My head spun as heat tore up my spine. I liked the heavy press of his body, the intrusion of his fingers, the thin threat of violence lingering in the air.
I didn’t dislike this side of him entirely. I both loved and hated the dark creature who choked me and demanded my obedience. That was the problem, though, because that same creature would kill me if the mafia called for it.
“I don’t,” I breathed.
“This sweet pussy can’t lie.” His fingers crooked inside me, and I dropped my head back against the wall. “You’re fucking dripping for me, Emilia. The same way you always are.” His grip tightened, fingers digging into the soft skin of my throat. “You know why?”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the rabid craving he ignited in me.
His tongue dragged up my neck, hot and dangerously enticing. “Because this pussy is mine.” His thumb pressed over my clit, and my legs nearly buckled. “And that makes us so much more than just business.”
I met the smoldering blue of his gaze. “I…” I tried to muster a sliver of resolve, a grain of sanity. My hold tightened on his wrist, and he paused in his movements.
“Tell me to stop, princess.” Another nip beneath my ear, followed by a kiss that felt as though he was searing the sensitive skin of my neck. “Tell me you don’t want to come on my fingers.”
A beat of hesitation was all he needed to continue, and my hold slipped from his wrist. He fucked me with his hand, circling my clit, playing me so expertly.
“You can hate me all you like, Emilia, but don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend you don’t want this.” Another hard thrust and a moan broke past my lips. He kept pushing me higher and higher, winding me up like a toy. “That this isn’t what I do to you.” And then he nudged me over the edge.
My body tightened, pleasure ripping through me like a tsunami. I cried out as my legs shook, as he tore from me everything I had to give and all the things I didn’t want to. He was the storm, and I was a sapling having my fragile roots torn from the ground. He swept me up and ripped me apart.
His fingers remained inside me as I tried to find my breath and my dignity because God knew he stripped me of it and left me bare.
He slowly pulled out of me and then slid his fingers into his mouth. He sucked the taste of me from them before bringing them to my lips, dragging my come and his spit over them.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, as small aftershocks worked through my core. Gio leaned into me, sweeping my hair away from my face.
“That’s one part of our deal.” His hand slipped from my throat before he braced both palms on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me, caging me. “This is the part where you beg, Emilia.”
“You want me to beg for my brother’s life?”
He stared me down with that cold gaze. Cruel. Merciless. Powerful. That was it. He knew he had power over me in that moment because if he said no to this marriage, Luca was as good as dead.
“I want you to beg to be mine in every possible way.”
Power must be exchanged for power, and right then, I was on the giving end.
Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard, quenching all traces of my pride before sinking to my knees. “Please,” I said through gritted teeth.
Only days ago, he’d tried to kill Renzo, and now, here I was begging him to marry me in order to save my other brother from his violence. Life was suffering, though, and suffer I would. “Please marry me, Giovanni.” Opening my eyes, I glanced up at him towering over me, his palms still braced on the wall above me.
“You do look good on your knees, Emilia.” His fingers slid over my cheek before he fisted my hair roughly. His teeth gritted, the anger he rarely showed lighting his eyes. “But I recall having this exact conversation once before when you were begging for the life of a different brother.” His grip tightened, his body practically vibrating with strain. “Do you remember what I told you?”
I did. How could I not remember his crass words?
“I told you that I wanted submission, not sacrifice. That the next time you got on your knees, you would be willingly choking on my dick.”
I was nothing but a sacrifice to everyone. No, to anyone but him. To him, I was a challenge to be conquered. Giovanni Guerra wanted me to want him above all else. And I did, God help me, I really did. Could I submit in the name of sacrifice?
Holding his gaze, I lifted my hand, releasing his belt with shaky fingers. His eyes flashed with a feral edge that both scared and excited me. Giovanni Guerra was a man of charm and intelligence, of brutal control in almost all things. When it came to sex and violence, though, I’d come to realize he was one or the other. Controlled or feral. He was sometimes more beast than man, snarling and snapping against the restraint he tried to leash himself with.