Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fiero
Thirteen nights to go.
She’s standing at the podium scanning a customer profile when I pull back the curtain. Her lids lift as if all it took was my vibration crossing the threshold and she knew I was in the room. I walk with forced nonchalance in her direction, not stopping as I pass, but locking my gaze on hers.
“This way,” I growl, continuing across the room, feeling her lighter gait trail behind me.
I reach the exit for the elevators and punch the button. She arrives at my heel just as the doors hiss open.
“Get in.”
She does as I say and steps into the elevator, backing up against the wall. Her gaze roams my suited body, looking no doubt for the evidence I took a bullet in her honor. She won’t find any.
Not yet.
I’m dosed up on painkillers and so tanked up on intent, I ain’t showing a thing.
Her eyes flicker up to mine as the elevator climbs to the eighteenth floor. I focus on a spot above her head. I dare not look at her in case it weakens my resolve.
Feeling her body heat in the small space is torture enough. Her scent takes me back to the way she rode me, her forehead pressed against mine as her warm fragrance invaded my nostrils. It’s tipping my sanity onto its side.
As soon as the doors open I storm out onto the landing and slide a card across the lock. The door to the suite opens and I stand to one side to let her enter, still looking at anything but her face.
Once she’s inside, I seal the door shut and stalk across the room.
“Undress and get on the bed.”
Knowing I’m going to be sinking my entire length into that hot traitorous cunt has me harder than I ever remember being. She may need some warming up but she can do it herself.
She must detect something in my tone because she practically tears off her clothes and stands at the foot of the bed, trembling.
“Are you wet?” I bark, lowering my gaze to her for the first time since she stitched me up.
“I— um, I don’t know.”
“Touch yourself and tell me.”
She pushes her fingers between her legs and rubs but there’s no pleasure there. “I— a little.”
“Get yourself wet.” Anger is bubbling up my chest but I have no idea where it’s coming from. Is it anger at her or at me?
She rubs at herself but it’s forced, and a stricken look crosses her face. “I… it doesn’t feel right.”
Fuck.
I need to slow things down. I can’t just mount her like some wild animal. Her punishment will come when I’m deep inside her, when she can’t escape, and not when I’m tearing her dry pussy with my solid erection.
“Stop.”
She withdraws her fingers and wraps her arms around her middle.
I unbutton my jacket, slowly, my gaze resting on hers.
Heat unfurls across my shoulders when our eyes lock, until I have only a vague awareness that I’m stripping at an agonizing, leisurely pace, devouring each dip of her lashes to a new inch of nakedness.
When my boxer shorts hit the floor, I rest against the back of a chair and hold my thickening cock in one hand. Her eyes widen, taking in my length and girth. She’s seen it up close and personal, but perhaps never with the perspective of distance.
When she licks her lips, I almost lose it.
“Now touch yourself,” I grind out in a deep baritone.
She unlatches her arms and threads a hand between her thighs.
“Part your legs so I can see.”
She inches her feet out to the side giving me a better view of her fingers massaging the little nub that makes my mouth water. Her fingertips drag a slick gloss over the clit, emphasizing its dark pink ripeness.
A flare of chemistry tightens my gut, curling my tail bone. Sure enough, a pearl of pre-cum appears on the crown of my dick. I need to get inside this woman. At this point it isn’t even a desire anymore, it’s a need.
“Are you clean?” I bite out, not recognizing my voice.
She dips her gaze to my cock then lifts it, wide-eyed to my face. I get one short, sharp nod.
“I am. I never fuck without a condom,” I grind out. “Usually.”
A very small part of my conscience suggests I might want to wear one now, but true revenge can’t be felt through a sheath of latex. So that’ll be a no.
She swallows hard and I see it in her throat. She’s nervous. Good—she should be.
Dropping my gaze once more, her fingers are glistening. Watching me slowly jack off has made her wet enough.
“Lie on your back.”
The stern command jerks her chin up. She scoots back on the bed, lowering tentatively.
My cock strains inside my fist, praying that it’s time to sink into that mesmerizing, hot little pussy that’s been beckoning me since that first night.
When she’s completely horizontal, I crawl over her, still gripping my pulsing cock. If it were anyone else, I’d tell her to turn over so I could fuck to whatever vision filled my head, but I want to see her face when I stretch her apart.
This is the girl who broke me, who laughed when I fell to pieces, who took my traumatized teenage soul and shit all over it.
She will look me in the eye when I remind her of what she did and who she really is, and that fifteen years later, the Bellucci don—Il Diavolo Sovrano—owns every fucking inch of her.
I hover over her body, inhaling the nervous energy rising off her in waves. Her eyes are still wide, understandably.
“It’ll fit,” I assure her.
I’m careful not to touch her with my hands, instead nudging her thighs apart with a knee. Then I settle between her legs and angle the head at her entrance. Her knees clamp against my outer thighs.
“You need to relax,” I clip.
She breathes in long and tight, exhaling only a marginally more relaxed breath. I don’t know why she’s so tense. She came apart all loose and languid the other night and she’s worked herself up nice and wet tonight.
I try to push her legs apart again with a knee but she reflexively returns them to my outer thigh. It makes it very hard to angle my cock at her entrance.
Growing impatient, I dig my knees into the comforter and ram them outward forcing her legs apart, spreading her pussy for me. That scent floats up again making me heady with an insane lust.
“You ready to take me, cucciola?”
Her eyes are still wide but blinking rapidly. “Y-yes,” she stammers.
Everything I’ve planned to say is right there on the tip of my tongue.
The second I’m seated deep inside her I’m going to tell her exactly who I am, remind her exactly who she was, and make it abundantly clear that I’m not inside her because I desire her, but because I want to fucking break her. Just like she did me.
The crown of my cock finds her entrance and she sucks in a breath.
“I said, it’ll fit.” My voice comes out in a deep, carnal growl. I’m taking what I’m owed, what I deserve, what I’ve earned.
I push in an inch, pausing to catch my breath. It’s fucking happening. Everything I’ve dreamed about since I turned thirteen is happening right here and now. I’m sliding my dick into Pfeiffer McAllister.
It was every teenage boy’s wet dream, but I’m the one she’s panting for. I’m the one her legs are spread wide for.
God, she’s so warm, and tight, and perfect.
A heated flush rises up my throat, making me dizzy with the need to slide all the way in. But I want to savor the feeling of sinking into her, the feeling of owning her inch by inch, breath by breath.
I thrust in another inch, my lids falling closed at the sensation.
“Oh God, Pfeiffer.”
Wet, pathetic sentiment falls from my lips. Words that might give the impression I’ve waited an entire lifetime for this. But I don’t care. All that matters to me right now is this moment, these sensations, the way time slows with every small thrust I make.
I glance down at her face and her lids are wide open, like she can’t believe I’m actually inside her—like it’s some kind of alien sensation.
In a beat though, it’s not just her face I see.
A vision of my kid brothers flashes before my eyes.
Tears. Hands clapped over their mouths. Dogs sniffing at my matted hair.
Memories drench me like a tidal wave, followed by the sound of my brothers’ pleas to bring me back from the place I withdrew to.
I disappeared from them in every way a person could. Then I allowed myself to be used and molded by a psychopath into an enforcer of the worst possible kind.
I was no longer a brother. I was a monster—a devil. All because of her.
My gaze finds her eyes, watery and wide. I lock onto them, torn in half by the insanity of finally being inside the girl I used to want more than anything, and the need to deliver a blow that will ruin her.
Remo’s tears still haunt me. I saw them once, and never again. He hasn’t shown any emotion since. She doesn’t know what she robbed us of.
Well, she’s about to find out. With a final surge of resolve, I piston my hips and ram all the way inside her. A gush of warmth envelopes my cock and seizes my brain cells.
I’ve done it.
I’m balls deep inside my first crush, my nemesis, and my head is spinning. The words I was supposed to say have disappeared. They were right there on the tip of my tongue but the headiness of being at one with this woman is overwhelming.
Her mouth has fallen open and she’s panting fast. I know I’m big but no woman has truly struggled to take me. Not like this.
In a stroke of madness, I drift my lips over the tip of her nose.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes shut tight. “I… um… I’m…”
I wasn’t prepared for her to fucking hyperventilate. “Pfeiffer, what’s wrong?”
She releases the words on a rush of air. “It’s my first time.”
My mind blanks and my pulse thumps against my temples. What did she just say?
I must have misheard. “Say that again?”
Her eyes remain squeezed. “I’ve never had sex. This is my first time. I—I’m a virgin.”
The room tilts as I process this meteorite of information.
Fuck. Me.
I just took her virginity.
That’s what the warmth is around my cock—it’s blood. I just tore through her hymen like the mindless fucking beast I am.
But it doesn’t make any sense. She’s the same age as me—twenty-eight—and she’s goddamn gorgeous. How can she still be a virgin at twenty-eight?