Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

“I can take it. I want it to hurt, and I want you to make it better.” I met his gaze, the evident need in his eyes. Not to push me up against a wall—he could’ve done that any time. But a need to fill me in ways nobody else could and master this domain. To finally have me willing. I freed my wrists from his grip, hugged his neck, and pressed my forehead to his. “I know it hurts you, too.”

Something passed over his face. He leaned in, and I drew back, keeping myself just outside his reach. With a growl that reverberated in my chest, he captured my mouth for a punishing kiss, the kind I’d expect of a deadly, passionate, dominant kingpin.

Without disconnecting, he carried me across the room and lowered me until just my upper back hit the mattress. Holding my hips up, he brought them to meet each of his hard and fast thrusts. “Watch how your pussy takes me, Natalia—every inch,” he said, reaching out to press his thumb in my mouth. I automatically sucked. “I’d promise that by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else—but I’ll never be through with you.” He removed his thumb and bent forward to pinch my chin and keep my eyes on him. “And if that scares you—good.”

I arched my back as his relentless drives hit me deeper and deeper. Warmth coiled in my core, another aching knot in me that Cristiano had inspired—one only Cristiano could relieve. “I’m not scared,” I said.

He slid a hand under the hem of my t-shirt and spread it over my lower tummy as it trembled. His thumb dipped between my folds to my clit. “You were.”

“I was.”

“But now, you’ll take everything I have to give.”

“How much more could there be?” I breathed as my muscles quivered around his cock.

“I can get deeper—so much deeper,” he promised. “But I need you to come for me first and loosen up your cunt.” He took my waist, his grip so tight that his fingertips almost met as he lifted me higher. Pulled me onto each thrust. Fucked me so hard his balls slapped against my ass cheeks. “Give me that nectar only good enough for a god; let an unworthy man into the depths of Heaven.”

I shivered with his words. This was what I’d always needed. Not to be coddled and pacified with Diego’s flat, emotionless, stupid-as-fuck poetry. I’d take the raw and profane from Cristiano over lifeless prose any day. I’d take his fast and hard screw over Diego’s sniveling lovemaking.

I closed my eyes so I could feel every sensation as it washed over me, every nuance of Cristiano’s demanding fuck.

“Eyes open, Natalia,” he said. “I know you’re afraid of the dark, but in my bed, you’ll face me.”

I flitted my lids open to the beastly devil above me. The monster under my bed that had crawled out and mounted me. The one who knew my deepest fears and conquered them with me.

I shook with the force of a sudden, foundation-splitting orgasm. He held me in the safety of his black eyes as I found rapture—not in the heights of Heaven but in the depths of his hell.

“God. Fuck.” He stilled and groaned up to the ceiling. “You’re holding onto me so tight, it might be enough to keep me out of your ass for a few days.”

I released a quivering breath as the aftershock of my orgasm rolled through me. Now, I was scared. I had come for the devil and enjoyed every second of it—and now I feared I’d give it to him any way he asked.

He pulled out of me, his cock hard, throbbing, nearly purple between us—and covered in me. Before I could even register it, he leaned forward and ripped open my top. “Flip over,” he demanded, urging me onto my stomach faster, discarding the ruined shirt.

His hands spread over the base of my spine and glided to the clasp of my bra. He got it open, smoothing his palms up and down my back. “Qué buena estas.”

I wasn’t sure I felt sexy in that moment, bent over the edge of the bed, my ass in the air, wide open to him. The thought of taking him back there inspired more nerves than excitement.

He slid his slick shaft between my cheeks and the veiny, soft skin rubbed the raw bud of nerves at my opening.

“You got quiet,” he said, and I could’ve sworn I heard a smile in his voice.

He was enjoying this, the way my body had gone as tense as the strings of an over-tuned guitar. With the curtains open and the sun streaming in, fucking like this in broad daylight felt obscene. “Not my ass,” I said, pressing the side of my face into the mattress. My voice pitched as I said, “I can’t . . .”