by K. A. Ware
There was no substitute; I'd tried to deny myself, tried to pretend that she didn't have any power over me, but I was wrong.
I hurriedly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans over my straining cock, desperate to feel her around me. She clung to my shoulders, her nails scouring my back as I loomed over her with one arm on the step next to her head and drove all the way into her in one powerful thrust.
My balls ached with pleasure. Sliding my free hand beneath her ass, I tilted her hips slightly before drawing back and plunging forward once more. She gasped at the way the new angle caused me to drag along her sweet spot. The strangled, nonsensical noises coming from her spurred me on. Soon our bodies were slicked with sweat, and I noticed a blush creeping up Victoria's inked chest.
Her whimpers got louder, and I felt her sharp nails on my back sink deeper into my skin. The bite of pain had a bolt of pleasure zipping up my spine and my balls drawing tight. I slid my hand from beneath her, bringing it around to thumb her clit. I needed her to come around me, needed to feel her pussy clench down tight around my cock.
She didn't disappoint. With just a few strokes, her body spasmed and convulsed, sending a shockwave through me. I came hard, spilling into her wet heat.
I relaxed on top of her, careful not to crush her, I held most of my weight on one hand while I wrapped the other around her waist and buried my face in her neck. I wasn't going to let her go this time. As fucked up as the situation was, there was no turning back for me. I just hoped she wouldn't fight me on it. Because if she did, she was in for a surprise.
She was mine, and no amount of protest from her would change that.
We lay on the stairs, catching our breath as I held her and her hands roamed across my back. Suddenly, I felt her body tense in my arms.
"Shit you're bleeding."
I lifted my head to see her holding her palm up for me to see. Sure enough, it was streaked with blood.
I shrugged. "You have claws, what did you expect?"
She blinked at me a few times before a sly smile crept across her face. Her rare smile was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I wanted to be the only reason it came out. My dick twitched, still inside her and she lifted an eyebrow at me in question.
I leaned down to kiss the smirk off her face. "I'm not done with you yet, but not here."
Securing my grip on her, I stood. She let out a sound of surprise and quickly wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs, still tethered together with the remnants of her leggings, unable to follow suit.
Carrying her the rest of the way up the stairs, I stopped at the landing, unsure of which way to turn. The realization that I'd never even seen her bedroom was like a slap in the face.
She didn't miss a beat though, pointing me toward the hallway to my left. "Last door on the right."
I hurriedly followed her direction, my jeans slipping further down my hips, in risk of impeding my ability to walk. Pushing open the door to her room, I flicked on the lights and was met with a riot of colors. Despite the fact that Vic rarely wore anything but black, her room was filled with color. The walls were painted a bright turquoise and highlighted with orange accents. Colorful paintings hung from every wall and framed pictures cluttered every flat surface. It was a sort of organized chaos that spoke to the part of herself she kept hidden away from the world.
Not to be deterred from my plan, I moved further into the room until I came to the only evidence of the woman I knew. A giant black wrought iron bed in the center of the space, a gauzy black material hung from the canopy, cocooning the white linens inside. I laid her down on the bed and went to work on removing her boots and shredded pants. Once she was bare to me, I stood back and took my fill of her. Her tanned skin a stark contrast to the bright white of the sheets.
"Fucking perfect."
Shucking off the rest of my clothes, I climbed onto the bed over her. Her limbs wrapped around me as I kissed a path from her collarbone up her neck, before nipping at her ear and whispering the declaration that would change everything.
"You're mine."
Chapter Fifteen
VIC
With my head propped up on one hand, I laid on my side next to Antonio. Our legs intertwined, as I lazily traced the paths of muscle across his chest and abs. His body was perfection. All cut lines and defined muscle encased in soft, supple skin. The man was a specimen.
But he was also insane.
His words from the night before had been playing through my thoughts all morning. You're mine. He'd been so sure, so resolute; there was no way I would've been able to argue the sentiment. I didn't like the thought of belonging to anyone but remembering the way he'd worshiped me after he'd said it made goosebumps break out across my skin. He didn't seem to want to control me, at least not outside of the realm of sex; he was a bossy fucker when it came to sex.
Antonio laid beside me, one arm curled around my waist and the other underneath his head. He wasn't looking at me. Instead, he was staring at the ceiling, his features, usually marred by a scowl, now content in a lazy satisfaction. His sharp jaw covered in a slight stubble that I could still feel between my thighs.
"Tell me something," I asked suddenly, my fingers never stopping their perusal.
He gave me a side-eye glance, suspicion evident. "About what?"
"About you. I don't know anything about you. Tell me something real."
He was quiet for a long while, considering my request. I could practically see him weighing the pros and cons of giving me any information, and it grated on my nerves. After everything, I'd told him, and his little declaration, he still didn't trust me? I'd opened up every dark corner of my business, told him about my brother and he was still hesitant?
Just as I was about to give up and throw him out for pissing me off, his sleep-deprived voice cut through the silence. "My mother sold me like a slave to my uncle."
I dared a glance at his face, the shadows in his eyes were back.
"How do you mean?"
"When I was twenty, my uncle called on me to come to the states. He needed someone loyal. A backup plan and he chose me."
"What do you mean he needed a backup plan?"
"His son, my cousin, Carlo, wasn't obedient enough for his liking. He thought that if he brought me in under his wing, he could mold me into the replica of him that he couldn't get his son to be. That way, if things with his son didn't work out the way he'd planned, he'd have me to carry on in his place."
I asked the question, even though I was fairly sure I knew the answer. "And how did that work out for him?"
"His belief in my loyalty got him killed."
I kept silent, waiting for him to explain. If he thought I'd be satisfied with a few clipped answers, he was sorely mistaken.
"My uncle was not a good man. It's better this way."
"Are you? A good man I mean." I was curious to hear what perception he had about himself; it was something I struggled after Santi's death. I'd gone off the rails with my need for vengeance, and it took me a long time to find peace with who and what I was.
"No." His answer was straightforward and without further explanation. It made me wonder what he considered to be a good man.
My vision of what made someone good or bad was distorted, I knew that. But I also knew that making a choice between what was right and what was wrong didn't always fall in line with what most people would consider good and bad. There were different levels of evil in our world, and while I wasn't an angel, I believed I did what was right for me and the people I cared about. I tried to toe the line between right and wrong.
"What did you mean come to the States? Where were you?" I asked sensing the need for a subject change.
He turned his head a question he didn't voice on his face. "I was born and raised in the coastal village of Marsala, Sicily."
I was taken aback at his admission. I wouldn't have ever guessed that he wasn't American. "But you don't have an accent."
He chuckled at that. "No, I do
n't. I had a very expensive English tutor growing up, and I've been in the United States for a long time, I worked hard to lose it."
"Say something in Italian."
Antonio groaned and bit his lip, the action so unlike what I'd grown to expect from him that it caught me off guard. "I'm not good with words, what about you? Say something in Spanish for me."
I wasn't budging. "You first."
He rolled me onto my back until he was poised hovering above me. Lowering his head, he placed a gentle kiss on my mouth. So gentle it almost felt like a goodbye. He traced the outline of my lips with his fingertips
"Sono dipendente dei tua bocca non esiste una cura, ma il tua bacio," he whispered. "I'm addicted to your mouth; the only cure is your kiss."
A smile broke across my face but was at a loss for words. A feeling of longing blanketed me, and I felt the strange sensation of missing him, even though he was right in front of me.
When I didn't say anything, Antonio bent his head and left a trail of wet kisses along my cheek to my ear. "Your turn."
When he pulled back to look at me, I took the opportunity to place my hands on either side of his face and stare into his eyes saying the first thing that popped into my mind.
"Me llevará toda la vida lograr olvidarte. It will take a lifetime to forget you."
I knew the torment I saw in his eyes was reflected in my own. We wanted what we had in this room to stay that way forever. But we both knew that it was impossible. Despite my better judgment, I'd let him in when I'd rejected everyone that had come before him. There was something about his dark eyes, about the way that he seemed to look through me versus at me, that compelled me to dive deeper.
Without saying a word, I shifted, and Antonio adjusted himself so that he was cradled between my thighs, his quickly hardening erection hot against my skin. He bent his head and captured my mouth with his own, his kiss more insistent this time, as if he could sense the clock counting down on what we had.
In one fluid movement, he thrust into me. I gasped into his mouth, begging him for more, more friction, more intensity, more time. He devoured my mouth as he powered into me, it wasn't gentle, but it also wasn't the destructively rough sex that we'd had before.
The intensity of our connection was electric. It was as if we were trying to somehow fuse ourselves together before reality came crashing back down.
"We should probably get out of bed at some point today." My voice muffled by the pillow. We'd spent the morning, and much of the afternoon tangled in each other, there was sex, of course, but we talked more than anything. For hours, we picked each other's brains, told stories of our childhood and generally just rang out the last bit of time we had in our little oasis.
Antonio had told me about his cousin and brother and the role he played in their version of a family business, I'd told him about Luis and Santi and how we'd come to live in Portland. We didn't hold back; there was no suspicion or judgment. Being with Antonio like this was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before; I was comfortable baring my stained and battered soul. He didn't seem put off by my strength like most men; it actually seemed like it turned him on. I recognized it as a rare quality in a man like Antonio.
"You're probably right. We still need to find out who's behind all this. The overdoses have slowed, but they're still happening, if we don't get a handle on this soon, I don't want to know what will happen."
And there it is.
Antonio had effectively burst the bubble and let in the blinding light of reality. I'd all but forgotten why he was in Portland in the first place and the threat of what he'd be tasked with if we couldn't figure out what was going on. I didn't think that he would kill me anymore, but that didn't mean my entire business wasn't still at stake.
"I'm going to take a shower," I announced, rolling out of bed and putting an extra sway in my hips. If I was lucky, he'd follow me, and I'd get one last orgasm before I had to put on my boss face and crack skulls.
If Antonio was anything, it was insatiable. Not two minutes after I'd stepped into the hot spray of the water, I heard him step into the shower behind me. Big hands glided along my soap slicked skin, and I felt the bite of his sharp teeth on my shoulder as he came to stand behind me.
"I hope you're not too sore because I want to live out a fantasy I've had since the first time I saw you walk down those stairs."
I turned in his arms and linked my fingers behind his neck. "And what's this fantasy of yours entail?"
His mouth kicked up in a wickedly crooked grin. "It's fairly intricate; I'll walk you through it."
"Oh, you will?"
He nodded. "Yes, and if you're good and follow instructions, I'll even let you come."
A sharp thrill ran through me, his words an obvious challenge. "You'll let me?"
He brought down one of his hands on my ass in a hard smack; the delicious sting had my clit pulsing. "Only if you're good."
Damn him, but I wanted it. He had a way of making me crave his bossy ass. "So how does this fantasy start?"
Mischief lit in his eyes. "With you on your knees."
"Here?" We were in the middle of my shower. It was big but certainly not the most accommodating place to act out your wildest desires.
He inclined his head. "Right here. I want you to get on your knees and let me feed you my cock, inch by inch until you can't take anymore. Then, I'm going to fuck your mouth." Leaning in close, he circled my neck with one of his large hands. He didn't squeeze, but the dominant move had my heart rate kicking up. "I want to hear you gag, just a little, every time my cock hits the back of your throat."
Holy hell.
His filthy fucking mouth would be my undoing. If he ever realized what his words did to me, I'd be a slave to him.
Dropping a heavy hand on my shoulder, he guided me to my knees and did just as he promised. Fisting his thick erection, he pushed it past my open and waiting lips and into the heat of my mouth. The taste of him had me moaning and my eyes falling closed.
"Open your eyes and look at me."
When I didn't immediately comply, he fisted a hand in my wet hair and tugged. "I said look at me." There wasn't venom in his voice, but he made it clear he wasn't in the mood to compromise. Deciding to allow him his fantasy, I flicked my eyes up to his. "Fucking perfect," he groaned and began pumping into my mouth.
While I thoroughly enjoyed his domineering nature, I couldn't just sit back and let him have all the fun. Reaching up, I cupped his balls and rolled them in my hand. His hips kicked forward at the sensation, and his thrusts became more vigorous.
"Fuck, yes. I've been jerking off to the thought of your lips around my cock for weeks. This is so much fucking better."
I hummed around his dick, garnering a loud expletive. Slipping my free hand between my thighs, I felt the undeniable slickness of my desire on my fingertips. I circled my sensitive clit and tightened my lips around him on a loud moan.
Antonio froze, mid thrust, and I realized belatedly that I'd closed my eyes again. Looking up at him, I saw the hellfire in his eyes that I'd seen the first time we were together. He pulled out of my mouth quickly and tightened his grip on my hair, tugging so that I would stand. "I didn't tell you, you could touch yourself," he growled.
I felt my eyebrows furrow. What the hell was he talking about?
That hand from before circled my neck once again, this time squeezing ever so slightly. The movement made me break out in a flush. I'd never been with anyone like him before, and I'd certainly never thought I'd like the idea of being choked during sex, but with Antonio, it felt like everything he did, had me on the edge of orgasm.
His nose trailed up my cheek. "You've got to play by the rules if you want to come. And it won't be by your hand, every time you come from now on it's going to be because of me. No toys, no touching yourself unless I tell you to."
I couldn't help but poke the bear. "What about other men?"
His hand involuntarily twitched at my neck. "You're mine. If any man
ever so much as touches you again, I'll cut off their fucking dick and feed it to them."
As fucked up as it was, my pussy clenched at the thought. Antonio wasn't a man to make idle threats; he meant what he said. I was positive that he would make good on his promise.
He pulled back and looked at me, the mask he'd put on for our little game, slipping away for a moment. "I'm serious," he said, looking at me with earnest eyes.
I could feel the pulse in my neck where it pounded against his thumb. "I know," I whispered. For some reason, I didn't feel like my answer should be spoken above a whisper, almost like it wasn't real if I didn't say it out loud.
Without warning, Antonio's mouth came crashing down on mine. There was more than passion in his kiss; there was a promise, one that I wasn't sure I was ready for. Releasing his grip on my neck he reached down and cupped my ass, lifting me up and pinning me against the shower wall, all without breaking our kiss.
All pretenses of our earlier playfulness gone, he positioned himself at my entrance but didn't move to take it any further. He pulled away and searched my eyes. "Say it."
It took a second for me to find my voice. "Say what?"
"That you're mine. I need to hear you say it."
There was only one way I was going to admit to the power he held over me. "You say it first."
"What?"
"If I'm yours then you're mine. That's how this works."
There was no grin of triumph, no cocky response, just the gravel of his voice and a solemn vow. "I'm yours."
I gripped the sides of his face in both hands and stared into his coal colored eyes. "I'm yours."
He thrust upwards and lowered me quickly at the same time, resulting in a feeling of fullness I'd never experienced. I saw stars and screamed out his name as he fucked me senseless against the cold tiled wall.
"Fuck, you're so fucking tight. Your pussy was made for my cock. Can you feel it? How fucking perfect it is?"
