Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
She whimpers as I scrape my teeth against her thigh, biting and licking my way back to her pussy. My tongue dips inside her, alternating between fucking her and sucking on her clit.
I draw it out, savoring the visible ache in her body. Her thighs squeeze around my head as she starts pleading incoherently. With every word, she secures her fate.
Pressure builds and her body trembles, hovering dangerously close to her release. My fingers scrape over her ass cheek, leaving a trail of fire as goosebumps erupt in their wake. Ragged breaths spill from her lips as she arches up, her breasts bouncing as she lingers on the edge of the cliff. I leave her there for far too long, letting her drown in agony before I finally shove her off.
She comes with a cry, her body jerking with violent spasms as she gushes into my mouth. I lap at her, soaking up her cum until it pushes me past my breaking point.
Fisting my cock, I lean over her, slapping one palm on the bed as I blow my load all over her pussy. Pleasure rolls through my body as I watch my hot cum drip down into her hole. It summons the beast in me, and I can’t deny him.
I scoop up my cum and shove it deeper inside her with two of my fingers. A breath catches in her lungs as our gazes collide. And in that moment, as my eyes move over her, panting and stuffed full of my seed, a thought settles in my mind.
You just signed a deal with the devil, Abella Moretti.
10
ABELLA
The sound of my alarm drags me from the clutches of a dream that fades into oblivion almost as soon as I open my eyes.
Only fragments remain, hovering at the edges of my memory.
Dark, velvety eyes.
Tension.
Heat.
Release.
Uncertainty burrows in my chest as I sit up, glancing at the bed in confusion. I’m sideways across the mattress, tangled up in my bedcovers. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a restless night’s sleep, but that doesn’t account for the fact that my nightgown is askew, and my thighs are sticky and wet.
I sit there for a moment, trying to piece together what I thought was a dream. My eyes move over the room, looking for visual confirmation that my stalker was here, but I don’t see any. It isn’t until I’m in the shower washing my body that I notice the hickey on my breast and the fingerprint bruises on my thighs.
“Holy…” My words die a slow death as I rub my fingers over the marks, noting the absence of pain.
That’s when the memory comes flooding back.
His face was between my thighs. His mouth was on me…tongue inside me. And as a parting gift, he left his brand all over me.
But it wasn’t just that. It was the familiar edge of wrath in those biting words and harsh commands. I know I didn’t imagine it this time.
It had to be Angelo.
“Oh my god.” I press my palm against the shower wall, trying to get my bearings.
When I close my eyes, I can still feel the way his fingers wrapped around my throat. Did he come here to kill me and…this happened instead?
My stomach somersaults as I consider that to be the most likely scenario. If he were any other man in the Cosa Nostra, I’d already be dead. You don’t humiliate a member of the family and live to tell the tale. I always knew it was a possibility when he came back. I just thought I had more time.
My legs feel like rubber as I step out of the shower, my mind working overtime to recall every detail of last night. I piece together as much as I can as I ready myself for work.
The undeniable proof is on my body—someone was here. But was it really him, or am I losing my mind?
I can’t forget how unaffected he was yesterday. He could barely withhold his disdain for me. Natalia told me he’s engaged, and I know him to be a man of honor. He might be brutal and full of quiet rage, but when he gives his word to someone, he doesn’t falter. So why would he be here?
The visceral memory of him shoving his cum inside me sends a jolt of panic through me.
“Jesus,” I whisper. Did he really do that?
The alarm on my phone goes off, signaling I have thirty minutes to get to the boat so I can make the appointment with my client on time. I latch onto the distraction, pushing my thoughts of whatever the hell happened last night aside as I finish my hair and makeup.
When I’m presentable, I grab my phone and briefcase and take the stairs quietly, hoping to miss my father. But when I notice his office is empty, I pause on the last stair. He must be out today.