Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3) - Page 68

“Who knew hatred could be this beautiful?” I said as my fingertips slid over the soft bumps of her spine through her thin satin robe.

She jumped up, whirled around, and slapped my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

I pressed her into the wall, one hand curled around her wrists as I shoved them into the wall above her head. “Yesterday you let me touch you, let me eat your pussy, let me fuck you. You gave me yourself, willingly, desperately, wantonly.”

The last word broke through her mask. “You would have forced me eventually.”

My eyes locked on hers, my grip on her wrists tightening. “I thought you were brave, Angel. I thought you wouldn’t choose the easy way, but now I see you can’t even stand down the truth of what you did.”

She didn’t look away.

“Now tell me again, why did you give yourself to me yesterday? And be brave. Was it because you feared I’d take your gift without asking or because you wanted to be the one who decided to whom you wanted to gift it to?”

She swallowed hard. “I wanted to gift it to Danilo. It was his privilege.”

“Did you really? Or did you feel obligated to gift it to him because someone promised that gift to him without your consent.”

“Don’t you dare talk about consent.”

I moved closer. “Why did you give it to me?”

Her eyes flashed and tears sprang into her eyes. “Because I wanted to!” She snapped her lips shut and finally looked away. A tear slid down her perfect cheek, and she took a shuddering breath. “They won’t forgive me for it. They will hate me fiercely, but never as much as I hate myself, never enough.”

I leaned down and grazed my nose over her pulse point, my hand cupping her face.

“Do it,” she whispered, begged, and I drew back, looking into the blue pools of despair.

“Do what?” I nuzzled the soft spot behind her ear.

“Hurt me.”

My mouth brushed her chin and higher over her lips.

“Hurt me.” She said it harsher this time. I gripped her waist and turned her around, pressing her into the wall, her wrists still above her head, my body caging her. I was already painfully hard. The hand that wasn’t holding her wrists moved under her satin robe, and I found her bare beneath. I exhaled against her neck then bit down lightly, causing her to shudder. My fingers moved to her flat belly then lower to the trimmed curls until I dipped between her folds. “Hurt me, Remo!”

“I will, Angel. Patience is a virtue. Don’t you remember?” My fingers slid deeper.

She wasn’t wet like she’d been yesterday, just barely aroused, mostly broken and desperate to exchange one form of pain for another. I unbuckled my belt and took out my cock before easing it between her beautiful firm ass cheeks. Her breath caught but I dipped lower to her pussy. She was tense as a fist against my tip, sore, braced for the pain.

I didn’t push in. Instead my fingers started playing with her pussy, light, teasing, coaxing touches. Nothing like what she wanted.

“Why can’t you just hurt me?” she whispered, tilting her face sideways and upward.

Yes, why? My hands always gave pain readily.

I held her in place, arms raised above her head, her front pressed to the wall, my cock wedged between her thighs, and watched her cry. I claimed her mouth for a kiss, tasting her tears as my fingers stroked between her pussy lips. Soon I could feel her surrender. My fingers slipped through her wetness, and her pussy loosened against my tip. Using my foot I shifted her legs further apart then looked into her teary blue eyes as I eased into her. She winced and I kissed her mouth again, slow and languid, until I was sheathed in her up to my balls, my cock buried deep inside her.

“Now your patience will be rewarded, Angel.”

She smiled joylessly against my mouth, and I pulled all the way out of her then slammed back in. She gasped, her body coiling tight, trapped between my chest and the wall. Her pussy clenched mercilessly around me. I stroked her clit as I drove into her again. My body longed to go even harder, and so did she, but I held back not wanting to do any lasting damage.

Fuck.

What the fuck was Serafina doing to me?

Her eyes held mine as if she could find salvation there, but we were both damned, and I was dragging her closer to damnation every day.

My balls slapped against her with every thrust, and I was losing control, not just of my fucking dick but also of everything else. Serafina was still tight and her moans hesitant, pain stronger than pleasure. Claiming her mouth for a kiss, I abandoned control and came with a violent shudder.

Tags: Cora Reilly The Camorra Chronicles Romance
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