Unholy Intent

by Natasha Knight

  I meet his eyes. They’ve gone dark. I roll onto my stomach, my elbows on the bed. I look at the closed door as I think about what he did the last time I was in this position. But this feels different. He’s not angry.

  He tugs the string of the panties. I shudder as he peels them down over my hips, my legs. Off my feet. I look back when he spreads my legs apart and stands between them. I watch him look at me, watch him crouch down behind me and open me.

  I don’t know what this is. I should pull away and make him take it from me. But I want his eyes on me. And his hands on me. And his mouth on me. And him inside me.

  “You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, dipping his tongue between the wet lips of my pussy, licking the length of me before drawing back. “My beautiful little virgin.”

  I gasp and turn away when he puts his fingers on me and smears my arousal up toward my other hole, circling that too.

  “And you’re all mine.”

  Keeping one hand on me, he stands.

  When I hear the buckle of his belt and the unzipping of his pants, I turn again.

  His eyes are on my ass. He pushes his pants and briefs down, and I lick my lips. He’s hard. And big. And my pussy clenches in anticipation even knowing it’ll hurt. Knowing I’m still raw from earlier.

  He rubs the whole of his hand over my wet pussy, then takes his dick in that hand, rubbing it, looking at me as he pumps his cock.

  “Put your fingers on your clit.”

  I don’t hesitate. I slide my hand between my legs, spreading my legs wider and rubbing my clit.

  “Fuck.” He watches, pumping his cock. “Don’t come yet. I want to watch your fingers work.”

  He’s tugging harder and watching him is making me wetter, so wet it’s dripping down my thighs.

  “Are you too sore to be fucked?” he finally asks.

  My breathing is already shallow, and my pussy is greedy for him. I shake my head.

  “I won’t be gentle this time. I can’t. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I don’t want him to be gentle.

  “Tell me now, Cristina. Tell me to go or tell me to stay, but if I stay, I’m going to fuck you hard.”

  My hips buck at his words. I’m going to come soon. “Stay,” I croak.

  “Good girl.” With that, he bends his knees as he lifts my hips a little. He’s tall, and even though the bed is high, it’s not high enough. Tilting my hips up, he pulls my cheeks apart and glides into me, my passage wet, lubricating his cock as he pushes slow and deep inside me, filling me up all the way. He groans, leaning over me, hands on the bed on either side of me as he holds still for a long minute.

  “Your cunt is so fucking tight.”

  I rub my clit as he draws out and starts to fuck me just like he said, hard and fast and just on the edge of painful. It won’t take long for me to come.

  He moves one hand to my ass cheek, eyes almost black when he closes his thumb possessively over my asshole.

  “You’re beautiful like this,” he says, voice hoarse. “Open and so fucking beautiful.”

  He shifts one hand, placing it over mine as I play with myself and all I hear are the wet sounds of our fucking, of our combined breath, of my whimpers.

  “I’m going to come.” My voice sounds breathy and I close my eyes. “Oh god, I’m going to come.”

  “Fuck,” he draws the word out as I come, my walls throbbing around his cock, pulsing, milking him until he lets out a groan and stills inside me, gripping a handful of my hair in his fist. His entire body tense.

  All I can think is how beautiful he is as I feel his cum inside me, feel him filling me up.

  And as much as I know that Liam is right, that he has a weakness for me, I’m doubly sure I am as weak for him. In spite of everything, I am weak when it comes to Damian Di Santo.

  11

  Damian

  We’re lying in her bed, Cristina still asleep. Her head is on my bicep, hands curled between us.

  Last night when I walked in here and saw her wearing my sweater, I don’t know what the hell I thought. I liked it, though.

  After the debacle downstairs, I didn’t know what to expect when I got up here. I know, though, that my sister paid her a visit from her question.

  Sneaky Michela. What the hell are you up to?

  Cristina mutters something, burrowing closer.

  I look down at her.

  She fell asleep before I finished cleaning her up last night. Passed out probably from the whiskey and the fucking.

  The thought of that fucking stirs my dick.

  She’s perfect. Her body ready and wanting, her fingers eager to get herself off. Although maybe that’s because she was drunk. Pretty sure, sober, she wouldn’t so readily play with herself on my command.

  But maybe she was trying to deflect my attention, too. It worked, if that was it. She was doing something when I walked in here. Crouched by the bed. I have no idea what, but she looked guilty as sin. I make a mental note to have a look around later.

  I pull the blanket up over her shoulder. Her hair tickles my chin as she stirs, then sets her cheek against my chest with a quiet sigh.

  I don’t remember the last time I slept with a woman. Fucked, yes, but never slept with. Either I leave or they leave when I’m done with them. And I’ve never brought one home.

  Not that Cristina would be here if she had the choice. I’m pretty sure she’d choose to be anywhere but here.

  She’s moving again, waking up slowly. Her brain is probably trying to process the foreign entity in her bed.

  I grin. I’m looking forward to seeing her face when she sees me upon opening her eyes. When she remembers what we did. What she asked for.

  I keep my hand on her hip. I can’t fuck her this morning. I’m pretty sure she’s raw after last night. Maybe I’ll get her off with my tongue before I let her out of bed.

  As if on cue, her body tenses. I feel her eyelashes flutter against my skin as she blinks once, twice. Then seems to stop breathing altogether.

  Here we go.

  She bolts upright, wincing either from a sore pussy or a headache from the whiskey. Probably both. She looks at me accusingly, tugging the blankets to cover herself.

  “Hey, don’t be greedy,” I say casually, tugging some of the blanket back.

  “What the hell are you doing in here? In my bed?”’

  I look at her, then let my gaze slide over her. One leg is free of the blankets, and it’s like she realizes at that moment she’s naked. I watch as the memories flood back, and I smile.

  “There is no my bed or your bed anymore, sweetheart. There’s only our bed. We’re married, remember?”

  “Get out!”

  “Not what you were saying last night. Come here.” I put a hand over her lap and make like I’m going to pull her to me.

  “Get away from me!”

  Sitting up, I lean toward her and brush her hair away from her face. “You invited me to stay last night. Don’t you remember? You rolled onto your belly and spread those beautiful legs and begged me to fuck you.”

  Her face burns beet red. “I didn’t beg you. I just…I was drunk. You took advantage.”

  “Do you remember how hard you came on my dick?”

  She remembers and she’s embarrassed so instead of answering me, she turns away. “What time is it?”

  I check my watch. “Ten.”

  She looks over at me, down at the outline of my erection beneath the blanket, then quickly up at my face.

  “Look, whatever happened last night, I was drunk, and it’s done. We’re not doing that again. There’s no need. Your family even saw the sheets. Marriage is consummated. End of story.”

  “No, not the end of the story. We will definitely be doing it again. And what’s more, you want to do it again. Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart.” I push the blanket off and stand up fully naked.

  Her gaze drops to my dick, which is hard, a state it is getting used to being around her.


  “I’m not your sweetheart,” she says, trying to avert her gaze.

  “You can look. I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Come on. We’ll take a shower, then go down to breakfast. I’m sure you’re starving, and you’ll want something for your headache.”

  “I don’t have a headache, and I’m not showering with you or eating with you.”

  “You eat with me, or you don’t eat.”

  “I hate you.”

  I turn to walk away. “Not what you were moaning—”

  She throws the pillow at the back of my head.

  I grin, picking it up as I turn back to her.

  “I wish I had a rock to throw at you,” she says.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” I toss the pillow back to her. She catches it, and I turn to go.

  “Did you know that part?” she calls out before I get to the bathroom. “That they’d parade the sheets around?”

  When I look back at her, I’m not grinning anymore. “It’s not a big deal. It’s done, and it’ll keep you safe.”

  “So, you did.”

  “My family’s traditions need to be honored.”

  “Just say you knew, Damian.”

  “I knew, Cristina.”

  “You could have warned me.”

  “And what would that have done?”

  “What if I wasn’t a virgin? What would you have done then?”

  “Punished your uncle.”

  She looks confused. “What?”

  “A part of the rules.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He was responsible for you until I came to claim you. So those eight years your father bought, the burden of raising you and keeping you…intact…rested on your uncle’s shoulders.”

  “Then why did you want to have that doctor check me?”

  “Because I’m sure you had boyfriends he didn’t know about.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “He got paid, of course.”

  “The apartment renovations and our lifestyle. That was all you?”

  I nod.

  “He did it for money?” Her face falls. “My own uncle betrayed me for money?”

  “There was more. He wanted custody of his kids. I assured that.”

  “How?”

  “I have some influence.”

  “They’re with my aunt now, though. Simona is, at least, and Liam on weekends.”

  “Our agreement lasted until your eighteenth birthday.”

  She looks away, shaking her head. “This is crazy.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I walk away then, into the bathroom, and switch on the shower. I take a piss while the water warms up, then step under the stream of hot water.

  When I’m finished, I wrap a towel low around my hips and walk out into the bedroom. She’s still sitting on the bed, but she’s got a robe on and is hugging her knees to herself.

  “Go get showered and ready. I’ll wait for you.”

  “Are they all going to be down there?”

  “Probably not. But you’ll need to get used to being around them. I told you, you’re safe now.”

  “How am I safe? I don’t understand.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed and look at her. Even after the night she’s had and hungover like she is, she’s pretty. But she needs to eat. She’s already lost a couple of pounds since being here.

  “Did you hear what my father said to my brother?”

  “That because of some rules he can’t touch me.”

  “That’s right. No one can. You belong to me. You’re my wife. My property. Only I can touch you.”

  “What year is this? Did we go back in time, and I’m not aware?”

  I adjust the robe at her breast, tugging it closed, tugging her closer. “It’s what will keep you safe. Just like with those men at the party. They won’t touch what’s mine. If they do, they know there will be war.”

  “Your brother kissed me on the mouth.”

  My jaw tightens. “And he won’t do it again.”

  “And all because you married me? Because I’m your property.” Her eyebrows rise so high on her forehead they disappear behind her bangs.

  “It’s an issue of territory. We don’t fuck with each other’s territories and when it comes to my family, it’s…tradition.”

  “So you married me for my own good.” She says it mockingly, but she remembers my words from a few nights back.

  “That’s right.”

  “Should I thank you?”

  I smile. “That’d be a good start. Should I show you how you can thank me?”

  She smiles too, a wide, sarcastic thing. “If you mean by sucking your dick, you can be assured I will bite it off.”

  “Ouch. I thought you liked my dick.”

  “I wouldn’t put my mouth near your dick.”

  “I wonder how hard you’ll come when I put it in your ass.”

  Her mouth falls open, and I can’t help but laugh outright at her expression.

  “Fuck you, Damian!” She swings her legs over the bed and stalks toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I’m still laughing when I hear her drag the chair that was in there, and I realize what she’d done with it. She must have it lodged under the doorknob since there’s no lock on the door.

  Good girl.

  I get up, walk to the bathroom door. “So, does this mean you don’t want me to wait on you for breakfast?”

  “Go choke on your breakfast, prick!”

  12

  Damian

  Although I need her to eat, I’m too stubborn to send food up after telling her she won’t eat unless she eats with me. Maybe I’ll take her something later as a peace offering.

  I’m sitting at the breakfast table with my second cup of coffee when Lucas comes strolling in. He pauses for a second when he sees me, making a point of looking around as if he thinks I’ve hidden Cristina somewhere, I guess.

  Dickhead.

  His hair’s wet, but he hasn’t shaved. There’s a five o’clock shadow across his jaw on the undamaged side of his face.

  “Where’s your wife?” he asks, taking a seat and lifting the napkin onto his lap. From the table settings, I know Michela and Bennie have already eaten, but my father’s place remains untouched. Elise always sets the table like this even though my father hasn’t eaten breakfast down here in years. I’m pretty sure Michela only does because of Bennie. She will have driven him to school two towns over where she’ll pass the time shopping or sitting at a café for the few hours he attends kindergarten. She has never let any of the soldiers take him. Ever.

  “She’s not feeling up to seeing the family.”

  “I don’t blame her after last night.”

  Studying him, I look more closely at what the plastic surgeons have been able to do. After the accident, almost the whole of one side of his face was burned away. Now, the damage is less, but he’ll never look like he used to before the accident. Like me.

  Strange to think of that. That this mirror image of me has changed so drastically.

  “Get a good look?” he asks, lifting his gaze to mine. Elise pours him a cup of coffee when she enters.

  She smiles at him. She’s always favored him. I think it’s because he’s the one father had groomed to take over the business. Loyalty to the next generation so she wouldn’t lose her position or some shit.

  She tried to ingratiate herself to me when it became apparent I would be the one to take over, but I wasn’t buying her bullshit. I don’t forgive and I never forget.

  Why do I keep her here now, though? So she knows my hand is the one that feeds her. And it’s the one that can choke her.

  Not that she’s worth the effort.

  “How many surgeries have you had?” I ask him when she’s gone.

  “Lost track,” he says, sipping his coffee.

  “Why did you leave?” Lucas left the house after Annabel’s death. I didn’t realize he wasn’t coming
back until he didn’t. And I can’t put my finger on what I felt at his abrupt departure. I mean, it opened things up for me, but I didn’t like it. Hell, maybe it was guilt at being in the driver’s seat that night. Or guilt that what happened to him was so much worse than what happened to me.

  What happened to everyone was so much worse than what happened to me.

  Elise returns to place a plate of food in front of Lucas. He waits until she’s gone to answer me.

  “Why did I leave? I was only staying for Annabel.”

  Guilt again.

  Fuck.

  I look away, putting my cup down. I couldn’t swallow if I tried.

  “You break everything you touch,” he says.

  “I loved our sister.”

  “You still broke her.”

  Gritting my teeth, I shift my gaze back to his, making sure I mask any emotion.

  “You’re going to break her too.” He gestures upstairs.

  I don’t breathe. I just listen to my heartbeat against my chest. Slow and steady. Under control.

  “Unless she breaks you first,” he adds with a grin.

  “My wife is not your concern. Just make sure you stay away from her. You know the rules.”

  “I do,” he says, his tone letting me know he won’t be subject to them. “You want me to tell you I’ll keep my hands to myself? Will that make you feel better?”

  Bastard.

  I choose not to engage.

  “Now that you’re home, you’ll be going back to work for me.” I shift conversation toward business. Those are the rules too. The family comes first. That means the family business. We all have to chip in and the days of Lucas getting a free ride because of that goddamned accident are over.

  “And what would you have me do, Brother?” he asks, the distaste in his tone not so subtle.

  “Keep an eye on the Clementi brothers. I don’t trust them.”

  “Why not get rid of them?”

  “I need you to manage them. Watch them closely. That’s all.”

  “Is it because the old man was your godfather? Please don’t tell me you’ve become so sentimental, Brother.”