Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

Serafina shook, her legs starting to give in.

“Hold on to the wall,” I ordered, and she complied without protest, leaning forward, her forearms braced against the rough façade, golden hair curtaining her face as she glared down at me while I ate her pussy. My teeth grazed her clit lightly, and she jerked, a small moan slipping out.

I brushed the inside of her knee and pushed. She parted for me until she stood with her legs in a V over me. I tilted my head up, my hands curling over her hips and firmly pulled her down on my mouth and sucked each fold lightly before I closed my lips around her clit. She started rocking against my face almost desperately, and I complied with her silent demand by practically burying myself in her pussy, lapping at her, diving into her tightness, sucking. Then her lips parted, her brows pulling together in shock and astonishment, and she tensed.

My eyes drank in the expression on her face, the wild abandon of passion on her perfect features, the shock, the resignation, the delight. Possessiveness wasn’t one of my character traits, because I owned everything that mattered, but seeing Serafina in the throes of her orgasm and knowing I was the first man to give it to her, I felt fucking possessive. She was mine, body and soul, and would be until I decided to set her free.

I smirked against her as her pussy throbbed. After another long lick, I leaned my head back against the rough stone and licked my lips. Realization filled Serafina’s eyes, and her face twisted with horror and shame.

I smiled darkly. She shook her head, stepping back, tugging at her skirt until it covered her pussy again.

I stayed on the ground, my cock throbbing in my pants, my chin coated with her juices, and my body swelled with sweet triumph. “Run, Angel. Run from what you’ve done,” I murmured with a dark smile, and Serafina did. She whirled around, blond hair whipping through the air, and stormed away.

No one knew better than I did that you couldn’t run from what you’ve done.

I pushed to my feet, wiped my chin with the back of my hand, and set out to find my angel. She’d received pleasure; now it was time she gave something back.

I wanted nothing less than every last part of her. Her innocence, her heart, her soul, her body. Her purity and her darkness.

I would take everything.

CHAPTER 15

SERAFINA

I’d never experienced this acute sense of shame before. I didn’t stop running until I reached the bedroom and shut the door, but even then I continued into the bathroom, snatching at my clothes, needing them gone. I dropped them on the floor, everything except for my thong, which was still with Remo.

What had I done?

I turned on the shower and slipped under the spray of warm water, rubbing myself clean, rubbing between my legs, but the warm, wet, throbbing sensation remained. It wouldn’t go away. I slumped against the wall. I had let Remo put his mouth on me, his tongue inside me, and I had enjoyed it.

My body hummed with the remnants of pleasure, a distant memory my body was eager to refresh. I’d never experienced sensations like that. But worse, Remo’s words had been proven true. I’d never felt freer than in that moment with Remo between my legs, showing me pleasure. It had felt amazing, freeing, and utterly wrong. All my life I had been taught to be honorable, to do what was expected of me, and today I’d gone against it all.

Dark and tall, Remo appeared in the doorway, come to claim his prize. His eyes roamed over my naked body, and mine did the same.

He was cruel and twisted. Beyond redemption.

Brutal attractiveness, forbidden pleasure, promised pain. I should have been disgusted by him, but I wasn’t. Not by his body and not always by his nature.

I shut off the water, scared of what he wanted, completely terrified of what I wanted. This was his game of chess; he was the king and I was the trapped queen that the Outfit needed to protect. He moved me into position for his last move: the kill. Check.

He began unbuttoning his shirt then shrugged it off. He moved closer, stopping right before me. “You always watch me like something you want to touch but aren’t allowed to. Who’s holding you back, Angel?”

“Nothing’s holding me back. I don’t want to,” I muttered with false bravado, the lie ringing loud and clear.

“Is that so?” Remo asked quietly. He reached for my hand, and I let him. Let him put my palm against his strong chest, let him slide it lower, over the hard lines of muscles, over the rough scars. He placed my palm over his belt then released me. “Don’t you want to be free of society’s shackles for once? To do something forbidden?”