Chapter 5 #2
"I broke into your building." He takes a slow step toward me, towering over me. "I hacked your cameras. I commandeered your life. I’m not a good man. I’m a soldier who’s forgotten how to be anything else."
"I’m aware." I hold my ground. I do not take a single step back.
He stops mere inches from me. The heat radiating off his large body is a physical weight. "Then run. The door is right there. Go up to your apartment. Lock the door. Pretend you never met me."
He is offering me an out. But the tight clench of his jaw tells a different story. If I walk out that door, he will simply stand guard outside it for the rest of his life. He is giving me the illusion of choice, while already having decided that I belong to him.
I press my palm flat against the center of his chest, over his ink.
The slab of muscle jumps beneath my touch.
"I'm not running." My chin tilts up. I meet his stare head-on. "I rebuilt my life once after your enemies burned it down. I'm not giving up my peace. And I'm definitely not giving up my clinic."
"Your clinic is currently a target."
"Then you’ll just have to kill anyone who walks through the front door."
The shock that flashes across his face is priceless. Nico Costa, the terrifying mafia killer, is momentarily rendered speechless by a curvy woman in torn lace and nothing else.
I step fully into his space. My scent drifts upward, tangling with his harsh, tactical scent. "You tore my blouse. You ruined my schedule. You left me frustrated on a metal table. You owe me."
A deep, primal sound builds in the back of his throat. A sound of surrender and total possession.
"You are out of your mind," he says.
"Probably." I slide my hands up his torso, avoiding his injured shoulder, and wrap my arms around his neck. "Are you going to kiss me, or do we need to schedule an appointment?"
His restraint snaps.
It is a violent, beautiful destruction.
His hands grip my waist. He lifts me off the floor with no effort. The world spins in a blur of glowing monitors and shadows. He plunks me down hard onto the edge of the metal surveillance desk.
Keyboards clatter to the floor. Hard drives slide off the edge. He doesn't care. He steps between my spread thighs, his body pressing me back against the unyielding metal.
His mouth crashes down on mine.
There is nothing gentle about it. His lips are rough, demanding, hungry.
He parts my lips with bruising force, his tongue sweeping inside.
He devours me like a starving man offered a feast. I taste the salt of his sweat, the coffee he drank hours ago, the undeniable dominance of his entire existence.
My hands rake through the short hair at his nape. I pull him closer, matching his desperate energy. I have always been the composed one. The calm professional. The woman who suppresses emotion into organized boxes.
Right now, I want to shatter every box.
He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against mine. "You chose this. You chose me. There is no going back. You understand?"
"I chose you." I nip at his lower lip. "Now do something about it."
He yanks me close, his hands diving beneath the hem of his shirt. His calloused palms drag up my bare thighs, scorching my skin. He grips the torn edges of my ruined lace panties and rips them the rest of the way off. The fabric gives way with a sharp tear. He tosses the shreds into the darkness.
I am exposed to him.
He grips the edge of the metal desk. He drops to his knees.
The sudden change in height leaves me gasping. He is kneeling on the cold floor, his face perfectly level with my center. The pale blue light from the security monitors washes over his bare back.
He spreads my thighs wider, opening me up to his scrutiny.
"Nico—" The sassy comeback dies on my tongue. I am suddenly intensely vulnerable.
He looks up at me. His eyes are blazing with a possessive heat. "Mine."
He leans forward. His mouth presses directly against my wetness.
A loud, embarrassing moan rips out of my throat. My head falls back against the cold wall behind the desk.
He drags his tongue slowly, deliberately up the slick, swollen folds of my pussy. He tastes the arousal pouring out of me. He uses his thumbs to spread me open, ensuring he has total access.
His rough thumb locks onto my engorged clit. He circles the swollen flesh, applying a firm, torturous pressure that grinds directly into the nerves.
I thrash violently on the desk, my knuckles turning white as I grip the cold metal edges of the workstation. "God... Nico, yes."
He doesn’t stop. He maps my explicit physical reactions, learning exactly what speed makes me twist. He buries his face deeper between my thighs, wrapping his lips around my clit and sucking it hard into his mouth.
A visceral shockwave fires straight through my lower abdomen.
My hips buck completely off the metal, totally out of my control.
I try to clamp my legs shut, entirely overwhelmed by the raw intensity, but his massive hands lock onto my thighs, pinning my legs wide open to his mouth.
The deep vibration of his throat rumbles right against my wet pussy lips.
He pushes two thick fingers straight inside my pussy, aggressively stretching my tight, drenched walls.
"You’re so fucking wet," he murmurs against my skin. "So sweet."
He thrusts his fingers in and out of my pussy, mimicking the rhythm of a brutal claiming. His thumb continues to relentlessly assault my clit. The combination is devastating.
I am a physical therapist. I understand the mechanics of the human body. I understand nerve clusters and muscle contractions. But nothing in my medical training prepared me for the sheer, overwhelming devastation of Nico Costa's mouth.
The climax hits me with the force of a freight train.
My body goes rigid. My walls clench violently around his moving fingers. A loud, continuous moan tears from my throat as wave after wave of blinding pleasure crashes through my system. I milk his fingers, my hips grinding down against his face, chasing every last drop of sensation.
He swallows my release. He takes every shuddering contraction like it is a precious offering.
As the final waves of the orgasm recede, leaving me panting and boneless on the metal desk, he stands up.
He towers over me, shoulders rising and falling. His shirt is bunched at my waist. My skin is flushed, sensitive, wrecked.
He reaches for the buckle of his pants.
My gaze drops. He undoes the belt with a sharp snap. He unzips his fly and pushes the fabric down his narrow hips.
His cock springs free, heavy and rigid against his stomach.
He’s massive. A veined length of iron-hard flesh, standing tall and demanding against his sculpted stomach. A single drop of clear precum glistens at the blunt tip. He is rigid with a need that has been building since I walked into his crosshairs.
He steps into the vee of my legs. He grips my hips, his long fingers digging into my soft flesh, pulling me all the way to the very edge of the desk.
He notches the fat head of his cock against my wet, aching entrance.
The heat radiating from him is absolute. His scent fills the room.
He pauses. He holds himself there, hovering right at the precipice. The muscles in his tattooed arms are coiled tight. He is giving me one final second to brace myself.
"You’re mine, Priya." His voice is a rough, jagged edge in the dark room. "From this second forward. My woman. I protect what belongs to me."
"Then claim me." My voice is a breathless command.
He drives his hips forward.
The thick, blunt head of his cock splits me open. He pushes inside, sliding through my slick folds. He is so thick. The stretch is exquisite pressure. I gasp loudly, my fingernails biting into the solid muscle of his uninjured bicep.
He doesn't stop. He pushes deeper, filling me completely. He buries his entire length inside my body with one brutal, unrelenting thrust.
We both freeze.
The sensation is overwhelming. He is buried to the hilt. My walls stretch around him. A groan rips from him. His head drops forward, forehead against my collarbone.
“Fuck,” he grinds out. “You’re so tight.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles at the small of his muscled back. I tilt my pelvis upward, taking him even deeper.
His control snaps.
He pulls almost all the way out, the friction sending fire through my core, and slams his hips forward.
The loud slap of his skin against my thighs echoes in the surveillance room.
He establishes a brutal, punishing rhythm. There is no slow buildup. This is primal need. He thrusts deep into my pussy, grinding his pelvis against my oversensitive clit with every stroke.
My head thumps against the wall behind the desk. I am lost in the physical onslaught.
"Nico!" I cry out, my voice mingling with the harsh, slapping sounds of our bodies colliding.
"Take it," he snarls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. "Take all of it."
He moves like a machine. His hips piston with driving force. I feel the flex of his abdominal muscles against mine. I feel the rigid tension in his uninjured shoulder as he braces his weight. I meet every thrust, grinding my hips against his, consumed by the animalistic heat of his claim.