CHAPTER 14 #2
Angelo wraps his arms around my thighs and lifts me clean off the ground.
My legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he slams me backward.
The freezing bite of the concrete wall hits my spine, shocking my system against the absolute furnace of his body.
I kick my discarded silk slip away with one foot, completely unbothered by the cold floor.
"Don't you dare let go," I gasp.
"Is it cold, Fiorella?" he taunts, pressing his hips into mine. "I want you against the stone."
He doesn't even try to undress me properly.
He grabs the torn shoulder strap of my ruined slip and yanks.
The silk sighs and rips completely down the side, leaving me bare to the icy air.
His hands are everywhere—rough and calloused, mapping my skin.
He fumbles with his heavy belt buckle with one hand, his other palm branding my hip, keeping me pinned.
The heavy rattle of the metal echoes in the room.
"This dress is garbage," he says. "Look at what you're becoming. Stay still."
He pauses for a single, agonizing heartbeat.
His dark eyes bore into mine, checking to see if I’m going to flinch or back out.
I don't. I dig my nails deep into the thick muscles of his shoulders, leaving angry white crescents in his skin.
He aligns himself at my core, the blunt pressure of him making my breath hitch in a jagged sob.
"Look at me," he orders. "Are you ready for the ruin? Don't close your eyes."
He drives inside me in one long, punishing thrust that forces a sharp, breathless cry straight from my lungs. My head thumps hard against the concrete wall, but I deadass do not care about the pain. It’s a total claim. He fills the massive void Alessio left with something heavy, real, and absolute.
"Angelo!" I cry out, the sound bouncing off the walls. "Stronzo... finally. Take it all."
I pull him closer, locking my ankles tightly behind his lower back.
I want the friction to burn. I want him to literally fuck the memory of the villa out of my brain.
I bite down hard on his shoulder to keep from screaming too loud, the salty taste of his sweat instantly coating my tongue.
The wet slap of skin against skin fills the tight space.
"Harder," I beg, panting. "I want to forget everything. Make me yours, bastardo."
He sets a relentless, brutal pace. Every thrust is a declaration of war against the Silvestri name. His hands slide up to grab my hair, wrapping the dark, matted locks around his fist to tilt my head back, exposing my throat. He bites my collarbone hard, leaving another angry mark.
"I’m erasing him," he grunts, his breath hot against my wet skin. "He doesn't own this. Tell me who you belong to."
I gasp his name, my voice breaking. My fingers scratch wildly down his spine until they catch on the thick waistband of his jeans.
"Make them bleed, Angelo," I whisper fiercely between thrusts. "Kill the Silvestri in me. Give me the fire."
His rhythm goes completely frantic, his rigid control snapping at my words.
He grips my hips with bruising, terrifying force.
His movements are erratic and powerful. We bump hard against the metal sink beside us, the jarring clang ringing out over our heavy breathing.
The stinging heat in my core builds to an agonizing peak.
"I’ll give you a mountain of bodies," he promises, his jaw clenched tight. "You’re a weapon now. Almost there, Fiorella."
He suddenly demands I look at him, letting go of my hair to frame my face with both his massive hands. He wipes a droplet of sweat from my forehead with his thumb, never once slowing his punishing pace inside me.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice thick. "Who am I? Say my name."
"Angelo," I sob, staring right into the eyes of my personal devil.
I shatter first. The release is violent and completely unhinged.
My body convulses hard around him, my toes curling sharply against the small of his back.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck to muffle my screams. My vision spots with bright white light, totally obliterating the bunker from existence.
"Angelo! Cazzo!" I cry out. "Oh god... I’m falling."
He chases me over the edge a second later.
He drives in one last time, deep and unyielding.
A guttural groan tears from his throat as he spills inside me.
He totally collapses forward, pinning me flat against the freezing wall with his massive weight.
He exhales a long, shaky breath right against my ear, his muscles trembling wildly.
"Mina," he whispers, his voice totally wrecked. "Stay right there. You’re mine."
We stay locked together for a long time, the silence stretching out while our breathing slowly syncs back up.
The sweat cooling on my bare skin sends shivers through me, but I don't move.
He doesn't pull out. He just rests his head heavily on my shoulder, supporting my weight against the wall.
His hand comes up, surprisingly gentle, to stroke the damp hair away from my face.
"The princess is gone," he murmurs. "We move in an hour. Don't move yet."
I lean my head back against the concrete, staring blankly down at the ruined, discarded silk pooled on the dirty floor. I reach down with the tip of my bare toe and tap the black duffel bag he brought in. I am ready.
"Help me dress," I tell him, my voice completely steady. "We have a family to kill. No more silk."