by Bella J
“Never make the mistake of forgetting who’s in control here, Mila.” The edge of the stainless steel piped barrier pressed against my ass, his arm snaking up to my back as he steadied me. For a second, I glanced back, and fear carved its way into me, twisting my insides as I watched the turbulent waves crash against the side of the yacht, darkness painting the ripples with only the shimmer of moonlight highlighting the tide. Instinctively, I tightened my hold around his neck. If he let go, nothing would stop me from plunging into the endless depth of the ocean. No one would be able to save me.
“Saint, what are you doing?”
“What better way to show you who’s in control than placing your life in my hands?” With his one arm wrapped around me, he positioned himself between my legs. “A wife should trust her husband.”
“A husband shouldn’t risk the life of his wife,” I countered.
“You need to trust me, Mila.” He reached down between us, and the tip of his cock nudged at my entrance, igniting renewed desire that slowly smothered the fear of sitting on a ledge, one wrong move away from plummeting into the ocean. “Can you do that?” Sapphire eyes bored into mine, the darkness of his carnal hunger casting shadows across his every feature.
He brought his lips up to mine, slightly parted, ready to consume me with a greed fueled by a lust strong enough to suffocate every rational act, every logical thought. Nothing about this moment, about us, had ever been rational or logical. It was reckless, foolish, and coated in madness. But I had never felt so alive as I did in that moment.
Fear subsided as he eased his cock inside me, filling my body to the brim and chasing away all my inhibitions.
I leaned my forehead against his and let out a shaky breath at the same time he exhaled. One hand slithered up my spine, fingers grabbing the back of my neck as he wrapped his other around my waist. “How does it feel, Mila? To know I could let go at any time, yet not care because all you want, all your body wants right now, right at this very moment, is the pleasure only I can give you?”
“You’re crazy,” I muttered breathlessly, his cock slipping out of me and back in.
“Am I?” Abruptly, he slammed his lips against mine and kissed me as if he was the one sitting on the edge of the barrier, as if he would be the one falling to his death if he didn’t taste me. Ravage me. Devour me.
His tongue swept through my mouth like a hurricane—his taste blended with mine to form our own brand of heroin. A drug only we could get high on. Intoxicated and drunk with desire, I clawed at his scalp while kissing him back with equal vigor. The summer breeze grew stronger, a wind that sliced around us, as if it could feel the energy that surged from my body to his. Waves of electricity that crackled so loudly, it drowned out the sound of caution. All I heard was the thump of my wildly beating heart, and the filthy melody that played from our lips.
Saint inched back, his cock still buried to the hilt inside me. “You say I’m crazy, yet you’re the one sitting on a ledge craving my cock more than you crave your next breath.”
“A carnal sin I’ll probably pay for dearly by going to hell.”
“The devil needs to take you from me first.” His hips flexed, and he plunged hard into me, my ass shifting farther off the edge. But I didn’t care. The white crested waves below us were long forgotten. The only thing that mattered was this high we were on. The ecstasy. This feeling of invincibility while our bodies merged together as one.
It was crazy. I was crazy, but by God, I trusted him. In that moment of rapture, I trusted him with my life. A blind trust that made me bold, confident, brave…irrational.
I let go of him and dropped my arms to my sides, wrapping my fingers around the ledge. A whimper slipped from my lips when he thrust between my legs and tightened his grip behind my neck. He reached up with his other arm, and his fingers tore at my dress, pulling the fabric down to expose my breast, the salty air dancing across my naked skin.
“Jesus, Mila,” he muttered as I leaned back, arching my body and craning my neck. The only thing that kept me from falling was the unsteady grip I had on the ledge and his strong arm snaked up my back.
“You wanted me to trust you,” I breathed. “This is me trusting you.”
I clenched my thighs, squeezing him tight between my legs. A guttural moan ripped from his throat, and he bent down, taking my hardened nipple in his mouth, tugging, sucking, lapping, devouring. He kept a steady rhythm, rolling his hips with every thrust. If he lost control, if he gave in to the frenzy that threatened to consume him, he would lose his grip and I’d tip over. But he was right, I cared more about the pleasure I knew he could give me than the breath that could be my last.
His tongue teased the tip of my nipple before it slipped from between his lips. His rhythmic thrust never faltered, my arousal making it easy for his cock to move in and out of me. My body had grown accustomed to him, adjusted to him as if it had finally found the one it belonged to.
I wanted to lean back more, suddenly addicted to the thrill and how the adrenaline heightened my senses, intensifying every sensation that possessed me. But Saint growled and cursed before grabbing my arm and pulling me up, both arms coiled tightly around my waist.
With my body flush against his, I wrapped my arms around his neck, his warm, labored breaths kissing the sensitive skin of my neck. “You are poison, Mila.”
“Yet I’m the one slowly dying.”
He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, his teeth grazing against my throat. “I will hunt for you even in death.”
His thrusts became stronger, harder, deeper. My whimpers turned to moans, creating a sonnet of chaos together with the sound of waves below us.
Saint reached between us, and I cried out the second he touched my clit, pressing down hard, giving me the last push I needed to reach the crescendo I had craved ever since I walked up those goddamn stairs.
My body erupted, every muscle pulled taut as the orgasm he fucked into me threatened to tear me apart. His fingers bit into my sides, and he buried his face in my neck, cursing as he came, pouring his climax inside me.
After one final thrust, he yanked me from the ledge, and we both collapsed, spent, our breaths loud and rapid. My heart was beating like a drum, an echo of exhaustion and adrenaline blended together in a rapture I had never experienced before.
I was still trying to catch my breath when his arms took me captive and pulled me close, chest to chest so our hearts beat as one. With his back against the barrier, Saint settled me on his lap and cradled me in his arms. The moment was powerful enough to stop time, the moment Marcello Saint Russo showed me more affection than he ever had before. His arms didn’t bind. It didn’t apprehend or arrest. Even though he held me tight, it wasn’t because of his physical strength. It was desperation. As if he tried to cocoon me, trying to stop me from slipping from his grasp. For a second, I wasn’t sure whether I was just high from fucking on the edge—literally—and if this was really happening. Was it possible the stone-cold walls that constantly surrounded Saint had begun to crumble? Brick by brick. Piece by piece?
We didn’t speak. We didn’t move. We sat there for what seemed like hours yet felt like seconds. Time seized. Circumstances vanished. And all that remained was us. Two people under a blanket of stars where the world around us no longer existed.
Saint eased his hand up and down my arm then glanced at his Rolex. “It’s twelve-o-two a.m. New day. New question.”
“I’m not sure I want to ask you anything right now.”
“Why is that?”
I lifted my face to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to ruin this.” I nestled my face back against his shoulder, still safely cradled in his arms. “This is the most normal moment I’ve had with you. And whether this is real or not, for now I choose to believe it is. It will give me strength to face whatever tomorrow brings.” I pressed my body harder against his. “Whatever your next move may be.”
“What makes you think I have a next move?”
“You’re Marcello Saint Russo. You always have a next move.”
He let out a low, grumbled snicker that reverberated from his chest. “Seems like you’re starting to figure me out.”
I looked up at him from under my lashes. “Is that not what a wife is supposed to do? Figure out her husband so she knows how to support him best?”
Our gazes locked, his eyes no longer a storming ocean, but rather a calm blue sky. It was the first time I’d seen him look at me in that way—as if I was no longer something he wanted to use, but rather something he wanted to protect. It was unnerving how one simple glance shared between us could fill my belly with a thousand fluttering wings of butterflies that were kept prisoner inside me.
He tilted his head and brushed a curl from my cheek, his fingers as gentle as the breeze. “You trust me?”
“No,” I answered without hesitation. “But for some reason, I trust what I’m feeling when I’m with you.”
“And what’s that?”
I reached up and cupped his cheek, and his lips parted from my touch. “I’m not sure yet. But whatever it is, it’s making me breathe easier.”
He placed his hand over mine. “There’s only one way an angel can lose her wings…and that’s by trusting the devil.”
“Luckily, I’m no angel.” I leaned my head back down on his shoulder. “At least not anymore.”
Silence settled once again, but this time I could hear the steady beating of his heart. It was surprisingly comforting. How could the devil’s heartbeat be so soothing, calming, as if my chaos craved his? Was it possible there had been a darkness in me all along, a shadow that finally found the phantom it needed to cling to in order to thrive?
Enveloped by his warmth and enclosed by his strong arms, my eyelids grew heavy. The rhythmic crash of waves, the cool breeze that kissed my skin, and the beautiful sound of his blackened beating heart appeased me, and I gently slipped from consciousness to a peaceful slumber.
“Saint?”
“Yeah.” His fingers caressed my bare arm.
“Can we stay here?” I nestled deeper into him. “Just tonight.”
He took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay.” His lips brushed against my hair. “Just tonight.”
10
Saint
She had been sleeping against my chest for hours, and I never closed my eyes once. Like the song went, I didn’t want to miss a thing. I didn’t want to miss a second of how her beauty beamed while she slept so peacefully. Who knew when all this started that I’d be sitting here, flat on my ass with the Torres girl in my arms? I sure as fuck never could have imagined this would be where we’d end up, that this woman would fuck with my head and make me question everything. Milana Torres was supposed to be nothing but a pawn, yet here she was—the beautiful face of a complication a man like me couldn’t afford. But right now, right this moment, it seemed I was willing to pay any price, sacrifice everything if it meant she’d stay mine. Every moment, every second that passed, my need for revenge dripped from an open wound in my soul while Mila filled the emptiness with something that made me care less and less about the factors that had forced her into my life in the first place.
Her soft, rhythmic breathing soothed me, and I loved how it felt having her in my arms, how she snuggled up against me, her beautiful lips slightly parted as she slept. Like an angel, she hypnotized me, made me see things in a different light. For hours, I sat there and wondered how it was possible for her to change the last twenty years of my life within the span of weeks. I went from strong in vengeance to weak in love—or whatever the fuck this was I felt for this woman. It probably wasn’t love. A man like me wasn’t capable of loving, yet I knew what I was feeling was the closest I’d ever come to it. The question was…would I let it continue to weaken me? Or did I fight it to regain the power I had worked so hard for—power to destroy my father and the evil he had brought into my life? Everything my father touched turned to black, which was why we were in the middle of this war in the first place.
I glanced down at her and brushed a curl from her face.
What if I had the same toxic touch as my father? What if I only corrupted instead of protected?
“Don’t.”
I looked up at Aunt Elena who stood by the stairs, clutching her black silk nightgown, hair cascading down her shoulders. “Don’t let the memory of your father and what happened to your mother poison what you’re feeling for her.”
Instinctively, my hold around Mila tightened, her deep breathing reassuring me that she was still fast asleep. “How can I not? The same toxic blood that flows through my father’s veins pulses through mine.”
“A man’s soul is in his blood, and your soul is nothing like your father’s.”
“I’ve killed before.” I looked at her. “I’ve done more wrong than right in my life.”
“Because of your father, yes. Not because of who you are.”
“Then why do I like it?” I challenged. “Why do I like killing? Why does spilling blood and extracting revenge make me feel invincible with a rush no drug can ever give me?”
Elena stepped closer, clutching her nightgown at her chest. “Because it overpowers your pain. It makes you feel something other than hate and grief…just like she does.” She looked down at Mila. “She makes you feel something that smothers the pain…doesn’t she?”
I clenched my jaw and looked away at the glimmer of sunrays that started to appear at the end of the ocean.
“Admit it, Marcello,” Elena urged, keeping her voice low to not disturb Mila. “You’re feeling something for this girl, something that’s far more terrifying than what’s been fueling your need for vengeance against your father.”
“This wasn’t the plan.” Anger surged as it always did when the topic of my father came up in conversation. “She wasn’t supposed to be anything but a pawn.”
“Yet she is. Look at her. She’s sleeping in your arms, Marcello. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so peaceful. And I have definitely never seen you so torn, so conflicted. That means there’s something. There’s something here, between the two of you.”
“What are you trying to say, Aunt Elena?” I snapped and glanced down to make sure I hadn’t disturbed Mila, who stirred lightly, nestling deeper into my arm.
Elena turned toward the stairs and looked my way. “I’m saying that the day will come when you will need to make a decision. Continue to pursue this war against your father…or her. You can’t have both. Not with a girl like her.”
The warning dropped over me like a veil, a dark, thunderous cloud that threatened to open the gates of hell. I felt it, the sense of foreboding that followed Elena’s words as she walked away. Truth was, Elena didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. I knew Mila was different from the day I planted lead in Brad’s skull. If she was any other woman, she would have broken down. She would have done anything and everything I told her to do out of fear. But not Mila. She defied me at every opportunity with a fire that burned in her dark eyes. It was that fire that intrigued me, made me do things differently than I had planned. And look now. Here we were, and she was sleeping like a goddamn angel in my arms at dawn as if we were lovers living in a world of our own. But we weren’t. This was my world. This was my hell, and I had pulled her all the way down with me.
I leaned my head back and stared out over the ocean in front of us. Last night played on repeat in my head. Flashes. Images. How the moonlight danced across her skin. How she surrendered her all, putting her trust in me by leaning over the ledge with nothing but my arm around her waist keeping her from falling. It was daunting yet fucking beautiful. While buried balls deep inside her, it wasn’t my quest for pleasure that consumed me. It wasn’t the lust that burned in my veins that fueled me. It was her. Milana Katarina Torres. The woman who showed me her at her weakest, at her most vulnerable. Me. The monster who snatched her from her world. The devil who dragged her through hell without thinking twice of how the flames burned her.
A selfish bastard.
That was who I was. All the power and money in the world couldn’t have made me a better man. All it took was her—an orphan—to make me want to be better. But how? How did I go from a man who had been obsessed with revenge for so long to a man whose sole purpose was to protect that which was most precious to him?
Mila stirred, nuzzling her cheek against my chest. I took her hand and brought my lips down to kiss it like a tender lover. A man who silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep his wife safe.
I gently shifted beneath her as I touched her cheek. “Mila. It’s time to wake up.”
The moans that rolled from her lips made me want to kiss her. I wanted to claim her mouth and never stop.
“Mila.” I placed my hand under her chin, touching her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. “Wake up, segreto.”
She lifted her head and opened her eyes. I saw the moment she realized where she was, remembering what had happened. Her cheeks flushed the most radiant shade of pink, her eyes dark and beautiful.
“We slept here?” She sounded surprised.
I shrugged. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but—” She pulled a hand through her hair. “I just…I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think I’d do it.” It wasn’t a question.
Her tongue darted out and licked her lips. “Well, no.”
I smirked. I wasn’t the least surprised by her confusion. I’d been an asshole to her for so long, she didn’t expect anything better.
I pushed myself up and held out a hand to her, helping her to her feet, then cupped her chin as I lifted her face to mine. “Last night, you showed me that you trusted me with your life. I need to know if you still feel the same, or if it was just—”
