Elena #3
He lifts me to my feet, turns me, and bends me over the bed. He pushes up my slip, yanks my panties down, and I hear the snap of a condom rolling onto his cock in the instant before he thrusts into me hard.
“Fuck,” he groans, his fingers finding my clit as he slams into me. “God, you turn me on so fucking much, Elena. Just knowing you were swallowing my cum…” He thrusts again. “Feel how hard I still am for you? Fuck, baby.”
He lasts longer this time, making me come twice with his fingers before he thrusts as deep as he can go, shuddering as he comes. Then he flips me over, disposes of the condom, and gets down on his knees, his mouth pressed between my thighs.
The sensation makes me shiver all over, the wet heat of his mouth sending pleasure through me in waves.
I’m so sensitive that it takes me almost no time at all to come, bucking against his mouth as I cry out, but he doesn’t stop.
He pushes three fingers into me and fucks me with them hard, fingering me as he sucks my clit until I come again, moaning helplessly.
There are tears in my eyes when he slides up the bed, shifting me so that he’s above me. He’s hard again, and I shudder when he strokes between my folds with his thumb, spreading me open as he rolls on another condom.
“Can you take me again, baby?” His voice is soft and thick with lust. “Can you do that?”
I nod wordlessly as he pushes into me, gentler this time.
He fucks me slowly with long strokes, his hands all over me, his mouth on mine despite the fact that I swallowed his cum earlier, then kissing down my neck and over my breasts.
He worships me with his mouth and his hands, gliding in and out of me with that thick, hard cock until I’m trembling with pleasure again.
He comes for a third time, then rolls onto his back, pulling me astride him and dragging my mouth down to his.
“Get me hard one more time,” he murmurs. “I want one more. And at least one more out of you. You’re doing so well. Can I have another?”
The sweetness in this rough man, the way he handles me when he’s so violent with everyone else, makes me want to break apart.
I kiss him back, letting him touch me everywhere and then between my thighs with slow caresses until I come again.
I’ve lost track of how many by now, when he eases into me for the last time, letting me ride him at my own pace.
Tears drip down my cheeks, and he must think it’s from an overwhelm of pleasure, because he doesn’t ask about them.
He just rocks into me slowly, wiping them away, and kisses my salty lips.
Finally, he comes one last time with a shudder, rolling over just enough to dispose of the condom before pulling me against him. His eyes are already drooping with sleep, and I know I’ve worn him out.
Just like I intended to.
When I'm sure he's asleep, I carefully extract myself from his arms. He doesn't stir, just rolls onto his back, one arm thrown over his head, completely vulnerable.
I stand beside the bed for a moment, watching him. In sleep, he looks younger and softer. The hard edges of his face are smoothed away, the tension gone from his shoulders. He looks like someone who could be happy. Someone who could have a normal life.
But he can't. Not in this world. Not with me.
I move to the vanity, my hands steady as I open my jewelry box.
The derringer sits where I left it, hidden under the top layer of necklaces and earrings.
I pick it up, feeling the weight of it in my palm.
I check to make sure it's loaded and then turn back to the bed, the gun cold in my hand.
Declan hasn't moved. He's still on his back, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep, completely unaware and trusting.
I move closer, my bare feet silent. My heart is pounding, but my hands are steady.
I've made my choice. I know what I have to do.
I'm a Capetti. I'm stronger than I think. This is my duty. This is what my family needs from me. I hear my father’s voice over and over in my head, repeating those words.
This is what I need.
Freedom.
I raise the gun, pointing it at his head. My finger finds the trigger. All I have to do is pull. One shot. One moment. And then it's over.
I think about my father's words and the life he promised me. My own home. My own money. No more obligations. No more fear. I think about waking up every morning and deciding what I want to do with my day. About traveling anywhere I want to go. All I have to do is pull the trigger.
My finger tightens on the trigger. The gun is steady in my hand. Declan's face is peaceful in sleep, unaware of what's about to happen.
I can do this. I'm strong enough. I'm a Capetti. This is my duty.
This is my choice.
I'm about to pull the trigger when his eyes open.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. Him lying in bed, sleep-soft and vulnerable, and me standing over him with a gun pointed at his head.
Then his gaze drops to the derringer in my hand.