Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

Adamo cupped my neck, heat and anger battling in his eyes. “I don’t pity the girl in front of me, Dinara. I pity that girl from the past. But you…you are tough as nails. You don’t need my fucking pity.”

I nodded, as much to confirm his words as to convince myself that I’d really left every bit of that little girl behind. Deep down I knew she still cowered in a dark part of my brain, small and frightened, threatening to burst forth. I wanted her out of there, and by now I had an idea how to finally succeed.

“Fuck me,” I breathed.

Adamo jerked me against his body, his tongue dipping into my mouth. I opened up for him, threw my arms around his neck and molded our bodies together. Adamo squeezed my breast through my tank then tugged at my pebbled nipple. I raked my fingers through his wavy hair, bit down on his lower lip only to sooth it with my tongue a moment later. He pressed his palm against my crotch and I arched against him, wanting to feel his touch on bare skin.

“Get a room,” someone called. I was too disoriented from our kiss to know who it was. Adamo grabbed my hand and tugged me along. I followed him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my center tingling with need. Adamo dragged me into the old gas station, past a surprised Crank. “Get out,” Adamo snarled, and Crank did with a muttered curse. Then we stumbled into the backroom with its old freezer and scattered boxes. The stench of moldy cardboard and something rotten clogged my nose.

Adamo threw the door shut and pressed me against the edge of the freezer, his hands making quick work of my zipper. He didn’t bother pulling my shorts down, only shoved his hand into my panties and thrust his middle finger into me. The heel of his palm rubbed my clit as he fingered me hard and fast.

Our eyes stayed locked, my lips parted as Adamo drew moan after moan from my mouth. My arousal soaked my panties, making Adamo’s finger slide in and out easily. He added a second finger and slammed even harder into me. The desire in his eyes seared every inch of my skin. No sign of pity, only lust.

I screamed out my release but Adamo hardly gave me time to recover before he shoved down my shorts and hoisted me on the freezer. He pushed my legs apart and took a few deep licks, making me shudder and cling to his hair. Then he straightened and pulled out his cock. He gripped my ankles and propped them up on his shoulders before he dove into me in one hard thrust. He didn’t give me time to adept, instead he slammed into me. He leaned forward, bringing my legs closer to my body and changing the angle so he went even deeper. I sucked in breath after shaky breath, my toes curled tightly under the force of the sensations.

Fury and desire had replaced pity, and I became Dinara again, as I lost myself in Adamo’s gaze. I dug my nails into his shoulders, my hips meeting him thrust for thrust, and then my lips tore open for a cry as I came again. Adamo slammed even harder into me before he released into me with a low groan.

I closed my eyes, panting. I didn’t want this to end. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe never.

Adamo made me want to lose control to him. He made me feel as if I could lose control to him without fear.

When Adamo and I had both calmed down from our release, he met my gaze. His face was covered in sweat and his shirt clung to his upper body. “We’re not over,” he rasped.

I nodded, breathing harshly. “We’re not.”

In that moment Adamo looked at me the same way he had before he’d found out the ugly truth, as if I were still tough, racer Dinara to him. I knew there would be moments when this new poignant expression would return but as long as he could make me feel so alive, I could live with the small reminders.

We spent the night in Adamo’s tent together. Sleep evaded me. My thoughts revolved around the events of the previous day, the knowledge that there were still videos of me out there. Now that I knew I remembered the camera always pointed at me. It had faded into the darkness of my memories over the years. Other images had been more prominent.

Adamo’s warm scent engulfed me, one of his arms thrown over my waist. His closeness provided the solace I’d never admit I needed. I peered up at the tent ceiling even if it was mostly shrouded in darkness. Only the hint of light drifted over to us, maybe from the fire or one of the cars. The low murmur of voices told me others couldn’t sleep either.