“S-stop,” I rasp.
Lucifer stills his brutal pounding, and I don’t let myself dwell on how sudden—how easily—he listened to the plea. I don’t care that the monster heeds the commanding pull on his leash. I twist out from under him, hissing as he withdraws, still impossibly thick. I’m transfixed on the gleaming, swollen head of him—wet from me. Throbbing for me.
I flip over until my back is pressed against the couch, and I dig my heels into the floor, spreading my legs wide on either side of him, and lift my hips. He stares at the offering between my legs, and his eyes shoot black. One of his hands catches the side of my waist, wrenching me forward, and he sinks deep. To the goddamn hilt.
My head falls back as my eyes shut and my teeth clatter against the carnal, incredible pleasure.Yes. This is better.I throw myself on him, feeling resistant parts of me spread easily, letting him in even deeper. Harder.
Yes.
My knees tighten, trapping his hips between them while he continues to thrust. My heels dig into the backs of his thighs, urging him on, driving him deeper still. I’m gasping, staring up at the ceiling as my eyes flutter open when he hits some soft, inner part of me that makes sparks shoot through every single nerve ending. My toes curl. My hands find his shoulders, using the grip for leverage to thrust against him. Fuck him back.
“God,” I hear myself croak, clawing at his shirt. “Damn. F-fuck. Sh-shit.” The curses come like candy, another display that would be forbidden around Vinny—but even they aren’t enoughto describe it. I have to dig deeper into my arsenal of words. “Fuck.Fuck.Bosta. Filho da puta—”
Lucifer’s growl swallows up my voice, and we both spiral. I’m exploding. My blood is pure gasoline, thrown onto an untamable flame. It’s too much—pain, pleasure, everything. I lose myself. Daniela Manzano is finally annihilated, and she relishes the carnage made of her own skin.
I’m still on fire when Lucifer pulls out of me a second time and flips me onto my belly so that I’m lying flat on the carpet. He strokes himself—there’s no mistaking the audible glide of flesh against wet, tender flesh. I hear him groan, and then I feel the mark of his release, burning ropes of it, lash against my lower back.
My heart races. I can’t shut out the memory of Vinny doing the same, and I expect the same disgust to flare up. But it doesn’t. Lucifer seems to like the sight of his semen on my skin though. He leans over me, his weight grinding my chin into the carpet amid a stinging ache. Something sweeps up from the side of my belly over to my spine, and I flinch in surprise. His hand. He’s marking me, rubbing his seed into my skin.
It’s the worst thing he could possibly do to me.
The substance is an antiseptic against the festering wound that I’d forgotten dwells there. I go limp in shock and just listen to the startlingly wet sound as my skin accepts him. My body quakes against his callused fingertips, chasing that relief. It hurts that I crave this base, violent claiming almost as much as I craved the violent sex. Tears sting my eyes, and I can’t blink them back. My throat contracts around the hint of a sob, and it’s like a dam breaking. Within seconds, I’m writhing, choking on gasping, wrenching sobs as my eyes stream and the fire he set slowly consumes the rest of my body.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dante
The fucking buzzing won’t be silencedthis time. It hammers away at my skull, even as my cock finally deflates and Stacatto’s whore is painted with my cum. It’s ironic how her skin still glistens beneath the obscenity; she’ll wear a man’s mark just as easily as silk. Though her new accessory comes with a high price. She shows more emotion now than when I severed part of her ear.
I suppose some part of me should feel proud at breaking her, but all I feel is irritation: the heat, the insatiable prickle in my skin, the goddamnbuzzing. Even her strangled gasps aren’t enough to smother the sound ripping through my head. It’s instant. It’s pounding. It’s...
Someone knocking on the goddamn door.
“What the fuck do you want?” I growl while my hand flies out for my jeans. I yank them on one-handed and stagger for the door.
When I wrench it open, I expect to find Arno or maybe one of his men on the other side of it. Though, these days, who knows where the kid’s loyalty lies anymore? There’s no hint of it now asEspi watches me coldly, his eyes raking over my bare chest and my unfastened jeans.
“Am I interrupting something?” His gaze cuts to the woman he only catches a glimpse of, her naked body contorted by her muffled cries. Shock tightens his mouth before I can force myself through the doorway and slam the door shut behind me.
“Espi...” I observe him from head to toe.
He’s wearing clothes similar to the ones he was wearing in Van Hallen’s snapshot: a dark hoodie and filthy, paint-stained jeans. The expression on his face is a little different though; instead of looking fierce and determined, he stares right through me.
“Having fun?” he wonders, jerking his chin toward the door.
Fuck.
“It... That isn’t what it looks like.” I shouldn’t have to explain shit to him, but I can’t shake the urge to defend myself against the accusations I can see forming in his eyes. That bruised, broken woman had nothing to do with me.
“Oh, I’m sure it isn’t,” he says, spitting the words at me. “You... You’re no different thanhim.”
“What...what did you just say?” Rage smothers everything. My ears pop with the clarity it brings. Ruby taints the edges of my vision, and it takes every ounce of concentration I have to blink it back. “Don’t you ever...ever compare me to that bastard—”
“Why not?” Espi eyes the door to my apartment again. “Like father, like son—”
I see scarlet. I fucking taste it. The rage breaks loose from its chains for only a second, but it’s long enough. My knuckles burn and Espi’s clutching the left side of his face.
“Nice one, Dante,” he grits out along with a harsh chuckle. His jaw won’t bruise, but he still winces as he pulls his hand away. “Yeah, you’resodifferent.”
