Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

"Go, Ivory."

"Where did you get that?" I snapped, ignoring the sympathetic way he stared at me. I knew Matteo well enough to know when he was protecting me, and that expression on his face was answer enough about where the doll came from.

"Everyone get the fuck out," he grunted, and the office cleared instantly. The door closed behind them, and Matteo strode to me and caught me up in his grasp. "He won't touch you," he murmured, as if it would distract me from the missing doll. One of his security people had snatched it up as he fled the room, no doubt the one who messed up and brought it into the house.

"Teo," I whispered, feeling raw in the face of the way that doll made me skin crawl.

Hefting me up into his arms, I barely protested as Matteo car

ried me over to the couch and sat with me in his lap. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent there and letting it comfort me.

The thing about Matteo for me?

I couldn't be near him and not want him.

Ever.

It was why I kept my distance from him. I knew I had zero self-control where he was concerned and being pressed up against him—feeling him harden beneath me as I straddled his hips—only proved that the feeling was mutual.

Nothing should have been sexy in that moment. Not after being given a creepy doll and lingerie from a man I'd given no indication of interest.

But Matteo was a different story.

He always had been. I pulled out of his neck, crashing my lips to his in a torrent of need. His hands worked my dress up my hips as my hands went to the zipper of his trousers.

I wanted him.

I needed him.

And in that moment, I would not question it.

I needed the reminder I was alive.

Not just a thing to be used and discarded, but a real, live person with feelings and thoughts. I needed to exist, and Matteo was the greatest adrenaline rush I'd ever had.

I freed him from his pants stroking him as he shoved my panties to the side. Rising, I notched him at my entrance and slammed down onto him so hard he groaned. "Easy, Angel."

He knew as well as I did that taking him, even with foreplay, wasn't an easy feat. Taking him with no preparation after zero sex for two days was just plain foolish.

But I needed that pain, the feeling of being ripped open from the inside.

I needed my body to match what he did to my heart. To my soul.

I needed him to understand what he did to me, and I wasn't foolish enough to think I'd ever hurt Matteo the way he hurt me. He'd have to have a heart for that to be possible.

His hands at my hips tried to steady me, but I swatted him away and rocked my hips back and forth quickly. I knew my pace was frenzied. I knew I was acting like a crazy person as I used him, but I couldn't be bothered to care.

Eventually, he settled, seeming to sense that I needed exactly what I was taking. He put his hands back on my hips and slid them up and under the fabric of my dress, not stopping or encouraging me so much as just wanting the contact with my skin.

I chased my orgasm, loving the way my clit rubbed against his pubic bone in that position, and feeling like maybe, just maybe, for one moment I was in charge of something. My hands on his chest steadied myself as I exploded into an orgasm, trembling around him and feeling him find his own release inside me.

I didn't let the intimacy of our simultaneous orgasms touch me. Not the way it normally did.

As soon as I caught my breath, I stood and smoothed my dress back down. "Ivory," he whispered, reaching for me. Something in my expression seemed to make his own darken.

I knew what he saw as he looked at me. Something I expected I hadn't been able to achieve since the moment he came back into my life.

But in that moment?