Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

“It’s okay,” I whispered, because I wanted to console him in any way I could. If this was what he needed, I could give it to him. I wasn’t scared of Nino or his body.

NINO

Kiara looked up at me with trust that I had no trouble reading in her eyes. Her hands curled around my shoulders, holding on to me, and I grabbed my cock and guided it toward her pussy. She was wet and soft, even though she had been anxious about this position because it made her feel like she had no control, because my physical strength intimidated her. I lowered myself to my elbows. The closeness would calm her, not unsettle her, and I felt her body become even softer under me.

She tugged me down for a kiss, and I allowed her this small sliver of control, even if I was longing for something harder, darker. Even if I wanted to exert dominance and not gentleness.

But I needed to be inside her. Now. I slid in without pause, until her pussy touched my pelvis. I shuddered, needing more, needing it fast, needing to get rid of the sudden pressure on my chest that had never been there before.

I forced myself to wait a couple of heartbeats, allowed her body to adapt, forced down the raging flood of need in my body. I had never felt like this, like I needed to consume Kiara completely. Like she was the only thing that could satisfy a hunger unlike anything I’d ever felt.

My chest was tight, my stomach hollow, and I wasn’t sure what was going on. Why suddenly every look from Kiara made my insides explode with fire, almost painfully but good too.

I pulled out and thrust back into Kiara, and her nails dug into my back, leaving scratches. It felt like relief, an outlet for the pressure. My lips found hers as I slammed into her, and she returned my gaze with a burning need of her own. Again, that same ache for something I didn’t understand. I had always been in control, but I couldn’t control this. I reached between us and rubbed Kiara’s clit then latched onto her nipple, sucking and nibbling as I drove her into the bed with long, hard thrusts.

Even her smell opened the hole in my chest wider. Everything about her made my body react, made me long for something impossible, for something foreign and inexplicable.

Kiara started to shudder under me, but I kept thrusting even as her walls tightened from the force of her orgasm. I got on my knees for more leverage and kept thrusting, hoping it would fill that hole in my stomach, would satiate the deep hunger of my soul, but even as I came with a violent jerk and my cock softened, the longing remained wedged in my chest.

I sank down on top of Kiara and breathed harshly against her throat. Her fingers played with my hair, and she kissed my ear, then my temple, and for some reason those two meaningless gestures fulfilled some of my longing.

I twisted my face to look at her. Her skin was flushed, and she was breathing fast. She looked stunned, overwhelmed as she met my gaze.

“Did I hurt you?” I rasped.

Her brows pulled tight. “No. When you said you couldn’t be gentle, I’d expected worse.”

So had I. It had felt like I was on the verge of losing control, but somehow Kiara had held me fast through it all.

“Nino?” she asked quietly. “That look on your face, what does it mean?”

If only I knew.

She kissed me. “I know our pasts hold horrors, but we can get beyond that, don’t you think?”

I stroked her cheek. I had gotten past the horrors. I’d seen and done so many horrible things, how could an event from long ago still hold any power over me?

CHAPTER 23

KIARA

The next morning I found Remo pummeling the life out of the punching bag, but all I could think of were Nino’s words, and I knew I’d never see Remo the same way again. Christ, he still terrified me, but I almost understood him—part of him anyway. Remo was cruel and brutal, merciless and quick to snap, but it wasn’t all there was to him.

“Why are you staring?” he panted as he sent the bag flying with another hard kick.

I wasn’t even sure why I had come here. It was where Nino and his brothers hung out to play pool, watch fights and discuss business, or pummel a punching bag during the day. In the evening when we all had dinner together, my presence was tolerated, but I usually stayed away the rest of the time, giving them their space.

My eyes were drawn to Remo’s back. I had never been close enough to him to notice that the tattooed fallen angel covered up burn scars. I hadn’t realized the rough patches on his palms were burns and healed wounds from fending off his mother.