CHAPTER 10 #2
He answers by capturing my mouth in a kiss that is vastly different from the chaotic violence of our first. This one is deep, languid, and overwhelmingly possessive.
His thick tongue pushes past my lips, exploring my mouth with a slow, arrogant dominance, tasting the metallic water we just shared.
He’s taking his absolute time, savoring the way my rigid posture is melting, my body softening and yielding against his chest. He cups the back of my head, his fingers tangling forcefully in my matted chestnut hair to hold me perfectly still for his mouth.
"Open for me," he murmurs against my lips.
"Always," I breathe back, totally feral for him. I’m drowning in this man and I don't give a single fuck about reaching the surface.
Angelo’s hands roam my body with a terrifyingly intimate familiarity.
He traces the curves of my breasts, his calloused thumbs aggressively flicking over my tight, sensitive nipples until I arch my spine, pressing myself harder against his chest. Every touch is a stark reminder of his complete power over my physical form.
He’s mapping me out, memorizing the exact way my muscles jump and shudder when he finds a particularly sensitive spot on my ribs or my inner thighs.
He pinches the soft flesh of my hip, biting down just hard enough to leave a bruise, a silent, painful brand of his ownership.
"This belongs to me," he growls, his hand sweeping down my stomach to press hard against my core. "This too."
"Stop... please," I whimper, though my hips buck upward into his hand. My body doesn't belong to my father or my brother anymore. It belongs to the man who ruined my life.
He suddenly stands, lifting me with him, and pushes me flat onto the concrete.
But this time he strips off his heavy tactical jacket first, tossing it down onto the floor to give my bare back a small mercy from the grit.
He moves aggressively between my legs, his heavy weight grounding me into the floor.
He uses his knees to force my thighs incredibly wide, exposing me completely to his unwavering, dark gaze.
He unzips his pants and frees himself, his massive cock springing out, thick and rigid.
He stays hovering over me, making me acknowledge exactly what is about to happen before he enters.
He pauses with his blunt tip pressing against my slick, aching entrance, waiting until I finally open my eyes and look up at him.
"Say my name, Fiorella," he demands, his voice tight with his own restraint. "Not the one your brother calls me."
"Angelo," I sob, my nails digging into the leather of the jacket beneath me.
He enters me with a single, slow, devastatingly deep thrust. My head falls back against the jacket as I gasp, my internal muscles instinctively clenching tight around his massive girth.
He stays buried deep inside me, completely unmoving for a long heartbeat, forcing my body to stretch and adjust to the sheer size and blistering heat of him.
The connection feels entirely biological, a brutal melding of two warring bloodlines right here in the dirt.
He leans down and bites hard into the sensitive skin where my shoulder meets my neck, muffling my sharp cry with his mouth.
"Dio, you're so tight," he groans, his breath hot against my collarbone.
"Don't... don't stop," I beg, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist to lock him inside me.
He begins to move. The rhythm is agonizingly slow and grinding.
It’s a heavy, deliberate pace that forces me to feel every single inch of his thick cock sliding against my slick, swollen walls.
He’s not looking for a quick, animal release this time; he’s actively looking to break my mind.
With every deep, stretching thrust, he murmurs bitter, filthy truths right into my ear.
He talks about my corrupt family, about the blood debt, about how much I fucking love the pain he gives me.
He laces his thick fingers with mine, pinning both of my hands flat to the floor beside my head, rendering me completely defenseless against his assault.
"Does Alessio touch you with this much truth?" he taunts, grinding his hips down so hard I feel it in my spine.
"Shut up," I cry out, tossing my head side to side. "Just... move."
Angelo shifts his weight, pulling my legs up and hooking my knees over his broad shoulders to angle me higher.
He drives in even deeper, hitting a spot inside me that makes my vision entirely white out.
The angle is intensely punishing, forcing me to take every inch of him.
He’s absolutely relentless, his endless endurance a brutal testament to his years as a street enforcer.
My entire world narrows down to the slick point of contact between our hips, the dark bunker ceiling blurring out of focus as my pleasure aggressively peaks.
He reaches down between our bodies, his rough thumb finding my swollen clit and pressing hard, moving in a cruel, perfect circle.
"Look at me when you break," he orders, his eyes locked onto my face.
"I can't... I can't breathe," I sob, my chest heaving as the orgasm starts to rip through me. There is no Fiorella Silvestri left. Just this screaming, wrecked animal underneath him.
The pace drastically quickens as he senses my climax hitting.
His thrusts become infinitely harder, faster, totally primitive.
The loud slap of his skin against mine echoes violently in the small bunker.
I find myself helplessly meeting his chaotic pace, my hips bucking wildly up off the floor to meet every brutal downward drive.
My pride is completely incinerated in the heat of my own desperate need.
I arch my back so sharply my toes curl, my breath hitching in a rapid series of broken, high-pitched whimpers.
"That’s it. Give it all to me," he snarls, his face contorting with his own nearing release.
"Angelo... please, now!" I scream, completely unhinged.
I shatter. The climax is violent and infinitely prolonged, completely taking over my nervous system.
I am left gasping and sobbing uncontrollably as my inner walls convulse violently around his thick cock.
Angelo doesn't let up for a second; he continues to drive relentlessly into me, riding the massive wave of my orgasm, his face a hard mask of primal focus.
He watches me fall completely apart, his dark eyes fixed intensely on my face as if memorizing the exact aesthetic of my absolute defeat.
I reach up and rake my nails hard down his broad back, drawing blood that smears wetly against the concrete floor.
"Mio. You’re mine," he roars, his hips locking down against mine.
"Yes... yes," I sob, totally surrendering to the madness.
Angelo groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates intensely through my chest cavity.
He thrusts violently one last time, pinning my hips to the floor with his full, crushing weight as he finishes deep, hot, and heavy inside me.
He holds me securely there, his large body rigid, his heart hammering erratically against my ribs like a kick drum.
The silence that follows the storm is absolute, broken only by our loud, synchronized, heavy breathing filling the cramped space.
He drops his heavy head, burying his face directly in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and ragged against my flushed skin.
"Don't move," he orders, his voice completely wrecked. "Stay right here."
"I couldn't... even if I wanted to," I whisper, staring blindly at the ceiling. He’s finally still. Like a tornado that just ripped my house apart and is now resting quietly in the wreckage.
We remain securely joined for several long minutes, the powerful aftershocks of the orgasm continually rippling through my exhausted muscles.
Angelo slowly pulls his hips back, the wet sound of his withdrawal loud in the silence.
But he doesn't create any distance. He stays hovering closely over me, his hand moving to the back of my head to stroke my damp, tangled hair with a surprising, almost haunting tenderness.
I am far too spent to move an inch, my limbs feeling heavy and totally leaden against the floor.
He leans down and presses a soft kiss directly to my forehead, a deeply intimate gesture that feels infinitely more terrifying than his violent anger.
"You’re a good student, Fiorella," he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheek.
"Bastardo," I breathe out, closing my eyes. I genuinely don't know if the tenderness is the lie, or if the violence was.
Angelo eventually sits back fully, adjusting his clothes.
But he immediately reaches down and pulls my naked, shivering form tightly into his side.
He wraps his thick arms securely around me, cocooning my body against his chest, shielding me completely from the biting cold of the underground room.
He reaches out and pulls the heavy edge of his leather tactical jacket over both of us, creating a small, dark tent of shared, humid body heat.
I rest my heavy head against his broad shoulder, my eyes finally drifting shut as the crushing physical exhaustion wins the battle.
"Sleep. I’ve got you," he rumbles, his chin resting on top of my head.
"Don't... don't let them in," I whisper, practically delirious. I am willingly sleeping in the arms of the man who massacred my security detail. And I have never felt safer.