Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

“If they want to live, they’ll leave quickly.” I’m serious as fuck, and she knows it. She also knows I don’t like repeating myself.

She pulls off her dress, leaving just the bra and panties. Her beautiful breasts spill out when she takes off her bra. She steps out of her panties and becomes the naked goddess of pure perfection standing before me.

I take off my jacket and unbutton my shirt, shrugging out of it and pushing it to the floor. Her eyes take me in when I undo my belt and pants and push them down my legs. I reach for her with one hand and my cock with the other.

Holding her close, I drive my cock inside her tight pussy. She gasps, reaching for my shoulders. She holds on so tight her nails dig into my skin, digging into my skin so sharp I know they’re going to leave a mark. I don’t care though. I love pain sometimes. Especially when accompanied by pleasure. She’ll learn that too when we explore some of my darker tastes.

She’s so tight it hurts again. It’s almost like I wasn’t inside her last night. The look on her face is a mix of pleasure and pain too. I know I must be hurting her, but she’s taking it.

I pull out slightly then plunge back in, deeper this time. She cries out loud, throwing her head back, arching her back. The sight of her makes my cock harder. The sounds she makes turn my greed for her insatiable. That look in her eyes fills me with selfish desire. I start to fuck her hard. Hard and fast, just the way I wanted to last night. I held back then. Right now, I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to. I want her so damn much it physically hurts. I want to take everything from her.

We both groan and moan as the sounds of wild sex fill the room. There’s no way that anyone passing nearby won’t hear us. I imagine people would hear us even if they weren’t near because of the way sound travels down the corridor.

Fuck, she feels too good. Her walls tighten deliciously around my cock as a wave of orgasm claims her. That feels fucking good too. I’m not about to allow it to make me lose control though. I want more.

Deciding just that, I pull out of her again in the height of pleasure and pick her up. She wraps her arms around my neck.

“Hold on tight, Princesca. You’re about to have the ride of your life,” I tell her with a wink and impale her on my dick at the same time.

Her slick, wet pussy is hot as fuck. It fills me with hunger. I move us to the wall, knocking over the potted plant. It clatters to the floor, breaking.

Pushing her right up against the wall, I plan to devour every piece of her. Fingers dig deeper into my skin. Her cries become louder. Pleasure and pain combust into a one delicious cocktail as I start rutting into her body at a furious speed, angling her so I can keep my promise of fucking her properly.

When I’m done with her, she won’t be able to walk, and she won’t forget tonight. As long as she lives, she won’t forget this moment. Never, because I won’t.

Again, I don’t care that she’s Emelia Balesteri. In a few weeks, she’ll be Emelia D’Agostino. All mine, in every law of the land and in the eyes of the great beholder when we take our vows in front of the priest.

The walls of her pussy throb, squeezing my dick like a glove, too tight. She feels too good. And as much as I want to continue, I know when I’ve reached my limit.

One last cry from her gorgeous mouth, and the arch of her tits in my face has me blowing my load inside her. Fuck, my damn knees buckle. The pleasure is so intense I almost fucking fall over.

She milks the cum from my dick and takes it all, leaving me drained. Drained yet still wanting more.

Chapter Twenty

Massimo

Two fucking days…

That’s how long we’ve stayed in bed. Two days.

It’s dawn on Tuesday morning. Tonight is the ceremonial dinner where Pa will give me his ring. It will be a true symbol of his retirement as leader of the D’Agostino family.

In attendance will be my brothers, my two uncles and their wives, who flew in from Italy, and my three cousins, two of which have wives.

It’s a big deal. I’m supposed to take Emelia to this dinner as a symbol of our family conquering the devil. She’s supposed to be the trophy, a prize.

Right now, as I sit on the window bay of the room I’ve given her, watching her sleep, she looks like the woman who’s filled my every waking thought for the last two days.

Scratch that. Since the night of the charity ball. Starting that night when she floated in on her father’s arm and I knew I had to have her.

Here I am with her, sitting here, doing something I haven’t done in years, and not unless I had to.

I woke before the sun rose and sat here smoking. Watching her yet again. I seem to do that a lot lately. Watch, ponder, assess. All attempts to figure out what I’m going to do next.

Looking at her balances me. She’s so peaceful in her sleep and in this room we’ve been trapped in a fantasy. Her and me. The two of us lost in the throes of passion, where nothing exists besides the attraction and chemistry that draw us to each other.

I forget the past when I’m with her. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing, since my rage toward her father sates and I find myself just thinking of her.