CHAPTER 18 #3
He lowered his head and took my mouth. It wasn't the violent, teeth-clashing collision we had in the woods.
This was a deep, consuming, bottomless hunger.
He tasted like iron, salt, and pure desperation.
His tongue swept into my mouth, mimicking the heavy rhythm of what was coming.
He pulled back just enough to suck hard on my lower lip, the rough stubble on his jaw burning my chin.
"Open for me."
"Angelo..."
I arched my back off the mattress, digging my heels into the old fabric and lifting my hips to meet his heavy weight.
I twisted my wrists out of his grip, tangling both my hands deep into his short raven hair to drag him back down to me.
My mouth slid against his with a wet, desperate friction, the sound of our combined moans filling the silent room.
"More," I gasped against his lips.
"As much as you can take."
His hands dropped to my waist, his thumbs digging ruthlessly into the soft flesh of my hips. He anchored me to the bed, the bruising pressure a promise. He dragged his wet tongue slowly down the line of my throat, pausing right over my racing pulse point to bite gently.
"You're mine tonight."
"I've been yours since the ball, you bastard," I admitted, the truth ripping out of me before I could filter it.
I was feral. I didn't care about my brother outside, I didn't care about the hit squads, I didn't care about my last name.
Guided entirely by blind instinct, I wrapped my right thigh completely over his hip, drawing him perfectly into the cradle of my body.
The friction of him sliding against my slick center was agonizing.
It was a slow-burn torture. I rubbed my nose against the side of his neck, inhaling the heavy, intoxicating musk of his sweat.
"Please."
"Not yet," he growled, holding himself back with visible effort. "I want you to feel every second of this."
Angelo shifted his hips, aligning himself perfectly at my entrance.
The blunt, testing pressure of him pushed against my heat, tight and incredibly demanding.
He paused right there on the brink, hovering.
He reached up, his hand surprisingly steady, and brushed a damp lock of hair off my sweaty forehead.
"There's no going back after this."
"I don't want to go back."
He drove his hips forward, sinking into me with one prolonged, brutally deliberate push.
He filled me completely, stretching me until I felt I was going to tear.
We both let out a ragged, simultaneous groan, the profound relief of the physical connection hitting us like a shockwave.
It was an aching, heavy, perfect fit. He dropped his weight onto his forearms, burying his face deep in the mess of my hair beside my ear. His hands were actually trembling.
"Puttana... you're so tight."
"Shut up and move, Angelo."
He pulled back and drove in again, establishing a steady, punishing rhythm. Each thrust was incredibly deep, purposeful, and heavy. He reached up and gripped the rotting wooden headboard above us for leverage, the wood creaking and snapping dangerously under his sheer physical strength.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick and wrecked.
I opened my eyes, locking onto his dark gaze in the shadows. "I'm looking. I'm not going anywhere."
I arched up to meet every single violent downward thrust, my fingernails biting half-moons straight into the scarred skin of his heavy shoulders.
I wrapped both of my legs tight around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back so he couldn't escape if he tried.
I surrendered entirely to the blinding heat, my voice rising into a series of broken, breathless cries that echoed off the damp tarp.
"Harder."
"I'll break you, Fiorella," he grunted, his hips snapping forward with devastating force.
"Do it."
Our breathing synchronized into harsh, jagged, overlapping pants. The friction was a wildfire, burning away every rational thought in my skull. The tension coiled tight in my stomach, spiraling higher and sharper with every slap of our bodies until it hit the breaking point.
With one final, crushing thrust that drove me completely into the mattress, I shattered.
A violent, screaming climax ripped through my body, blinding me with white-hot pleasure.
I clamped down hard around him, my nails tearing down his back.
Angelo roared out my name, his entire massive frame locking up as he followed me over the edge.
He bit down hard on the side of my neck as he poured himself into me, his body shaking uncontrollably with the sheer force of his release.
"Fiorella!"
"Angelo... please..."
He collapsed entirely, his heavy, sweat-slicked frame crushing me into the bed.
He didn't pull out. He didn't move away.
He just buried his face in the crook of my neck, his chest heaving as our heartbeats thundered against each other like a drumline.
He reached out with one clumsy, exhausted hand and dragged the heavy wool blanket back up over our tangled, shivering bodies.
"Don't move," he muttered into my skin.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Sleep, little ruin."
I let my eyes fall closed, the smell of sweat, sex, and rotting wood filling my lungs. I was trapped in a shack with a killer. I was hunted by my own blood. I was exhausted, bruised, and completely wrecked. I pulled the blanket tighter around us and went to sleep.