Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

“I didn’t say you could wear panties tonight.”

I swallow thickly and to my utter shock, not completely out of fear. Staring down at him, the hard lines of his face and the flare of his wide shoulder away from his neck entice me in ways that I never found attractive in Marco. It’s not just his body. It’s the damn arrogance wafting off him like he owns the world and damn well knows it.

He pushes upward again, trailing his fingers from my ankle all the way to the cusp of my thighs. I try not to flinch as he eases my legs open enough to cup my center.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

I’m trembling now, and if he doesn’t stop touching me, I’ll fall over and break my neck.

“Whatever I want.”

I jerk away, but he is faster than me and snags my hip with his other hand, holding me in place. “Be still. I won’t hurt you until you make me.”

Goosebumps pebble my flesh when he slowly parts my folds and slips his index and middle finger inside me. There is no build up, no foreplay. His touch is gentle, but the intrusion itself is rough, consuming like he’s trying to claim a part of me. The sensation overwhelms me in an instant. Fear, hate, and loneliness all swirl together into one unwanted feeling.

My muscles tense, and a slight sting follows as he fingers me, touching me in a place no other man has before. What starts as an unwanted touch becomes everything. With every shallow stroke of his finger, a match is struck, igniting, and threatening to consume me in its flames. I close my eyes and tip my head back, forgetting everything else around me.

I’m so consumed by it I don’t question Nicolo as he shifts, his hand slipping from my hip. Not until that same hand comes down onto my bare skin, filling the air with a loud smack. I hear it before I feel it, and I yelp at the sharp pain that burns against my ass cheek, but that pain quickly fades away as he continues to fuck me with his fingers while circling his thumb around my clit.

Another slap hits the same spot, right at the crease of my ass. He rubs the pain away before delivering another blow. And I like it. I like the pain that’s followed by pleasure, the burning in my skin, and the tightening in my core. His hand comes down on my ass a few more times, and I ride his hand, enjoying the curl of his fingers inside of me and the way he rubs my clit.

“You like this way too much,” he murmurs as he pulls away.

His fingers drag across my clit as he removes his hand and stands up. I open my eyes just in time to take in his smug grin.

He holds his fingers up to the light before bringing them to my mouth. “You act like you’re so terrified of me, but your body betrays you.”

I am afraid of him. Just maybe not as much as I should be.

His eyes swirl with lust as he shoves his fingers past my lips. “Suck, taste how much you want me.”

I squeeze my thighs together and gently lap at his fingers with my tongue. My muskiness invades my senses. I never thought I would find this anything but disgusting, and I hate to admit it, but there is something erotic about tasting yourself.

Our gazes collide as I swirl my tongue around his thick digits. His own eyes are dilated, and the animalistic look in them tells me he’s ready to part my thighs and taste me for himself.

When he’s satisfied, he pulls the digits out of my mouth and leans in, so his lips are only a fraction away from mine. His hot breath fans against my lips, and I lick my own, anticipating something that I know will never happen.

His eyes dart from my lips and back up to my eyes. “You can pretend all you like, stellina. Yes, in some ways, you may hate me, but you don’t hate the way it feels when I touch you. In fact, I’m thinking you like it.”

Intent on not drawing more of his ire, I keep my mouth shut. Even as curses and feelings and words rattle around in my brain.

“You’re looking a little pale,” he muses, his gaze roaming my face with an edge of concern. “Let’s go get you some protein.”

He holds his arm out, expecting me to take it as if we’re headed on a date and not a forced march for his pleasure. If I had more balls, I would tell him to go fuck himself. Well, that and if it wasn’t for these ridiculous heels he is making me wear and the fact I’m afraid I might fall and die.