Devil You Hate (The Diavolo Crime Family 1)

He picks up his pace, both in the maddening swirl of his fingers on my clit and the slide of his cock into my asshole. Each pass is achingly gentle, and I hate every single one, even as I chase him for the next. He’s toying with me, punishing me, like he promised.

This time when he pulls almost all the way out of me, he’s so focused on where we join, I shove back into him, almost taking all of him inside me in one smooth toe-numbing stroke.

He barks out a strangled sound, his hands bracing on the desk beside my hips to still us both. “You’re playing with fire, princess,” he growls.

If fire feels this good, then it can burn me to ash.

I settle my hand on my clit again and glance at him over my shoulder. “Just do it! The way I know you want to. I can feel you holding back. Just fuck me, please, Nicolo.”

It’s me saying his name that’s his undoing.

He grabs my hips, one hand on either side, and lifts me so high my feet hang above the ground. Then, even though he’s mostly already inside me, he shoves deeper, so deep it feels like he’s reached the end of me.

Then he pulls out and sets a brutal pace. I rub my clit harder and faster with each thrust, whimpering, groaning, struggling in his hold. None of it matters as my orgasm sparks inside me, my clit tightening against my finger as I move faster, always faster, and harder.

He keeps going, slamming into my ass hard and deep. I can feel his balls at the back of my thighs and the coarse hair above his cock against my skin. He’s imprinted on my body, maybe even joined me in my skin.

With each thrust, he grunts until his own breath is shuttling in and out of him in heavy heaving gasps. “Come for me, stellina. Now.”

Somehow my body obeys, and I shatter into a thousand brittle shards, my hand slowing on my slit until I can’t even see or think straight. Pleasure zings through me, followed by a soft groan from him. I don’t understand the things I’m feeling. Why does his deep voice sound so good when he makes those noises?

He thrusts harder still, slamming into me until he freezes with a loud grunt. His fingers dig into my skin with bruising force as he comes, and his thighs shake as he holds himself into my body.

Carefully, almost reverently, he settles me on my feet, holding me tight against him, as he ensures my knees will hold up. I’m not convinced, but he is, and when he lets go, I flop belly first onto the desk.

At some point, I feel a warm towel against my skin, but then it goes hazy. I think I’m lifted and carried somewhere. I drift into darkness, only to wake up a moment later when I’m placed on something soft.

On instinct, I curl up, reveling in the fresh linen scent and silky fabric against my heated skin. Something warm and hard presses against my body, and that’s the last thing I notice before sleep drags me under completely.

24

Nic

I wake up with a tingle in my arm, letting me know the limb is stiff and blood flow sparse. Looking down at the sleeping form curled into my side, I find Celia. Her soft, pink lips are parted, and her angelic features are softened in the early morning light. Right now, she isn’t afraid, isn’t tense, or trying to fight me. She is an angel, and how mocking is it that I’m the devil?

An inky darkness cloaks me as a dull ache spreads through my chest with one glance. My heart thunders against my ribs, amplifying the pain, and I can’t ever remember a time when it beat this hard before. So soft, fragile, and trusting. That’s how she appears, like a sleeping lamb in the pasture while the big bad wolf lurks at the edge of the woods. If only I was a better man, a man that wasn’t so dead set on revenge. Maybe things could be different?

I have to squish the thought before it builds into something more. Today her entire world will change, and I suppose, given all these fucking thoughts coursing through me at the sight of her, so will mine. I don’t allow myself to dwell on things that can’t be changed, and I ignore the pain slicing through my chest.

I shift my legs against hers and realize the blankets are wound between her bare legs. When she fell asleep on top of my desk, I carried her back to my bed, even though I knew I should have tucked her into hers. For one night, I wanted the scent of her hair on my pillows, to fall asleep intertwined with my knee shoved between her thighs.