Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

My nose wrinkled in disgust, and shame warmed my cheeks.

Remo assessed me calmly as he released his finger from his mouth. He stroked my inner thighs as he lowered himself to his stomach between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Remo pressed a kiss to my center. “Claiming my missing prize.”

My hand shot out, wanting to shove him away, but he caught my wrist and pressed it to my thigh.

His mouth gently moved over me, followed by his tongue. He was so gentle, my body responded despite my soreness. He held my gaze as he traced his tongue along my slit over and over again. Then he closed his lips over my clit and began sucking softly.

I moaned, unable to hold it in. Remo smiled against my flesh. I stopped fighting it and sank into the mattress, my legs parting further. Remo kept up the soft touch of his tongue and mouth but pulled back slightly. “There you go. Let me make you forget the pain.”

And he did. There was still an undercurrent of a dull ache, but somehow it heightened every spike of pleasure Remo’s tongue brought me.

“Look at me,” Remo ordered, his lips brushing against my folds. I met his gaze and started trembling as my core tightened. Pain and pleasure mingled as Remo’s tongue worked my nub. My lips parted and I cried out, unable to contain it. Remo’s eyes flashed with triumph, and he pressed closer to my center, devouring me. I thrashed under him, gasping. It was painful and mind-bendingly pleasurable. I was torn apart and put back together, miss-matched and wrong but back together.

I slumped against the bed, resigned, exhausted, my body throbbing with pain and the remnants of my orgasm. Remo stayed between my legs, but his tongue had slowed. His fingers pulled me apart, and he lapped at my opening. I moaned as it caused another aftershock. Everything about this was wrong and filthy. With a last kiss to my clit, Remo climbed over me and claimed my mouth. The taste of blood and my own juices made me shudder.

Remo pulled back. “Pain and pleasure,” he rasped. “What do you prefer, Angel?”

Shame crashed down on me hard and fast. “I hate you.”

Remo smiled darkly and pushed off me. “There is a washcloth on the nightstand.” His erection and upper thighs were smeared with my blood, but he didn’t bother covering himself as he walked out of the room, leaving me alone.

The door clicked shut.

I sat up, wincing again. My eyes were drawn to the sheets, and I closed my eyes again. This was supposed to happen on my wedding night. It was supposed to be Danilo’s privilege, and I had given it away because that was exactly what it was: giving not taking. I got up and moved slowly toward the bathroom. The soreness wasn’t even the worst part. Not even close. That was the shame, the guilt over what I let happen.

I stepped into the shower and turned it on. The water was hot, on the verge of being painful but it felt good. I leaned back against the wall and slowly sank down. Pulling my legs up against my chest, I cried because Remo was right: what I’d done today, I’d never forget. Even if I returned to the Outfit, how could I face my family again? How could I face Danilo, my fiancé, the man I had promised myself to?

I wasn’t sure how long I sat like this when Remo stepped into the bathroom. I didn’t look up, only saw his legs in my peripheral vision. He moved closer and then the water stopped. He crouched before me. I still didn’t look up. My throat and nose were clogged from crying and I started to shiver without the warmth of the water.

“Look at me,” Remo ordered. “Look at me, Serafina.”

When I refused to do as he asked, he reached for my chin and nudged it up until my gaze met his. His dark eyes searched my face. I couldn’t read the emotions in his eyes. “If it helps, try telling yourself I raped you,” he whispered in a low voice. “Maybe you will start believing it.”

Nothing had ever cut deeper than Remo’s words. He didn’t need a knife to make me bleed. I glared at him, wanting to hate him with every part of my being, but a tiny, horrible part of me didn’t, and it was that part of me I despised more than I could ever hate Remo.

REMO

After claiming Serafina, I left her in the bed. I needed time to gather my fucking thoughts. I went to my bedroom and put on briefs but didn’t bother cleaning my thighs or face. It was late in the evening, so Kiara should still be in her bedroom with Nino.

I could still taste Serafina, sweet and metallic.