After three hours in the air, I get the message that it’s over. It’s been handled. Everyone is all right, including ‘the blonde Signorina’.
“Do we turn around, sir?” asks the pilot.
I think for a moment, then I shake my head. I need to see her with my own eyes. I need to put my hands on her. I need to know that she’ll cope. My fucking shit is damaging her and the fear that it’s beyond repair itches in me. There’s a reason I haven’t brought her home yet, even though I could have done that a couple of days ago.
It’s not the basement. It’s not the restoration of the house.
I simply don’t know what to do with this woman. I don’t know where to go from here. It’s pathetic. It’s not like me. Still, it’s the ugly truth.
It’s fucking far, flying to Sicily. I’ve done this journey plenty and I’m used to it. The little village has been my sole source of peace and quiet over the years. There’s good food, the pace is slow, and the nights are quiet. Today, though, it seems to take forever. The sun rises over Paris, with the Eiffel Tower as a dark silhouette. When we land, we’ve fast forwarded into the next day.
My phone finally reconnects and I have dozens of missed phone calls. Most of them from Chloe. A few from other numbers I don’t know. The text messages come popping, flickering over the screen. They calm me somewhat. The men are lingering in the village. A house has been burnt to the ground. No one is hurt. I’ll rebuild it of course. This is my shit that struck these people. I won’t let them suffer more than they already have. If there’s something I’ve come to appreciate, in a brutal crash course this last week, it’s having roots, somewhere to land where you don’t have to play a role.
There are people everywhere. I step out of the car in the middle of the square and wave for a man to come to me, asking for the blonde Signorina. At home, he says.
I walk. It’s not far. Tension rises in me. I could have called her back once my phone connected, but I didn’t want to hear her voice. I need to see her.
The old, chipped wooden door once painted blue, the color now faded by the harsh sun, is unlocked and I slam it open.
Chloe stands in the kitchen, wearing a flowery little dress that ends mid-thigh. Alessandra crouches before an open cupboard, her back to me. Both spin around when they hear me. Chloe’s mouth falls open and she widens her eyes. I gesture for the other girl to disappear.
“Out!”
She twitches and flees out the door without a word. Chloe stands as if glued to the spot. I kick the door shut and stalk toward her, then I grab her hips and lift her up on the counter, crashing my lips to hers as I mold her body to mine.
“Mine,” I growl.
Chloe
The sucking feeling in my stomach when Luciano Salvatore barges into the little cottage almost makes me double over. I jump when he growls for Alessandra to leave, gasp when he slams the door closed, and then it’s just us. I’m transfixed by his heated gaze as he strides toward me.
I’m still high on adrenaline from yesterday and haven’t slept even one minute. I took long walks in the dark. The lights were on in most houses and I counted many insomniacs last night. My insides itch and I’m filled with restless energy that has had no release.
Luciano doesn’t waste a second, he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t ask permission. Crushing me to him, wedging his body between my thighs, he claims my mouth as his hands grab my hips, slide to my ass and press me against him. His cock grows hard, making sparks of desperate need shoot through me.
“Mine,” he growls, almost like an animal. The back of my head hits the cupboard, but I barely feel it.
“Yes,” I gasp and tear at his shirt, pulling it up over his head, and oh my God, he’s beautiful. He’s strong, totally biteable, filled with danger and heat.
His hands slide up to my waist, grabbing the fabric of my dress and pulling at it. “Get out of this, or I’ll tear it.”
A whimper escapes me as heat rushes to the pit of my belly, to between my legs where his cock presses insistently against my pussy through the obstacle of too much fabric. I lift my butt slightly and clutch the hem of my dress, pulling it up over my head in one move, tossing it on the counter next to me. Goosebumps race across my thighs as he slides his hands along them, a deep rumble in his chest.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“Oh, you’re gonna pray, girl.” He takes a step back and in the next moment he’s pulled off my panties. I slam my thighs together on pure instinct. Luciano tsks and pushes them apart. I can only draw shallow breaths as his hands stroke the insides of my thighs, his touch soft, teasing, all the way up to my pussy. My stomach clenches when he caresses along my nether lips, parting them. “Oh, you’re wet, you bad girl.”
The only sound that escapes me is an incoherent mewl when he falls to his knees and puts his mouth to my already aching flesh. He licks along my slick seam, pushing his tongue inside, then replaces it with a finger as his tongue progresses up to my clit, flicking it, circling, rough, demanding, unrelenting.
“God,” I cry, bucking, gripping his hair, pulling him closer.
“Say my name,” he growls, adding another finger, thrusting deep, pumping in and out, his mouth latching onto my clit.
I tense, my heart wild as every nerve cell seems to focus on what he’s doing between my legs. “Good God!” I grit out, panting, clutching his hair harder, pulling his head to me, rocking my hips.
He grazes my clit with his teeth, making me jump. “Say my name!”
“Luciano!” I almost weep, arcing, trembling. He doesn’t stop, he buries his face in my pussy, rubbing his fingers against a spot that makes me jerk hard. “Stop,” I gasp. “I can’t!”
When did he ever? He doesn’t stop. Instead he pushes a finger against my other entrance. Slick with my juices he thrusts inside without hesitation. I clench up on instinct but he is relentless, his tongue on my clit, pumping his fingers in both my holes. The first spasm makes me jerk up and then I almost fall off the counter when I come completely undone in a series of convulsions that leaves me gasping, screaming out my pleasure. My thighs shake and I can’t control my body, but Luciano grabs me and carries me to the couch. I wrap my legs around his waist and bite down on the bulging muscle where his neck meets his shoulder.
Dropping me on the couch, he tears open his pants, letting them fall to the floor along with his boxers. His eyes narrow as he looks me over with eyes so hungry, so dark that they make my heart flutter. He stands before me naked, his cock thick and hard for me, the muscles in his powerful thighs flexing, his large hands clenching and unclenching.
“You are going to regret that,” he says in a low voice, dangerously calm, controlled, tentatively touching the red mark on the side of his neck. His words set me on fire. His gaze, following my curves from my still trembling eyes, to my pussy, belly, breasts, neck and back up to meet my eyes, scorches me and makes every patch of skin ache for more of his touch.
My stomach clenches and my heart rate picks up. I’m crazy as a bat, but I say it before I regret it. “Maybe I need to be punished?”
I didn’t think his eyes could get darker, but danger just took on a whole new meaning. “Come here,” he says and takes a step back. “Bend over.” He points at the armrest and I shuffle off the couch, trembling, frightened, ablaze.
Standing before him, meeting his gaze, holding it a few seconds, I then turn and present my ass to him. He puts a hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me forward until I fall. I clasp my hands together as if in prayer, burying my face between my arms.
I jerk when I feel his hand on my ass, but he doesn’t slap it, instead he strokes it tenderly. “Did you kill a man yesterday?”
“Two,” I say with a shudder.
“You bad girl!” His hand bears down on my skin and the sharp sting makes me cry out.
“How did it make you feel?”
I hesitate. “Scared.”
He slaps me again. Harder. I groan, gritting my teeth against the burn
ing sensation that replaces the sting.
“You should be scared, Chloe. You’re in my world now. It’s a scary place.”
“Mm-hmm!” I cry out when he slaps again, making me shoot forward.
Luciano grabs my hips and pulls me back, connecting his palm with my butt again and again. I twist and jerk and try to move away, but he’s got me pinned against the couch. “I did not ask you a question.”
“You’re just making excuses to spank me,” I gasp.
I twitch when he slides his fingers along my drenched pussy lips, rubbing up and down. “I don’t need excuses. I do as I fucking please.”
I groan, my legs shaking as I bury my face in the cushion. Suddenly, he thrusts his fingers inside me.
“Did it only make you scared?”
I mewl. I can’t speak! I scream when his hand bears down on me again.
“Tell me!”
“No!” I cry.
“Did it turn you on?”
“No!”
“Then why are you so fucking desperate for me to fuck you all of a sudden?”
Goosebumps race along my back, from where my skin burns on my ass all the way up to my scalp. “I’m not,” I pant.
He slaps me again. “Bullshit! You’re grinding against me like a bitch in heat. Did it turn you on to finally get the upper hand? To be the one who came out victorious? To not be the victim anymore? Did you think of me when you slaughtered those men? Did you wish that axe was planted in my back instead?” His hand connects with my ass again. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“I—”
There’s nothing I want more in this moment. I want to feel that long, thick cock penetrating my pussy, spreading me wide. I want to feel the sting of his brutal intrusion. I want this man so fucking bad that I think I’ve lost my mind.
He slaps me again. “Tell me!”
“Fuck me, you monster!” I scream.
“You want my cock?”
“Yes!” I almost weep as I grind against his hand, his fingers still thrusting in me.
“Here?” He pushes so deep inside that I jerk forward.
“Mmm—yes!”
Luciano pulls out his hand and grabs my hips, putting the head of his cock against my entrance. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Chloe Becker, that you won’t be able to stand for a fucking week.”
In one thrust he pushes all the way inside, filling me, stretching me wider than anything I’ve felt before. I lose my breath as my pussy clenches against the intrusion. “God!” I squeal.
His hold on my hips will bruise me, but I can’t tell pain from pleasure as he begins to pound into me without mercy. “Touch yourself,” he pants. “Put your hands between your legs. You’re going to come, or I’ll spank you again, and I won’t stop even if you beg me. I’ll stop when my arm gets tired. And I don’t tire easily.”
His threat makes my pussy clench. I can barely make my arm cooperate as I obey and put my fingers on my clit. I’m pushed and pulled, my skin rubbed raw against the rough fabric of the couch.
“Don’t take that hand away.” He pulls me up and lifts me, his cock buried deep inside me, spinning us around, pushing me against the wall. His hand comes up and grabs around my throat, pulling my head back against his chest. I swallow compulsively against the pressure. It’s uncomfortable, it’s frightening, and it’s pervertedly erotic. “I’ll never let you go.” He thrusts deeper, rougher, squeezing my body between his and the wall.
I’m getting nowhere. A rush of fear runs through me at the knowledge that I can’t stop this. I can’t say no. I gave in, and he will take me until he’s satisfied. The realization makes my pussy spasm and I arch in his hold, rocking against him, urging him to go faster, harder.
“I have killed, Chloe. These hands have murdered more people than I can count.” He squeezes tighter around my throat, making me squirm, renewed fear flaring up in my chest. “Does it turn you on?”
In some fucking way it does, but I shake my head. It’s too perverted.
His grip tightens and he thrusts so deep that I squeal. “Say it!”
“No!” I silently plead with him not to ask. I can’t say it. It’s sick. It would make me sick.
“You’re a fucking liar.” He pulls out and steps back. I fall to the floor, limbless, my hand still between my legs. Looking up, I take him in as he towers over me. “Do you know what I do to the liars in my ranks?”
I can barely breathe. Tears well up in my eyes as I shake my head. “Please,” I whisper.
“Get up.” He grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet, dragging me across the room. With one sweep of his hand, he clears the kitchen table, sending a pile of plates and a vase with flowers crashing to the floor. “Lie on your back.”
I’m so fucking afraid that I can’t move. My heart slams a staccato and my breaths come in short gasps.
“Lie on your fucking back.”
I twitch to life. I don’t dare to disobey. “Luci,” I whisper.
His eyes narrow as he looks me over.
“I—” I try to remember how to inhale. “I’m afraid.”
He puts an arm around my waist, pulling me to him, crashing his lips against mine. He holds my gaze with his as he claims my mouth, forcing his tongue deep. Before I know it, I clutch his cheeks and pull him closer, drowning in his scent, his touch. Then I push away, and he lets me. My hands still cup his cheeks.
“It scares me, it turns me on, and I’m not right in the head, because I want you so fucking bad right now.”
He strokes my cheek, down along my throat, past my collar bone, then he snakes his hands behind my back and unclasps my bra, pulling it off me. Lowering his head, he takes a nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, making me tear at his hair as I whimper. His hand finds my other nipple, rolling it, pinching it.
“You’re killing me,” I moan, arching, trying to pull away, but he’s not having it. He pushes me down on the table and climbs up to tower over me.
“I’m gonna take you. All of you. You’ll never deny me again.”
A surge of heat rushes through me at the possessiveness in his eyes, at the raw hunger. “Then do it.”
Chapter 30
Chloe
Luciano, or maybe he’s Salvatore tonight, bends my body to his will. With his hands, his tongue, and cock he makes me come over and over, but refuses to give himself his release until I plead with him to let me take him in my mouth. I can’t take any more. He’s ruthless. He’s not tender. I don’t think he knows the word. But he makes me soar. Over and over.
Finally we fall asleep in a sweaty heap of limbs. I’m sated, aching, and still needy in a confusing mess of feelings I can’t even begin to sort.
I don’t know how to meet his desperate needs. I don’t know how to find the man behind this raw facade. I know he’s in there. I see it fleetingly in his gaze. There is longing in him that makes my chest clench with a need to take him in my arms and hold him until he truly knows that it’s going to be all right.
But will it ever?
Can I sate his thirst?
Will he sate mine?
I wake from a featherlight touch on my cheek. When I open my eyes, I look right into his.
“How are you?” he asks.
I wish he hadn’t asked. I wish I hadn’t woken up. Everything aches. My arms and shoulders ache from swinging that axe. My pussy and my thighs ache from letting Salvatore have his way with me last night.
I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. He chuckles.
“I’m honestly pretty broken too. I couldn’t get enough of you.” His hand slides from my cheek, a finger tracing my jawline, pushing down the blanket in its path along my chest, to my breast. My nipple peaks as he circles it, flicks it. “I meant to ask how you’re coping, though. Killing people can be rough.”
My heart skips a beat and I try to feel. There’s no hesitation when I give him my answer. “I feel like I finally won. I feel strong. If it ever came to that, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
His face lights up. “You’re definitely not a good girl. Is that Chloe, or is it Christine talking?”
I purse my lips as I hold his gaze. “I don’t know anymore. Maybe neither of them ever was a good girl.” I throw my head back and moan when he pinches my nipple hard. “You know what I definitely am, though?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
The air between us thickens and it gets harder to breathe. I put my hand on his chest and stroke along his belly, down to his cock that is already thick and hard.
“I’m really horny.”
I circle my fingers around the base and stroke him. Up and down. Then I sit up and straddle him, putting the head to my pussy, sliding it back and forth. I’m slick, swollen and achingly empty. I want to feel that delicious stretch again, I get goosebumps with the flashbacks from how he fucked me without remorse. He was like a machine, working me furiously until I cried with exhaustion. I got sore. I’m still sore. Still I want to feel him again.
I hold his gaze as I begin to sink down, letting him fill me. It aches. I almost can’t. When I hesitate he grabs my hips, his eyes never letting go of mine, then he slams me down on him and I cry out, the intrusion brutal, hurting, and still so fucking good.
Luciano doesn’t move, our bodies joined like one. With my heart beating like mad, I raise a little and sink down again, wincing.
“Hurting?”
I nod.
A wicked smile spreads on his lips. “Do you know where you’re not hurting?”
“I ache everywhere,” I whimper.
“Not everywhere,” he says. He lifts me off him with ease and drops me next to him on the mattress. “Don’t move.”
He stands and then disappears out of the room without another word, buck naked and with a raging hard-on. I pray Alessandra has had the sense to stay away. Luciano comes back with a bottle of olive oil. My mouth goes dry. I suddenly know where this is going.
“Oh, no no no.”
“I wasn’t asking,” he says. “Roll over.”
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