Devil You Know (The Diavolo Crime Family 2)

The heat I felt before sparks into anger, and I glare back at him. “Is that what you want? A woman who pretends to like your cock? I’d think you wouldn’t have trouble finding a willing woman; why keep one who doesn’t want you?”

Ruthlessly, he spears me with two fingers, sinking deep. The air in my lungs evaporates. The pleasure he is giving me hinges on pain, but I wouldn’t stop him, couldn’t even if I tried.

“You can lie all you want, but your body will always betray you. It would take me two minutes to make you come around my fingers right now. The only problem is I don’t reward brats who can’t follow simple directions.”

Before I can respond, he flips me onto my belly and drags my hips up to meet his.

“I warned you, and you wanted to fight about it. Now I’m going to take you as is, and it’s not going to be as good for you as it could’ve been.”

I whimper and try to drag my hips away, to crawl to the door and claw at the handle to get out.

He stops my advance and wraps his arm around my waist, pressing himself against my ass, and with the other hand, he rubs his cock between my pussy lips, soaking himself with my wetness there.

“Please,” I beg, as he notches himself against my ass.

“Oh, you ask so nicely, stellina,” he says, his voice silken sin. And then he slowly presses against my puckered asshole, sliding into me inch by tight inch.

He gives me only enough time to accept him as my body stretches to accommodate his size. I whimper once he’s fully seated in both pleasure and pain. I hate he can make my body feel this way. Every touch ignites a fire, even as I want to hurt him for his every liberty.

Instead of angling me forward on the seat, he arches me up and anchors his arm underneath my breasts. His lips land on my neck as he starts a slow grind into my ass.

“I can smell myself on your skin. Taste myself. And yet, I want more. I need my marks on your body, my name on your lips. I fucking need you, Celia.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, tears sliding down my cheeks, but I don’t know if it’s the shame from the orgasm building against my will or the fear he’s never going to stop.

“Say my name, say Nic as you come, stellina, and I’ll make you feel so good the next time. I’ll get on my knees for you and lick your sweet little cunt. Would you like that?” Each word is punctuated with an arch of his hips into my body.

Everything in me is coiled tight, ready to explode, and I’m trying with all my might to hold back, to keep from coming, because if I do, it feels like he’s won.

And when he wins, I always lose.

I close my eyes against another wave of sensations that slowly build like flames in a fireplace. One tiny nudge, and I’ll go over.

A flicker of motion from the front seat causes Nicolo to grip me tighter against him.

His voice is entirely different when he speaks to the driver. “If you so much as glance back here again, I’ll blow your head off and use it for bowling practice. Then I’ll fuck her using your blood as lube while I do it.”

A skitter of fear coils through me at the dark menace rolling off him. A few seconds of stillness pass until he loosens his grip a bit and starts rocking into me faster.

I’m afraid to move, to look at him, to hold on to the seat, to keep my balance even as my knees ache from the position.

It hurts, and it feels good, and I hate him. God, I hate him. I hate him so fucking much that I think my hate is becoming something else entirely.

I make it a mantra in my head as he moves faster inside me, pumping into me harder as my body gives way to his.

“Say my name, stellina. I want to hear it. Say it, and I’ll grant you one wish as long as it’s not your freedom or Lucas’s.”

He captures my chin and tilts my head back so he can look into my eyes as he fucks me. “Say it. Fucking say it. I can feel you tightening around me. You’re fighting it, but you’re going to come any second, and I want to hear my name when you do. I want you to acknowledge who is giving you pleasure even as you complain about me fucking you against your will.”

I squeeze my lips together defiantly, refusing to give in. This is one thing he can’t force from me. He can own my body and make me feel whatever he wants, but he can’t make me speak. He can’t make me think or believe what he has to say.