Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

He slipped between my folds again, spreading my wetness some more. “I want to fuck you so badly.”

“You’re still healing,” I rasped. His broken bones needed to mend. One of us needed to be the voice of reason, even if my body hated me for it.

He sat up stiffly. “Straddle me with your ass facing me.”

“What?”

“Do it,” he ordered.

I didn’t question him, could barely think straight from the throbbing between my legs. I pushed up and climbed over Remo, careful not to ram my knees into his ribs. My palms rested beside his knees as I knelt over him, my ass pushing out. Remo lifted up my dress until I was exposed and my core tightened in anticipation. “Fuck,” Remo murmured, causing me to shiver again.

I gasped when he pushed two fingers into me, my back arching at the delicious sensation of my walls gripping him. Remo let out a low groan, and I almost came hearing it. I could see the proof of his own need straining against his sweatpants.

“The sight of your pussy taking my fingers is the fucking best.”

I whimpered in response and began to meet his thrusts, needing his fingers deeper, faster, harder.

“Yes, Angel, take them,” he rasped.

More wetness pooled between my legs. I threw a glance over my shoulder. Remo was focused on his fingers as they fucked me, his dark eyes burning with so much desire it stole my breath. I shuddered with pleasure. He glanced up, his lips curling in a pleased smile.

“Come on, Angel. Fuck my fingers.” Remo added a third finger and my eyes rolled back in my head at the sensation.

I ground myself against Remo’s hand, driving his fingers deeper into me. He watched me intently and his other hand began massaging my butt. I wanted to grasp his erection, but I could hardly support myself with two arms, already spinning out of control. He gathered my wetness with the fingers of his other hand, and then I felt one finger against my back entrance. I tensed but didn’t stop riding Remo’s fingers.

“Relax,” Remo ordered, his eyes compelling. “It’ll be good.”

Anxious and excited, I gave a small nod. Slowly he pushed a finger into me. “Oh God,” I gasped as I felt his fingers in both my openings. There was a slight discomfort, but it didn’t stand a chance against the pleasure Remo’s fingers in my center caused.

Remo established a gentle rhythm with his finger while I kept grinding myself against his other hand. He didn’t take his eyes off me as he worked my body, and I could feel the first traitorous spasm of my orgasm. My pussy clenched around his fingers. I moaned, the sensations overwhelming. I felt a second finger at my back entrance and tensed again. Remo stroked my butt cheek, and as I drove his fingers deep into me he curled them and hit my g-spot. I came hard, crying out desperately, and he pushed the second finger into my back entrance. I gasped from the pain and my orgasm heightened in force. I shuddered, caught between intense pleasure and dull pain. My arms gave way, and I braced myself on my forearms. Remo kept thrusting.

“Yes, Angel, I told you I’d show you pain and pleasure.”

Half lowered onto him, I could feel his erection digging into my belly. He groaned again, almost in agony. I was completely overwhelmed, stunned, and a little embarrassed. I’d never considered allowing someone to go anywhere near my ass. Of course Remo wanted that part of me as well.

Remo pulled out of me slowly, and I gasped. His hands came down on my ass cheeks, and he massaged me gently. “If I died now, it would be worth it.”

I huffed. “You won’t die today. I won’t explain that to Nino. No thank you.”

Remo chuckled and the sound sent a different kind of shiver through my body. I loved the sound of Remo laughing, especially if it was earnest.

I pushed myself up then knelt beside Remo. He curled his hand over my neck and pulled me toward him for a slow kiss. When he drew back, his eyes searched my face. I knew my cheeks were flushed, not just from my orgasm but also from embarrassment.

“There’s so much pleasure I still want to show you,” Remo murmured, tracing his lips over my jaw and cheek.

He dropped his head back against the headboard, sighing as he reached for a glass filled with dark liquid on his nightstand.

I recognized the scent immediately. “Scotch, really?”

“It’ll help with the healing, trust me. I’ve done a lot of research in the past.”

I shook my head.

“And,” he added, with a challenging smile, “it seems to be the only pleasure I’m allowed today.” He took a sip.

My eyes darted down to the impressive bulge in his pants. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to render him into a helpless mess of desire as he did with me.