Noise came from the passageway, a knock on what sounded like a neighboring door. Then Salvatore called out for Ricardo. Ricardo removed his mouth from her breast and stared down at her, making her heart pound. She didn’t want him to leave, but Salvatore kept knocking, calling for him.
Ricardo continued to stare at her, his expression now pained. “I hurt a loved one,” he whispered. “Please make me forget.”
She reached for his face, wanting to forget about her past too—her horrible life with the D’Angelos. She cupped his cheeks and pulled his face down, brushing her lips over his.
He slipped his arms underneath her again, this time rolling her on top of him. She straddled him, pushing his cock back inside of her, his groan so loud that the knocking stopped. Bianca stilled on top of him, realizing Salvatore must’ve heard.
Ricardo grabbed her ass. “Ride me,” he ordered, his tone authoritative, the violet color of his eyes darkening with lust.
Wanting it too, she started moving on top of him, feeling him deep inside of her. He flung his head back and groaned her name loud. Footsteps headed past the room, slowly petering out, Salvatore finally leaving.
Ricardo raised his hands to her breasts. “I can feel your tits, but not the bed beneath me. I don’t understand that.”
Dominic’s words crept in, making her feel uneasy. Was Ricardo lying to her like he had with Ghita, making her believe he could feel her? But why would he need to? He’d taken her, not the other way around.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, trying to will Dominic’s words out of her head.
“Never,” Ricardo rasped out. “I don’t ever want you to stop.” He moved his hands to her hips. “Ride me hard.”
“Dio, you undo me,” she exhaled, knowing she couldn’t say no. Even if he was lying, she still felt every inch of him, and right now, she wanted to be selfish, to take what she wanted—his beautiful body.
She started riding his cock, groaning as it rubbed against her clit. She didn’t know how long she did it for, her sense of time disappearing. She was living in the moment, in the pure pleasure of Ricardo.
Needing skin to skin, she lay down on him. She started grinding against him. Ricardo wrapped his arms around her again, his breathing coming out raspy. Without warning, he rolled her onto her back and pulled out. He then flipped her onto her front and pushed her legs apart. He penetrated her from behind, filling her to the point of pain. He started fucking her hard, making her cry out, pain and pleasure now merging into one. “More!” she cried, the pleasure winning over.
He picked up his pace, growling on top of her, slamming his cock into her body, hurting her more now—but she didn’t want it to stop. She needed the pain, needed to feel all of him. The pressure inside of her started to climb, building up with each slam of his cock, each invasion of her body, the man taking her over, claiming her mind, her soul, her heart, giving her pleasure like she’d never felt before.
He reached round and grabbed her throat, his grip almost choking her. He could kill her without even knowing, but instead of scaring her, she found it thrilling. She was so fucking close to death with him, yet she’d never felt more alive.
He slipped his left arm underneath her stomach and yanked her body against his as he continued to fuck her. “No one’s allowed to touch you but me,” he growled out. “Because you know I’ll kill them.”
He lowered his hand to her pussy and started rubbing her clit, while growling obscenities into her ear, the man having the dirtiest tongue. He picked up pace, pumping her harder and faster. It set her off, sending her over the edge, the intensity beyond what she could handle. She screamed her orgasm out, not caring who heard, only concerned with the pure ecstasy racing through her body. Ricardo pulled out and pushed her onto the bed, roaring as he came over her back. It almost felt like he was marking her, claiming her as his own, something no man had ever done before.
He slumped onto the bed and hooked an arm around her, dragging her to his side. He kissed her head and mumbled something as she started coming down, her mind too hazy to take it in. He mumbled something else, his large hand smoothing her hair down, making her feel loved. Smiling, she closed her eyes, falling asleep in his arms, feeling the happiest she’d felt in a very long time.
12
Ricardo woke to a body pressed against his side and blonde hair splayed across his chest. He looked down at Bianca, still stunned that he could feel her: both her touch and warmth. He didn’t understand how it was possible, especially since he couldn’t feel the bed beneath him. He’d also taken a double dose of his medication, which should’ve left his mind numb. But there she was, her body blissfully heating his, and his mind reveling in it. What they did last night—it was beyond anything he could describe. It was pure ecstasy taking a woman and enjoying her instead of pretending to. It had been hard with Ghita, because he didn’t like deceiving her, but she would’ve been hurt if he’d told her he’d felt nothing while having sex with her.
His mind clouded over, anger bubbling up at the thought of Ghita’s murder, but not enough to wreak havoc, which didn’t make sense. She’d died, yet he hadn’t hurt anyone, whereas he’d gone psycho over Bianca’s assault. One woman dead, the other still alive.
It wasn’t as though he loved Bianca—
He cut the thought off, knowing it was a lie, because he’d never stopped loving her. But he hadn’t been with her for over a decade, so he shouldn’t be feeling this way. She wasn’t the same person he’d fallen for—she’d changed. Yet, how could he not love her, especially with her pressed against his side, making him feel for the first time in eight years. Maybe it was because he had some sort of connection to her, his body recognizing her touch while ignoring others. Or maybe it was spiritual. God could be giving him a second chance, forcing him to become a better man for her.
He exhaled loudly, knowing his line of thought was absurd, especially since she brought out his bad side. It was Bianca who’d set him off last night, causing him to lose his mind and hurt Vinnie. He wasn’t blaming her, that rested solely on his own shoulders, but she was like cocaine to him. The rush felt fucking fantastic, the feeling addictive, but ultimately she was going to ruin him.
Voices came from the passageway, sounding like Anna and her husband talking. His sister said something about a meeting—
Ricardo’s gaze shot to the clock by the bed, the red digits flashing 11.00 A.M. Merda! He’d slept in. He needed to shower and get ready for the meeting, because no matter what he’d done—he wasn’t relinquishing control. He looked down at Bianca again, knowing that he would be a better Don without her. Therefore, he needed to distance himself from her, so he didn’t hurt anyone he cared for again.
Gently, so as not to awake her, he slipped out of bed. The role of a lover wasn’t for him, the title of Don was, which meant he would avoid her, something that would be best for both of them. She deserved a normal man, not a vicious killer. His jaw set, knowing it was even more important to keep away from her, because if he’d gone into a rage while she was with him, he could’ve hurt—or even killed her, and there was no way he could allow that to happen.
He picked up his towel and wrapped it around his hips, stopping to look at Bianca one last time. A sadness enveloped him—loneliness setting in once more. He didn’t want to leave the room. Walking out that door was so simple to do, yet it was also the hardest thing.
Angry with himself for being weak, he turned away from her. He had one role and that was to protect his family, and he would do it, instead of wallowing in self-pity, something he despised.
He went to the door and opened it a fraction. The passageway was empty, allowing him to slip out of Bianca’s room and head quickly to his. As he turned the door handle, his eyes went blurry. He swayed, a sudden bout of dizziness swamping him. He placed his hands on the door to steady himself. It flung open, his weight pushing him forward, sending him crashing to the floor.
A female voice cried out. He rolled over, seeing t
he maid from yesterday rushing towards him. He didn’t know what she was doing in his room, didn’t care either, his mind too hazy to understand anything. She took a hold of his arms and helped him up, the woman surprisingly strong. She steered him to the bed, asking him what was wrong. He didn’t reply, more concerned with his blurry eyesight. His surroundings were merging together, the disorientation making his stomach lurch. He closed his eyes as the maid pushed him down on the bed, willing himself not to throw up.
“What’s wrong?” the woman repeated.
“Drugs,” he said, realizing it was probably the double dose affecting him. Lisa had warned him this would happen, but he’d been too upset over hurting Vinnie to listen to her. “Overdosed,” he muttered. “Need the antidote.”
“Where is it?”
“Bedside cabinet.”
He heard a drawer open. He looked over at the maid, her face going in and out of focus. Still disorientated, he looked down, seeing the needle go into his arm, the woman not asking how to do it like Bianca had. He didn’t care how she knew what to do; all he cared about was that the churning in his stomach was easing and his eyesight getting clearer. Then... His eyes widened in wonder. He felt the woman’s hand pressing against his arm! It was different from Bianca’s touch, more surreal, because he could also feel the bed beneath him. He’d never used the antidote before, never had to, because he’d always done what Lisa had told him.
The new sensations sent his mind spinning, making him moan, the sensory overload taking over mind and body. Even the cool air coming from the air-conditioner felt exquisite, sending chills up his flesh. He ran his hand over his stomach, stunned that he could sense his own touch. His palm brushed his cock, making his eyes widen even more. He could feel his cock hardening. He ran his hand over it again, awestruck as it twitched underneath his palm. He may have touched himself in his youth, but after eight years of his cock feeling nothing, he’d forgotten how good it was to stroke himself.
The maid let out a shuddering breath. “You are stunning.”
He barely heard her, his sense of touch dominating everything. He closed his eyes and moved his hand up his body, reveling in being able to feel his stomach, his chest, his Adam’s apple, and the stubble on his face without it being dulled down. He moved his hand to his hair, amazed that he was registering its texture.
Someone started speaking in a language he didn’t understand. It just made the experience even more surreal. This had to be a dream.
Soft flesh touched his lips, making him think of Bianca kissing him. Not understanding what was happening, he laid there, completely overwhelmed. At the back of his mind, he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t care. He kept his eyes closed, terrified it would all disappear if he opened them, that it was a figment of his imagination. Maybe he was dreaming, still lying next to Bianca. She was kissing him, taking him, making love to him.
Her hands ran down his body, removing the towel, then something wet licked up his cock, making him jolt, the sensation amazing. A moist pressure enveloped his cock, moving up and down his shaft, sucking on it. He moaned again, mumbling how good it felt. He had to be dreaming, because this couldn’t be real.
The wet warmth disappeared, then a weight pressed down on top of him. He didn’t move, too confused with what was happening. A female voice said something, then a tongue pushed inside his mouth. Bianca, he thought. It must be her. He remembered they’d kissed last night, their tongues dueling with each other.
A firm grip took a hold of his cock and pushed it inside of something warm and tight, the ecstasy jolting him out of his haze, making his eyes shoot open. He jerked in shock at what he saw. The maid was on top of him, still dressed, minus her panties. He was naked, the woman using his body for her own pleasure, her face ecstatic as she moved his cock in and out of her.
A yell came from the doorway. He looked across at it, finding Bianca standing there, staring at him in horror. His heart fell; full comprehension hitting him hard.
He shoved the maid off him and jumped off the bed, telling Bianca it wasn’t what she thought. She turned and ran. He went to follow, but fell over his own feet, his body not used to feeling so much all at once. He hit the floor, yelling out, the pain foreign to him.
The maid ran over to him, speaking too fast for him to understand, his mind still not right. She tugged at his arms, forcing him to stand. Her fingers were bruising his flesh while her nails bit into his muscles. He pushed her away and stumbled out of the room, not caring—or even registering, that he was naked. Someone gasped down the passageway. He saw a male servant staring at him in shock, the young man who had a crush on Salvatore. Ricardo ignored him and pushed into Bianca’s room. She was standing by her bed, anger and hurt clouding her eyes, twisting her beautiful face.
“You made love to me last night!” she screamed at him. “Then I wake up and you’re not here. Instead, you’re off fucking another woman.”
He grabbed a hold of the cabinet, still not in full control of his body. “It’s not what it looked like.”
“Your cock was inside of her!”
“My mind was elsewhere.”
“Do you even hear how ridiculous that sounds?”
“It’s the truth. I OD’d. She gave me an antidote. I don’t know how, but it triggered something, made me feel, but my mind couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know I was having sex, I still don’t know what the fuck is happening. None of this can be real.”
“Yet you’re here talking to me.” She waved her hand up in the air. “Just get out! Go fuck your puttana, because you’ll never touch me again.”
He pushed away from the cabinet and stepped towards her, making her back up.
“Get out!” she yelled.
“I’m not lying.”
“All you men lie. You probably even lied about feeling me, like you did with Ghita.”
He flinched, her words hurting him. He didn’t know how she knew he’d done that to Ghita. It shamed him. “I did feel you,” he finally said.
“Obviously it wasn’t much of an experience if you ditched me for another woman.”
“You were wonderful.”
“Nothing but bullshit comes out of your mouth. You’re a heartless bastardo who obviously finds it amusing to play me for a fool.”
“I—”
“Get out!”
He exhaled, knowing she was too upset to believe anything he said. It was probably for the best anyway. He couldn’t have her; she drove him even crazier than he was.
Without another word, he left her room, heading back to his. The maid was lying on his bed, now naked, her figure stunning, power rippling through her tight body ... and he didn’t give a fuck.
“Leave!” he snapped, angry with her.
She sat up. “Let me finish you.”
“No! Leave now. You’re fired.”
She jumped out of bed. “Why?”
“You took what wasn’t freely given.”
“You were moaning,” she said, appearing surprised, “and you didn’t stop me. I thought you wanted it.”
He breathed in and out, forcing himself to stay in control, but it was fucking hard. He gripped onto his head and bobbed down, willing himself not to explode, the antidote now working against him. He needed his medication, but he couldn’t take it, because Lisa had told him he had to wait a day after taking the antidote, or else he could die from the overload.
“Honestly,” the maid said. “I wouldn’t have touched you if I’d known you didn’t want it. Please don’t fire me, I need this job. I promise not to overstep my role again.”
He let go of his head and pushed back up, the sincerity in her voice calming him down a fraction. She was probably right, because he had been moaning, but regardless, the woman couldn’t continue working as his maid.
“You’re still fired. I can’t have a maid interested in me. I’m a job, not a free ride.”
She walked up to him, her face pleading. “Then let me take another job. I can cook. I’ll
work in the kitchen. Just don’t fire me; I have nowhere else to go.”
He didn’t need this merda now. He had to be at the meeting soon. “You can stay as long as you get out of my room.”
Relief crossed her face. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Now!”
She grabbed her clothes, quickly pulling them on. Ignoring her, he headed for his clothes cabinet, knowing today was going to be bad.
***
Bianca sat on the bed with her head resting in her hands. Last night had been beyond anything she could’ve wished for, pure heaven, but now she wished she’d never experienced it. What Ricardo had done hurt more than all her husband’s punches, and for him to deny fucking the woman after she’d seen it with her own eyes ... was unbelievable. Yet, she still wanted him, the years they’d spent apart not having quelled her feelings for him. Regardless, it didn’t matter, because she didn’t deserve to be treated like this. So, as soon as she could, she would leave, then maybe she would start thinking with her head instead of her heart—or her pussy, because the man fired her up in ways no one else ever had. Maybe she didn’t love him, maybe it was all lust...
She breathed out, knowing she did love him. When she fell in love, it was for life. Still, she’d lost him once and survived—and she would do it again.
She pushed off the bed and went for the door, poking her head out to make sure Ricardo wasn’t around. The maid he’d been fucking was leaning against the wall next to his room. She had her head bowed, appearing deep in thought. She glanced to her side, noticing Bianca. A smile formed across her lips, though her eyes looked hard and nasty. She pushed away from the wall and sauntered towards Bianca, her gait cocky. She stopped in front of her and held out a hand. “My name’s Isis,” she said.
“I don’t give a fuck what your name is,” Bianca snapped, wanting to hit her. She’d fought for men before, drawn her claws, and right now she felt like fighting this woman for Ricardo. But she wouldn’t, because the lying, cheating bastardo wasn’t worth her time.
Ricardo Page 12