Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

He makes another circle around me, and I can feel his eyes on my skin. His fingers brush across my hip, and I jerk.

His eyes narrow at me, and I fortify myself to remain still.

The next touch is across the back of my shoulder blades. Then the back of my right thigh. It tickles, but I don’t dare move for fear of him doing much worse.

“You’re beautiful, stellina. But I’m sure in your pampered existence you hear that all the time.”

He touched a nerve. Jerking my chin up, I glare at him, then purposefully tip my hair out of the way so my scar is visible. “Actually, I don’t.” It’s quite the opposite, but I keep that part to myself.

His gaze traces the long line down my cheek and continues further south, down to my breasts, flat belly, and finally to the apex of my thighs. He doesn’t comment on my admission, and that silence is deafening.

“What do you want from me?” My voice comes out low.

It takes so long for him to answer that I figure he’ll simply ignore me, but then he clears his throat, and words tumble out his smug mouth.

“Everything. I want everything from you. And when I take it all, every single bit of you, I’ll get my revenge on every member of your weaselly family.”

Revenge? On my family?

It doesn’t come as a surprise to me that this man wants revenge. My father is not known for kindness or charm. If only the bastard in front of me knew how little my family gave a shit about me. They’ve only ever cared for the connection I can make when I leverage my vagina into marriage. I wonder if my father ever cared about me at all.

Maybe when I was a child. I have a few lovely memories of my father bouncing me on his knees, or maybe that’s just my mind making up stuff that never happened? All my vivid memories are of my parents acting like strangers toward each other.

I don’t offer this information up to him since I doubt he cares.

A chill settles over me, and I clutch my arms under my breasts without thinking.

He pounces, shoving my arms to my sides, holding me tight so I can’t move while he presses every unyielding inch of his body against mine.

A tear springs free, and I wish I could take it back. Die with a little fucking dignity.

My ruthless captor glares at me and then shoves me back. I stumble, but keep my hands down. When he crowds me again, he tips my chin up, so I’m forced to look into his eyes. A bully, a fucking monster. That’s what he is.

“You don’t cover yourself until I say you can. Nod if you understand.” I nod frantically, and his eyes soften. “Now, tell me, are you still a virgin?”

His question douses my entire body with ice cold water. I want to defy him, lie, be proud and tell him to go fuck himself. I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I squeeze my lips together and stare into his eyes.

After a moment, his gaze drops to my lips, and then, like a cobra strike, one hand goes to the back of my neck, and the other between my legs, to cup my vagina. All bravado sizzles out of me as I stare into his eyes.

“Answer me,” he grits the words through his teeth, “or I’ll part your pretty thighs and find out for myself if you’ve been touched.”

I shiver in his hold, locked against his rock-hard body and his unfailing grasp. The words are in my head, but I can’t bring myself to say them.

Yes, I scream in my mind, but all that comes out is a whimper.

He frowns, almost as if he is sorry, and then gently, I feel his fingers probing between my legs. “Is this why you don’t answer? You want my fingers inside you, testing you, feeling how tight you’ll fit around my cock?”

I shake my head, the lump in my throat still not letting a single word pass. With my fists balled tightly, I shove at his chest and squeeze my thighs together, but he simply kicks them apart and wedges his legs in between mine.

His fingers delve deeper until the blunt end of his index finger slowly slides inside me. I whimper and try to jerk away from him, but he’s strong, so much stronger than me, and holds me tight in his grasp.

The soft tissue burns from his intrusion of my body, and I glare my hatred into his face. He can touch me, but he can’t make me want it. He can enter my body, but never my mind.

After a few seconds, he pulls his fingers from my channel, brings them to his mouth, and licks the wetness I see coated there.