Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

“Stay with me,” he ordered, then softer. “Stay.” His dark eyes arrested me, held me in the present, no way to escape. He slipped two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them before he pressed them lightly against my clit. They slid over my bundle of nerves easily with the extra wetness and soon tingles spread through me. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth when his fingers gently slid up and down my slit, scissoring me until every nerve ending in my pussy awakened.

My breathing came faster, my body becoming tenser. A knot was being tightened dangerously with every stroke from Adamo’s fingers and he was the only one who could release it. He controlled my body, every delicious sensation I experienced. He gathered the wetness between my folds and spread it over my clit, circling it. His breathing was coming faster now too. He never took his eyes off me as he drove me higher. The sensations became overwhelming, the knot ready to burst. “Yes,” Adamo rumbled, his eyes appearing black in the darkness, like they belonged to the devil I’d made a pact with.

He pushed two fingers into me and twisted them. I sucked in a sharp breath, on the edge of falling. My mind screamed for control, my body for release.

With every thrust he twisted his fingers, hitting a delicious point deep within me. My eyelashes fluttered, wanting to lower and sink even deeper into the sensation but I stayed rooted in the moment. His gaze held mine as he fucked me with deep precise strokes. A moan slipped out, not planned, not forced. It fell from my lips like a sigh of relief.

My inner walls began tingling like they’d never done before, began spasming and clenching around Adamo’s fingers. I couldn’t hold back. Digging my heels into Adamo’s ass, I arched back on the hood as pleasure took hold off me, ripping any shred of control from my body. I cried out, clawing at Adamo almost frantically. Adamo pumped his fingers faster, forcing out more moans and cries. I couldn’t stop shaking until finally Adamo’s fingers stopped. They remained inside of me, like Adamo had wedged himself into my mind, my body, every part of me.

Afterward, my body humming, my breathing raspy, I peered up at the night sky. None of the orgasms I’d given myself over the years had been anywhere as intense. Slowly my senses returned. Adamo hovered over me. “This was an orgasm, Dinara.”

I’d lost control. My chest constricted. I shoved him hard and he yielded, taking a step back. A bulge tented his pants. He brought his fingers, coated in my juices to his mouth and licked them clean with a wicked smile. My core clenched, wanting more, completely mesmerized by the sensations slowly dimming in my body. I hopped off the hood, pulled up my jean shorts and panties before I ran off toward my car. Inside of it, with the door closed, my heart began to slow.

Adamo still stood in front of the hood of his car. I’d left him with a hard cock once again. Only this time I didn’t feel like the winner of our game. I touched my panties, which were completely drenched then wrenched my hand away and reclined in the seat. “Fuck. Fuck you, Adamo.”

Whatever was happening between us could become dangerous, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away or rebuild old barriers. I wanted more of what Adamo had given me even if it scared me.

I wasn’t a coward, hadn’t been raised to be one and wouldn’t allow myself to become one, so I didn’t avoid Adamo like part of me wanted to do after my flight. Instead I sank down beside him on the log the next evening and held out an unopened cigarette pack to him. It was my peace offering. He accepted it. It took even more courage to hold his gaze because he gave me the feeling as if he could see even more in my eyes than the day before. Every day he unraveled another piece of me, and I was still chipping away uselessly at his barriers. We didn’t talk, only listened to the makeshift band a few racers had thrown together. One of the pit girls had an amazing voice, which filled the night with more warmth than the fire. It was long after midnight when most people had gone to sleep. “You have more of that vodka from yesterday in your car?” I heard myself say.

“I drank some of it out of frustration yesterday but there’s still enough left,” Adamo said in a low voice. We straightened and strode over to his car. People had started talking about us. Rumors made the rounds. We were a small circle, and gossip was impossible to suppress. I didn’t care. My reputation was my least concern. This wasn’t my home, and those weren’t friends or family.