Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

The anger lessened. “You are right,” he said darkly. He hoisted me higher so my legs wrapped around his middle, and my center pressed up against his six-pack. Then he walked with me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “I will fuck you on the bed, Angel. I put white sheets on for the occasion. What a pity it would have been if I didn’t stain them with your blood.”

Shock and indignation shot through me because I realized my sheets had been white for a few days now, but then Remo kissed me. I dug my nails into his shoulders angrily and battled his tongue.

We tugged and kissed and suddenly we were on the bed. Remo knelt between my legs, shoving them further apart, his mouth harsh against my throat, and I became still, soft, scared. This was it.

Remo stilled above me and raised his head. Our eyes met. I don’t know what he saw in mine, but he cupped my cheek, startling me. His kisses became light, gentle, almost caring. So wrong. That wasn’t Remo. That was a lie. “Shh, Angel. I’ll be gentle.”

His fingers stroked my breasts, my side, oh so gently, and his mouth … his mouth dusted me with loving kisses. Even though I knew them to be false, knew I was supposed to shove him away, to put up a fight, I kissed him back. Lost, lost, lost.

Remo molded our bodies together, shifting, and then I felt a light pressure against my opening.

I gasped and tensed. Remo watched my face, full of intent, and his eyes … they quieted my hesitation, my fear, any protest I might have come up with.

He slid into me slowly, inch by inch, never taking more than my body could give, but still he seemed to tear me apart. A slow conquest but a conquest nevertheless. I’d expected brutality and cruelty. I wished for it. But this gentle Remo, he terrified me the most. He didn’t let me escape, not even the only way I could. He wanted to consume me with his eyes. He sunk all the way into me, and then he paused as I shivered under the force of the intrusion. His dark eyes said what I’d known all along.

He possessed me. He owned me.

I was the queen.

He was the king.

Checkmate.

REMO

This was the ultimate victory over the Outfit. They didn’t know it yet, but they would soon. Serafina trembled under me, her marble cheeks flushed, lips parted. She was in pain, and somehow it didn’t please me because I had tried not to hurt her. I gave pain willingly, deliberately, freely. Not by accident.

I held myself still, content in the feeling of her tight walls squeezing my cock mercilessly. I was fucking ecstatic feeling the slickness around me and knowing it was her virgin blood. The sweetest reward for my patience I could imagine.

My eyes roamed Serafina’s perfect features, and her blue eyes met mine, searching, wondering. I pulled out of her slowly, recognizing the signs of pain in her expression, then pushed back in even slower.

I rocked my hips slowly, keeping my movements as controlled as possible. Her face twisted with pain and pleasure, and I angled my hips to increase the latter. She gasped, surprised. I kept up the slow rhythm. Patience wasn’t my forte, but I knew this prize would be worth it too.

She gasped again. Her pale blue eyes rose to mine, questioning and confused and scared. Scared of my consideration, of my gentleness. She hadn’t expected it from me, had accepted her fate. She had braced herself for me fucking her like an animal. She had expected agony and bruises, humiliation and cruel words. She had prepared herself for it, had promised herself to fight me.

This was something she hadn’t prepared for, something she couldn’t fight because she was too desperate for it. She was proud and noble, but she was still only a sheltered woman. Showing her kindness was like giving her water in a time of drought.

It was something new to me. I fucked hard. Women were pleasure and money. Bargain and burden. They weren’t allowed to be more than that.

She moaned, her marble-like cheeks flushing. She was getting closer. I lowered my mouth to her lips, slid my tongue in, tasting that unblemished sweetness.

My fingers slid up her side, over her slender ribs to the swell of her breast. She gasped again. I brushed her nipple with my thumb, the touch feather soft because that was how she liked it, as inexperienced as she was. She’d soon enough see that pain and pleasure worked well together. I reached between us and slid two fingers over her clit. She shuddered and I repeated the motion and thrust my hips faster, forcing one astonished gasp after another from her lips.