leaves me, head falling to the side to stare out into the empty gym. “Whatever this is, Enzo, what we’re starting isn’t forever. Pain will be easier to let go of in the end.”
Let go? I don’t like the sound of that. Prior to three days ago, I would have agreed with her.
Relationships aren’t my thing, but then she laughed.
Then I saw her smile. Then I kissed her and…
I’m not letting go. Not anytime soon. She can get that idea right the fuck out of her pretty mind. “Look me in the eyes and say that.”
Her jaw tightens, fuck she’s stubborn. “We are…”
“We are what? Come on, break my heart while I break your body.” If she wants pain, I’ll hurt her to the point she’ll come to crave what only I can provide.
“You need a safe word, baby.” Fuck, I need her to chose a word, to have an escape because I want to push her limits.
See how close I can get her to destruction, only to show her she doesn’t need it, show her she’s stronger than she believes.
That I’ll always read her body, knowing it better than she does herself.
Knowing exactly what she can and can’t take.
Fuck, I can’t wait. The excitement hums through me like an electric pulse.
“Resa.”
Surrender.
She utters the word with a perfect Italian accent. “Resa,” I repeat.
Pulling my knife from my pocket, I flip the blade open and delight in the way it sparkles in her eyes. If I weren’t questionably mad, I’d say she’s excited.
The blade glides against the skin of her inner thigh, all the way to the delicate crease of her hip until it slips under the red lace and snaps it effortlessly.
The tip of the knife runs over her lower abdomen, goosebumps scattering up her torso and down her legs.
Slowly, I pull the knife down until the flat of it runs over her clit, a quiet hiss leaving those lips.
I can’t help but smirk as she lifts her hips, asking for more. Naughty, naughty Little Doc.
Ever so gently, I use the edge of the steel to collect her arousal, and she freezes, her gaze locking onto mine, an excited fear radiating from her irises.
I can practically feel what she feels—that moment before the roller coaster drops, the controlled thrill.
But what truly has my heart racing…the fact she barely knows me, yet she’s trusting me.
The steel glistens as I lift it up and lick the blade clean, and her mouth pops open with a stuttering inhale.
“Fuck,” I moan, tasting the combination of her fear and trust, like sugar-coated bullets, sweet and metallic. Like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.
I want to see more of her, but she’s already set the boundary of her shirt staying on. Now, I need more. I nudge her knee with my elbow, asking for her to drop her knees to the canvas, but she denies my request. My brow lifts in questions and her teeth bite into her soft, swollen bottom lip.
“Don’t play with me,” I warn, and she squeezes her knees tighter, my hips preventing her from closing them completely. For a split second, I wonder if she’s changed her mind, but she hasn’t used her safe word, so I know she’s only being a brat.
My cock pulses in my slacks, ready to punish that alluring attitude.
My knife glides from her thigh toward her knee, not hard enough to pierce skin but enough to make her feel it.
I press it into the soft flesh of her inner knee, commanding her to listen.
She resists and red pools on the tip of my knife.
My gaze flies to ever changing brown eyes, silently checking in with her.
She bites her perfect fucking lip and nods, granting me permission to do more.
Her knees fall to the side, opening up and blessing me with a full view of her dripping pussy.
The crimson liquid glistens against the steel and it’s such a pretty sight, I can’t help myself. I bring the tip of the blade to my tongue, but she rears up, grabbing my wrist and ceasing my movement. Without a word, she leans in and runs her tongue up the other side of the blade.
I’m too fucking shocked to move as the blood coats her tongue. “You don’t deserve that,” she says as she lays back down.
But now she’s started a game, one I’ll win. I’ll prove to her I deserve every sick, twisted thought she has. Not only do I deserve them, I own them.
I settle myself between her thighs, guiding each of her legs over my shoulders as she threads her fingers through my hair, gripping it tight.
When my tongue runs a languid stroke from opening to clit, my entire body runs hot.
Truly tasting her for the first time has my vision going red. Not with rage, but with all she is.
Passion, fire, warmth, danger, power, desire.
But nothing could compare to her sharp inhale and long moan she releases. Her back arches off the canvas of the boxing ring and her fingers dig into my hair, gripping it so tight, it feels like she’ll pull it straight from my scalp.
My tongue delves into her sweet pussy, taking every ounce she pours into me. She’s fucking soaked and the way she writhes beneath me…it’s like she’s never been touched before.
“More, Enzo,” she begs as her legs begin to shake, closing around my face. I’m buried between her strong thighs and if the grim reaper called me home at this exact moment, I’d go happily knowing I got to taste her.
“Enzo! Please!” She trembles with the demand and who am I to deny her?
I meet her intense, heavy gaze. “You want more? Think you can handle it?”
“Yes!” she growls and I can’t help but grin against her pussy as I teasingly rub the handle of my blade against her opening.
“What do you want, baby? You want me to fuck you with my knife so every time I use it to carve flesh from bone, all I’ll remember is how well you took it? How you screamed and begged to be fucked with this sinful blade?”
She whimpers, muscles trembling before me as she whispers her plea, “Please.”
I push the handle into her tight opening, and a hiss leaves her lips. My pace remains slow and steady as I’m met with slight resistance but her hips rock to the rhythm I set, encouraging me to go deeper as I continue to circle my tongue over her clit.
My free hand slowly travels under her shirt, up toward her tits and when my fingertips graze her ribs, my world crashes down as she comes all over my blade. Her muscles quivers and shake as my fingertips rest over raised skin interrupting smooth flesh.
Scars.
Upon scars.
Upon scars.
I know the moment she realizes where I’m touching as her gaze flies to mine, blown wide with fear. I pull the knife from her and sit up faster than she can comprehend. Jerking her shirt up, red hot anger boils my fucking blood.
Sitting below her breasts, lines upon lines of scars litter her skin. Before I can begin counting them, she flies backwards, pulling her shirt down and scurrying away from me.
“Who the fuck did that to you?” I growl.
I’ve never felt this kind of savage need to rip someone in half.
Grabbing her ankle, I pull her toward me, flat on her back and climb over her again, but she’s shut off.
I can see the fear in her. She's in a state of fight or flight. But my arms have locked her in a cage and I’m not letting her go until I know who I need to eliminate from this world.
“Who hurt you, Lucy? Don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”
“Enzo…”
My fist slams into the canvas next to her head and the mere fact she didn’t flinch tells me one thing.
Violence is nothing new to her. It’s not my fists, nor my knife, not even my raised voice that scared her.
No, it was my fingers gently grazing her scars, my eyes promising a discovery she’s damn determined to keep hidden that scared her.
“Baby, tell me, please,” I beg.
“Let me go,” she says, her brown irises unforgiving.
“Who did that to you?”
Her body beneath me, once malleable to my touch, is now cold as stone. When her hand comes up and cups my cheek, I instinctively lean into it. Why did I do that? What’s come over me?
“Resa,” she whispers and I close my eyes in defeat.
Fuck.