Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

What I wanted more than anything was his twisted smile gone. I gripped his belt and tugged him toward me, angrily, desperately, because I was falling, already lost, content to lose myself. His lips crashed down on mine, tongue domineering my mouth, hands rough against my ass. He jerked me up and against him so his erection pressed against my center.

I gasped, which he swallowed with his lips.

My fingers hooked in his waistband, scared and curious. Remo caught my gaze, his full of hunger and harshness. He ripped his mouth away from mine, backing me into the wall. “Be brave, Angel.”

I curled my fingers in his belt and held his gaze as I opened the buckle. The clink was the sound of my last wall crumbling. Gripping his zipper, I pulled it slowly down, terrified and aroused. Then I paused.

Remo bent low, his mouth brushing my ear. “I’m not a patient man. You are playing with fire.”

Forcing down my nerves, I turned my face, bringing my own lips to his ear. “Oh, Remo, I will be your first angel. Patience is a virtue, and you will be rewarded for it.” I kissed his ear then trailed my tongue over the rim.

He exhaled and pulled back so he could look at my face, and the look in his eyes, it almost made my knees buckle. For a second, I had him. I held the reins on the cruelest, most powerful man in the west, and it was thrilling. But Remo wouldn’t be Remo, wouldn’t be Capo, if he didn’t know how to take his power back.

He grabbed his pants and pulled them down together with his boxers. His erection sprang free, and Remo braced himself against the wall with his hands on either side of my head.

I stared down at him and sank back against the wall. He was long and thick and impossibly hard. I tore my gaze away, only to be hit with Remo’s penetrating stare.

My cheeks blazed with heat, and Remo smiled as he leaned forward, trailing his tongue over my heated cheekbone. “Tell me, Angel, what will be my reward for my patience?”

I stood on my tiptoes, curling my fingers over Remo’s neck, pulling myself up and against him. His hardness rubbed against my naked stomach, and he groaned a low, dangerous sound. “Something forbidden. Something you aren’t meant to be gifted.”

Remo’s body became taut, eager, and he tipped my head back, his lips brushing mine. “Something you promised to someone else?”

My throat tightened, but Remo kissed me hard, not allowing me to dwell on it. He hooked one of my legs up over his hip, opening me up. His fingers brushed my center, and then two fingers breached my opening. Pain shot through me. I ripped myself from his mouth, tensing, a choked sound bursting from my throat.

Remo stilled, his fingers deep inside of me. He pulled back, a hint of surprise on his face, then it was gone. He regarded me intently, almost curiously. My chest heaved as I tried to grow used to the stretched sensation of having his fingers in me. Remo touched his forehead to mine. “I think you were right, Angel, my reward will be worth it.”

Anger flooded me. “Did you enjoy hurting me?” I whispered.

Remo kissed my lips. “This isn’t me hurting you. This is me trying not to hurt you. You will know when I want to hurt you.” He pulled his fingers out then slid them back in. My muscles clung to him, and I exhaled. He held my gaze as he established a slow rhythm. I leaned my head back against the wall, never averting my eyes.

Remo’s dark eyes dragged me deeper and deeper down into their abyss. Pleasure slowly replaced the feeling of being stretched. I began rocking my hips, causing Remo’s erection to rub over my belly. His breathing deepened, but he kept up pumping his fingers into me at a slow pace, watching me, his other hand clinging to my outer thigh. A deep throbbing spread from my center, and I gasped, and not from pain this time. Remo’s thumb flicked over my nub, and I splintered from the inside out, into thousands of particles filled with sensation.

Remo watched me hungrily, almost reverently, and I smiled, not even sure why. I was still reeling from my high when Remo pulled his fingers out and grabbed my other thigh, lifting me up, my back against the wall, my body trapped between it and his chest. And I knew what he wanted. My hands flew up to his chest, resisting. When his erection brushed my inner thigh, I gasped out, “No!”

Remo’s dark eyes flew up to mine, angry, incredulous … but he did pause. “Not like this,” I said quietly. “Not against a wall.” This would happen on my terms, not his.