Scarred Regrets (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 5) - Page 32

Hers could beat for me, an echo of what should have throbbed within my chest.

She moaned into my mouth, lifting her arms to wrap around my neck. Those delicate fingers brushed against skin there lightly, gliding over the tattoo that crawled up the side of my neck as if she expected me to bolt at any minute.

The urge struck, but I used it to press her further into the elevator wall. Her lower back struck the support bar, her shoulders slamming into the metal wall as the elevator came to a stop.

Someone at the door cleared their throat, but Irina only dug her nails into my skin and pulled me closer. I failed to stifle my groan, dropping my hands from her face to her thighs and gripping her until I lifted her off her feet once again.

She wrapped those sleek, seemingly never-ending legs around my waist instinctively, shifting her hands from my neck to my face and holding me tight as I strode out the elevator doors. The people waiting hurried to get out of the way as I stumbled into the hall, pressing Irina against the closest wall and grinding myself into her pussy.

With only the fabric of her underwear between us and her dress hiked up so far that her ass was barely covered, I very nearly fucked her right there for all to see.

Let them know the woman was mine. She was off limits to every fucking pervert who might watch her as she came and went daily and dream of her when they went to their bed that night.

But Irina fumbled with her clutch, pulling the key for her apartment free and snapping some sense into the haze of lust that had consumed me. Sex had never been a necessary part of life, just another way to blow off steam—easily replaced with a good fight.

But the need to be inside Irina thrummed through every fiber of my being, threatening to obliterate everything I knew about myself, if I could only just find the way to her fucking door. “Left,” she murmured with a giggle as I stumbled, unwilling to separate from her long enough to watch where I was going.

Eventually, we stopped in front of her door and I took the keys from her hand. Holding her propped up with one arm wrapped under her ass, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Kicking it closed behind me, I sauntered through the apartment to the sofa where I’d watched her touch herself.

The moan she emitted when I dropped her onto the arm of the couch erased the last of my self-control. Her fingers went to the buttons on my suit jacket, seeming just as greedy as I was to get me inside her.

I shoved her hands away, spinning her to face the couch and pushing her down until her stomach rested on the arm and the toes of her heels touched the floor. She turned to look back at me in shock, her red lips parted and lipstick smudged, but I tore my eyes from hers to stare at the smooth expanse of her thighs.

I pulled her jacket off her shoulders roughly, barely giving her time to maneuver to help me in my urgency. Shoving the fabric of her dress up until it bunched around her waist, I leaned forward and sank my teeth into the curve of her ass where her thong left it bared to me. Moaning, she thrust an arm back and sank her hand into the back of my hair, pulling me closer and tighter to her skin.

As if she couldn’t get me close enough.

I pulled back, slapping her bare ass hard enough that I watched it jiggle from the force of it, and a pink hand print bloomed across her skin. Gripping her thong in my hand, I tore it down her legs until it caught around her knees.

With her legs pressed together, all I could see was the curve of her ass and the seam of her pretty little pussy glistening between her legs. My hands went to the fly of my slacks, sliding the zipper down and pulling myself free as I stared at her.

She waited, her body still and her mouth quiet for once as she watched me stroke my cock. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, that same apprehension she’d shown the first time she saw me making her face scrunch up.

I was playing with fire, pushing the limits of what my body could tolerate. Going so far beyond what was right when it came to my butterfly.

Because she still didn’t know the truth, and if I ever wanted her to look at me again, she never could.

I pressed my free hand down on her spine, pushing her upper body down and holding her so that I felt in control as I lined my cock up with her pussy. I slid the head through the wetness coating her, the ragged groan that left her when I bumped against her clit seeming to pulse straight to my balls.

A better man would have prepared her more. A better man would have touched her and made her mad with desire.

I lined the head of my cock up with her entrance, shoving through the resistance I met when her pussy clamped down against the invasion. She groaned again, a low sound that sounded more animalistic than human as I pulled back and pushed further in on the second thrust.

“Wait,” she said, her face scrunching into a grimace as she reached behind her to try to reach my chest.

There was a moment of panic when she reached for me, quelled only when I caught her wrist in my grip and pinned it to her back. Seeing her arched like that, her face pressed to the cushion of the sofa with her ass in the air and my cock sliding into her impossibly tight pussy, unleashed something inside of me.

I drove in harder, my hips slamming into her ass so harshly that the smack echoed through her living room. She whimpered, taking it all as her free hand dug into the cushion beneath her. I pulled back, watching her body shift when I drove back into her, setting a fast, harsh pace.

It wasn’t conscious, just the brutal rutting of a man who needed to mark his mate as his. And there was no doubt in my mind with the way her pussy clenched down on me perfectly that she’d been made for me in a different world.

If our lives had been different, I’d have spent the rest of mine buried inside her and filling her with my cum.

I slapped her ass as I fucked her, turning her skin pink with the assault that made her moan and groan with every strike. I’d always imagined my butterfly would be an innocent flower, but there was no denying the way her pussy reacted to my touch.

That she loved the brutality in the way I fucked her.

“Fuck, Butterfly. Quanto sei stretta,” I groaned as her pussy fluttered. She came on my cock, her desperate moans driving me along with her until my groan echoed through the room and I flooded her with my release.

I dropped my forehead to her spine, feeling the fabric clinging to her skin as I pulled my cock free from the vise of her body while she whimpered. My cum dripped down her thighs, glistening over her skin in a way I’d never seen before.

It wasn’t until she pushed herself to her feet and turned slowly with a pained grimace on her face that I realized what I’d done.

I stepped back, running hands through my hair as I looked at her disheveled body. At the damage I’d caused to the angel of Chicago. She leaned against the arm of the couch, folding over herself and wrapping an arm around her stomach protectively while she gave me a tiny smile.

“I hurt you,” I said, tucking myself back into my pants.

Fuck.

Tags: Adelaide Forrest Bellandi Crime Syndicate Romance
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