CHAPTER 30
Santino
The second her lips parted under mine—that was it.
There was no going back now. No control left to cling to. Three years of restraint snapped clean in half like it had never existed.
I’d lied to myself. Pretended distance would dull it, that time would make her fade. It didn’t. It carved her deeper.
The result—her lips moulded to mine like they were a part of me. Warm and alive, breathing against me.
Mine.
And that thought no longer scared me.
There was nothing pretty about the kiss. It was possessive, violent, brutally honest, and I was done pretending otherwise.
She tasted exactly like I remembered.
No—worse. Because memory had softened her. Reality ruined me.
My teeth caught her bottom lip, biting hard enough to make her gasp. I didn’t let go. I tugged, tasting the sting, tasting her. My tongue swiped across the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and when she gave it, I plunged in—deep, rough, claiming.
Her body pressed into mine as though she’d been fighting this for just as long, waiting as desperately as I had.
I should stop. I didn’t. I couldn’t.
My hand found her ass and squeezed hard, dragging her impossibly closer, because no amount of her would ever feel like enough.
Her tongue met mine, hesitant at first, then desperate, tangling, sliding, chasing. I groaned into her mouth, the sound low and rough, because this had stopped feeling like a kiss.
This was possession dressed up just enough to pass as devotion.
I nipped at her lip again, harder this time, and the sound she made nearly undid me. My hand tightened at her throat, thumb resting over her pulse as I kissed her deeper, greedier, wanting more of her than I had any right to want.
Every clash of teeth, every swipe of tongue was a battle I refused to lose.
I wanted her to feel it—the hunger, the years of restraint snapping.
The beast that had spent years waiting, starving for this exact collision, had finally been unleashed.
A low sound left her throat—and it went straight through me, making my cock twitch.
“Fuck,” I muttered against her mouth.
I’d waited too long. Imagined this a thousand times.
None of it came close. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the reality of her. For the way she responded. For the way she let me.
That was the thing that broke me. That was the part I wouldn’t recover from.
Every bite, every lick, every breath stolen from her mouth felt less like desire and more like a vow I couldn’t take back.
I took her hand and guided it down over my cock, letting her feel exactly what she did to me. And the way her breath hitched told me she felt the twitch. Her thighs squeezed together, body betraying her, and I smiled against her lips, biting once more before swallowing her moan whole.
“Feel that?” I said, voice rough, uneven in a way that betrayed just how close to the edge I was. “That’s what you do to me,” I murmured against her ear.
I’d had women before. Plenty. None of them ever felt like this. None of them ever made me feel seen. And no one had ever made me feel this needed.
I’d fallen so far into her I barely recognised the man I used to be. The frightening part was that I didn’t miss him.
I wanted her to know. To understand. To stop pretending she didn’t drive me insane.
Her fingers moved, tentative at first, then slower…
more intentional against my length. Completely unaware she was about to undo me.
She took in a sharp breath, biting my lip as she went lower, until she touched the swollen head through my sweatpants.
She circled once, slowly, and then gave a light squeeze.
My body betrayed me instantly, a sharp pulse of need tightening too fast through me. A low curse burned in my throat as I felt it—the slow leak of pre-cum, my control slipping far earlier than it should have, giving me away.
Fuck.
“Don’t—” I bit into her shoulder harder, breath rough, uneven.
If she didn’t stop, I’d surely come in my pants. Not like this. Not before I’d taken my time with her. I’d waited too long to lose control now. I wanted to drag this out, make her understand, make this moment carve itself into her bones the way she’d carved herself into mine.
My grip shifted, lifting her effortlessly onto the counter, because I wanted to taste her. Needed to taste her. And I was done waiting. Because restraint was no longer an option.
I saw the unmistakable stain of wetness in her shorts.
“You’re soaking already.”
Of course she was. I’d seen the signs long before she’d ever admitted them. In her breathing. In the way she looked at me. In how her body betrayed her even when her words didn’t.
My hand slid down, tugging at the band of her shorts, dragging them down, eyes locked on hers. I didn’t ask again. I didn’t give her time to think.
Thinking would bring him into it. Because the second she started thinking, guilt would follow. And I refused to let him exist anywhere near this moment. I refused to share her—even in her own head.
“Roxanne Talati,” I growled, voice low, dangerous. “I’m going to make sure you never question what you are to me again. That I’m tethered to you. That I’ll never let you go.”
Because words weren’t enough anymore. They never had been. Three years of yearning had stripped me down to something ugly and honest. I’d spent so long wanting her in silence that desire had stopped feeling like a choice. It had become part of me.
I dropped to the stool, bracing her thighs apart, spreading her, caging her against the counter.
Her pussy was glistening with desire. I traced a slow circle on her clit before licking her from entrance to her clit. A satisfied growl escaped me as my other hand slid down her thigh.
Her taste was intoxicating, heady, burning up an inferno in my body with a desire to mark her. Warm and addictive—the kind of taste a man ruins himself chasing. Like the first drag of smoke after surviving hell.
She gasped, her body arching, and I knew this wasn’t just lust. We had never been outrunning this. We’d only been delaying it. Like gravity pulling me exactly where I’d always been meant to be. Deeper this time.
Her taste hit me, sharp and sweet, and I lost control. If ruin tasted this good, I’d come crawling back for more.
“Fuck,” I muttered against her.
“Peccato… e redenzione.”
(Sin… and redemption.)
My tongue worked on her pussy again, circling her clit then flicking it rough with my tongue.
“I don’t think I’ll get enough of you.”
Her fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me closer, chasing friction. The fact she let herself feel it with me cracked a lock open in my chest, and for the first time in years, my heart felt terrifyingly alive.
Violence used to be the only thing that made me feel alive, walking into fights just to quiet the noise in my head. Now it was her. It was her breath. Her taste. The feel of her fingers tangled in my hair while she came apart for me.
“Oh—god—” she broke, the word tearing out without a thought.
I stopped; my hand came down sharp on her pussy. The slap made her gasp, a cry tearing out of her. She propped up on her elbows to look at me through hazy eyes.
“No,” I said sharply. “Not him.”
She blinked up at me, dazed, barely there.
“Say my name,” I growled. “Only. Mine.”
“Santino.” It almost came out as a whisper and I lost it.
I licked again, reverent and feral in equal measure, pushing a finger in her. Her walls clenched around me with surprising tightness. Then I pushed another, stretching her, scissoring in and out as my mouth worked her clit.
The sound of her wetness was like music to my ears. Her breathing hitched against me—uneven, out of sync, and I liked it. As soon as I found her walls clenching around my fingers, I pulled away and kissed her thigh, just shy of her pussy. She let out a frustrated cry.
“Look at you,” I muttered, voice rough. “Already falling apart.”
I wasn’t letting this end too quickly. Not after waiting this long and denying myself her for years.
I’d just found my new favourite flavour. And it was her.And I was going to draw this out for as long as I could, even if it meant denying her an orgasm. Because I wanted to own every second of this. To stretch it. To build it. To make sure she never forgot. To make her feel every second of it.
Her hips moved, chasing my lips. Demanding more.
And the dark monster in me thrived on that.
Let her chase. Let her need it. Let her finally understand how deep this went.
My hand came down again, sharp against her pussy, pink blooming beautifully on her skin, making her wetter.
“Don’t rush this,” I rasped, voice low, dangerous. “I’ve waited far too long for this to be over in a few minutes.”
Her lips parted, breath uneven, frustration written all over her face. And fuck, I loved it.
I wanted her on edge. I wanted her restless. Aching. Needing.Wanted her feeling even a fraction of what I’d lived with for years.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
I smirked. Because she wasn’t pushing me away. She was still here. Choosing this. Wanting it as much as I did. And I loved that she trusted me enough to give herself over to it.
I knew she hated it. Hated how easily her body betrayed her—and hated that it was me doing it.
Hell, I’d spent three goddamn years fighting the same battle.
I smiled against her pussy, savouring the sight of her trembling as I slowly nibbled her clit.
“I’m going to take my time, Volpi,” I said, voice guttural. “Every second. Every taste. Until you understand what you mean to me.”
I’d watched her exist just out of reach for years. I’d starved for this. And now—I was going to take my time. I wanted all of it. The tremble in her thighs. The sounds she tried to swallow. The pieces she’d spent years hiding.
I wanted her to remember this. To remember me.
To understand she couldn’t keep running from what existed between us.
I pushed my tongue in her. Her hips jerked, fingernails scraping my scalp and tugging at my hair, and I welcomed the sting as my hand moved higher. I slid my hand over her breast, palming, squeezing.
“You can’t ask a starving man to rush through his meal.”
Her legs instantly closed on me, but I dug my fingers in deeper, holding her in place. Her body began to tense and shake, and I found myself drinking in every broken sound she gave me.Drinking her in.
“Shatter for me,” I whispered against her. “Drench me. Let me feel every piece of you break against me.”
I pushed two fingers in her and sucked on her clit, until she was writhing and moaning my name.
“Ahh… Santi… noooo.”
She came so hard against my mouth, moaning my name, broken and raw. That’s how I knew this was a ruin she’d never walk away from. I didn’t stop. Even as her second wave of orgasm hit, even as she shattered against me, trembling, undone—I didn’t stop.
She thought I’d leave her again. Never. Not now. Especially now that I finally had her—I had no intention of letting her go.