Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

“Let’s see just how chilled you are?” He cups me with his whole hand; his touch is hard, possessive. Carefully, he opens me up and slips two fingers along my folds. “Yes,” he whispers so softly I can barely hear him. There’s a yearning in his voice that tells me he wants this more than he’s letting on. It’s not just a stupid game for him.

When he pulls his fingers away, they are coated in moisture, and I shudder. It means nothing, just my body’s reaction to a biological stimulus.

I watch him as he stares at me, using his hand again, this time dragging his thumb gently over my clit. I lurch off the bed in surprise.

“Settle, stellina. I’ve got you,” he whispers.

Then he leans over me, boxing me in, so he can look at my face at the same time he spears me with his fingers again. Twisting his hand around, his fingers still inside me, he uses his thumb and fingers at the same time.

I’m shaking underneath him. He’s barely touching me, his throat at eye level, and I lean back against the bed to peer into his eyes. They are heavy-lidded, and he’s drawn his bottom lip between his teeth. I brace, but it’s too late. He starts slowly and then picks up a punishing rhythm, fucking me with his fingers and using his thumb to drive me higher and higher toward orgasm.

No. I try to shove his hand away, but he slips out of me and stands. My entire body is quaking, caught between the heady pressure he’s applied to my body and the pain he promises with his eyes. When he strips his belt off, I flinch. I barely make it to the other side of the bed before he catches me, traps me with the heavy weight of him. Then so fucking easily, he wrestles me back into place and secures my hands tight with the belt to the bedframe.

Tears pour down my cheeks, wet trails, hot and salty over my lips.

“Now, be a good girl, and ask me nicely to make you come, and I will.”

He lowers his body along mine, so he can resume his position, his fingers deep inside me.

I shake my head again, thrashing. Pieces of hair escape my bun and fall onto my face. He huffs against my cheek and starts a gentle rhythm again. His eyes are dark, piercing, and I feel like he can see right through me and into the darkest parts of my soul.

“I’m not a patient man. Ask me or beg me to make you come, and I’ll make it all better. It’s that, or I’ll spend all night edging you until you’re not only begging me for my fingers but for my cock as well.”

I whimper and squeeze my eyes shut. “I hate you.”

“Well, get in line, princess. What’s it going to be? If you ask, and I don’t succeed, you’re a free woman.”

The need to come pricks against my skin, and I’m consumed. There is no escaping it. I can do nothing but turn myself over to the devil himself. “Please. Please, make me come,” I whisper so softly I’m surprised he can even hear me.

His answering groan of approval shoots through me, somehow dragging me closer to coming than I’ve been since he arrived. He’s not gentle when he shoves his fingers back inside me, resuming his lean over my body to watch my face, and I whimper, barely holding myself together. I keep my eyes shut and let the sensations consume every fiber of my being.

The orgasm sparks quickly, and I pant. He sinks down, so he can feel my breath against his ear, his lips whispering encouragement against my skin. “Let go. I’ve got you. Give it to me. Let me feel that virgin pussy cream on my fingers.”

His mouth is filthy. This is wrong. I shouldn’t want this, but I can’t stop it. I can’t stop my body from reacting as it does. He continues pumping his fingers inside me even as my body contracts around him, my legs squeezing him tight to me, and the scent of him and my sex surrounds us, making the orgasm all the more powerful. The little sparks turn into bigger ones until I’m nothing but embers left in the presence of roaring flames.

Everything in me is fractured and remade on waves of pleasure. A scream rips from my throat, and he uses the hand he’s been holding himself up with to cover my mouth, smothering the scream threatening to shake the house to the ground. His weight is heavy on top of me, and the movement of his fingers becomes lazy. I’m melted butter in his hands.

The thick length of his cock digs into my thigh, and I envision him stripping back his pants and sinking deep inside of me. Would he? Would he claim me, and what would happen if he did? My body pulses in one huge heartbeat, all orbiting his hands as he gentles his strokes against my sated flesh. When he stops moving, a tear slips from the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek, leaving a cold streak in its path. He’s right.