Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)

by Cora Reilly

  My body hummed with the remnants of pleasure, a distant memory my body was eager to refresh. I’d never experienced sensations like that. But worse, Remo’s words had been proven true. I’d never felt freer than in that moment with Remo between my legs, showing me pleasure. It had felt amazing, freeing, and utterly wrong. All my life I had been taught to be honorable, to do what was expected of me, and today I’d gone against it all.

  Dark and tall, Remo appeared in the doorway, come to claim his prize. His eyes roamed over my naked body, and mine did the same.

  He was cruel and twisted. Beyond redemption.

  Brutal attractiveness, forbidden pleasure, promised pain. I should have been disgusted by him, but I wasn’t. Not by his body and not always by his nature.

  I shut off the water, scared of what he wanted, completely terrified of what I wanted. This was his game of chess; he was the king and I was the trapped queen that the Outfit needed to protect. He moved me into position for his last move: the kill. Check.

  He began unbuttoning his shirt then shrugged it off. He moved closer, stopping right before me. “You always watch me like something you want to touch but aren’t allowed to. Who’s holding you back, Angel?”

  “Nothing’s holding me back. I don’t want to,” I muttered with false bravado, the lie ringing loud and clear.

  “Is that so?” Remo asked quietly. He reached for my hand, and I let him. Let him put my palm against his strong chest, let him slide it lower, over the hard lines of muscles, over the rough scars. He placed my palm over his belt then released me. “Don’t you want to be free of society’s shackles for once? To do something forbidden?”

  What I wanted more than anything was his twisted smile gone. I gripped his belt and tugged him toward me, angrily, desperately, because I was falling, already lost, content to lose myself. His lips crashed down on mine, tongue domineering my mouth, hands rough against my ass. He jerked me up and against him so his erection pressed against my center.

  I gasped, which he swallowed with his lips.

  My fingers hooked in his waistband, scared and curious. Remo caught my gaze, his full of hunger and harshness. He ripped his mouth away from mine, backing me into the wall. “Be brave, Angel.”

  I curled my fingers in his belt and held his gaze as I opened the buckle. The clink was the sound of my last wall crumbling. Gripping his zipper, I pulled it slowly down, terrified and aroused. Then I paused.

  Remo bent low, his mouth brushing my ear. “I’m not a patient man. You are playing with fire.”

  Forcing down my nerves, I turned my face, bringing my own lips to his ear. “Oh, Remo, I will be your first angel. Patience is a virtue, and you will be rewarded for it.” I kissed his ear then trailed my tongue over the rim.

  He exhaled and pulled back so he could look at my face, and the look in his eyes, it almost made my knees buckle. For a second, I had him. I held the reins on the cruelest, most powerful man in the west, and it was thrilling. But Remo wouldn’t be Remo, wouldn’t be Capo, if he didn’t know how to take his power back.

  He grabbed his pants and pulled them down together with his boxers. His erection sprang free, and Remo braced himself against the wall with his hands on either side of my head.

  I stared down at him and sank back against the wall. He was long and thick and impossibly hard. I tore my gaze away, only to be hit with Remo’s penetrating stare.

  My cheeks blazed with heat, and Remo smiled as he leaned forward, trailing his tongue over my heated cheekbone. “Tell me, Angel, what will be my reward for my patience?”

  I stood on my tiptoes, curling my fingers over Remo’s neck, pulling myself up and against him. His hardness rubbed against my naked stomach, and he groaned a low, dangerous sound. “Something forbidden. Something you aren’t meant to be gifted.”

  Remo’s body became taut, eager, and he tipped my head back, his lips brushing mine. “Something you promised to someone else?”

  My throat tightened, but Remo kissed me hard, not allowing me to dwell on it. He hooked one of my legs up over his hip, opening me up. His fingers brushed my center, and then two fingers breached my opening. Pain shot through me. I ripped myself from his mouth, tensing, a choked sound bursting from my throat.

  Remo stilled, his fingers deep inside of me. He pulled back, a hint of surprise on his face, then it was gone. He regarded me intently, almost curiously. My chest heaved as I tried to grow used to the stretched sensation of having his fingers in me. Remo touched his forehead to mine. “I think you were right, Angel, my reward will be worth it.”

  Anger flooded me. “Did you enjoy hurting me?” I whispered.

  Remo kissed my lips. “This isn’t me hurting you. This is me trying not to hurt you. You will know when I want to hurt you.” He pulled his fingers out then slid them back in. My muscles clung to him, and I exhaled. He held my gaze as he established a slow rhythm. I leaned my head back against the wall, never averting my eyes.

  Remo’s dark eyes dragged me deeper and deeper down into their abyss. Pleasure slowly replaced the feeling of being stretched. I began rocking my hips, causing Remo’s erection to rub over my belly. His breathing deepened, but he kept up pumping his fingers into me at a slow pace, watching me, his other hand clinging to my outer thigh. A deep throbbing spread from my center, and I gasped, and not from pain this time. Remo’s thumb flicked over my nub, and I splintered from the inside out, into thousands of particles filled with sensation.

  Remo watched me hungrily, almost reverently, and I smiled, not even sure why. I was still reeling from my high when Remo pulled his fingers out and grabbed my other thigh, lifting me up, my back against the wall, my body trapped between it and his chest. And I knew what he wanted. My hands flew up to his chest, resisting. When his erection brushed my inner thigh, I gasped out, “No!”

  Remo’s dark eyes flew up to mine, angry, incredulous ... but he did pause. “Not like this,” I said quietly. “Not against a wall.” This would happen on my terms, not his.

  The anger lessened. “You are right,” he said darkly. He hoisted me higher so my legs wrapped around his middle, and my center pressed up against his six-pack. Then he walked with me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “I will fuck you on the bed, Angel. I put white sheets on for the occasion. What a pity it would have been if I didn’t stain them with your blood.”

  Shock and indignation shot through me because I realized my sheets had been white for a few days now, but then Remo kissed me. I dug my nails into his shoulders angrily and battled his tongue.

  We tugged and kissed and suddenly we were on the bed. Remo knelt between my legs, shoving them further apart, his mouth harsh against my throat, and I became still, soft, scared. This was it.

  Remo stilled above me and raised his head. Our eyes met. I don’t know what he saw in mine, but he cupped my cheek, startling me. His kisses became light, gentle, almost caring. So wrong. That wasn’t Remo. That was a lie. “Shh, Angel. I’ll be gentle.”

  His fingers stroked my breasts, my side, oh so gently, and his mouth ... his mouth dusted me with loving kisses. Even though I knew them to be false, knew I was supposed to shove him away, to put up a fight, I kissed him back. Lost, lost, lost.

  Remo molded our bodies together, shifting, and then I felt a light pressure against my opening.

  I gasped and tensed. Remo watched my face, full of intent, and his eyes ... they quieted my hesitation, my fear, any protest I might have come up with.

  He slid into me slowly, inch by inch, never taking more than my body could give, but still he seemed to tear me apart. A slow conquest but a conquest nevertheless. I’d expected brutality and cruelty. I wished for it. But this gentle Remo, he terrified me the most. He didn’t let me escape, not even the only way I could. He wanted to consume me with his eyes. He sunk all the way into me, and then he paused as I shivered under the force of the intrusion. His dark eyes said what I’d known all along.

  He possessed me. He owned me.

  I was
the queen.

  He was the king.

  Checkmate.

  REMO

  This was the ultimate victory over the Outfit. They didn’t know it yet, but they would soon. Serafina trembled under me, her marble cheeks flushed, lips parted. She was in pain, and somehow it didn’t please me because I had tried not to hurt her. I gave pain willingly, deliberately, freely. Not by accident.

  I held myself still, content in the feeling of her tight walls squeezing my cock mercilessly. I was fucking ecstatic feeling the slickness around me and knowing it was her virgin blood. The sweetest reward for my patience I could imagine.

  My eyes roamed Serafina’s perfect features, and her blue eyes met mine, searching, wondering. I pulled out of her slowly, recognizing the signs of pain in her expression, then pushed back in even slower.

  I rocked my hips slowly, keeping my movements as controlled as possible. Her face twisted with pain and pleasure, and I angled my hips to increase the latter. She gasped, surprised. I kept up the slow rhythm. Patience wasn’t my forte, but I knew this prize would be worth it too.

  She gasped again. Her pale blue eyes rose to mine, questioning and confused and scared. Scared of my consideration, of my gentleness. She hadn’t expected it from me, had accepted her fate. She had braced herself for me fucking her like an animal. She had expected agony and bruises, humiliation and cruel words. She had prepared herself for it, had promised herself to fight me.

  This was something she hadn’t prepared for, something she couldn’t fight because she was too desperate for it. She was proud and noble, but she was still only a sheltered woman. Showing her kindness was like giving her water in a time of drought.

  It was something new to me. I fucked hard. Women were pleasure and money. Bargain and burden. They weren’t allowed to be more than that.

  She moaned, her marble-like cheeks flushing. She was getting closer. I lowered my mouth to her lips, slid my tongue in, tasting that unblemished sweetness.

  My fingers slid up her side, over her slender ribs to the swell of her breast. She gasped again. I brushed her nipple with my thumb, the touch feather soft because that was how she liked it, as inexperienced as she was. She’d soon enough see that pain and pleasure worked well together. I reached between us and slid two fingers over her clit. She shuddered and I repeated the motion and thrust my hips faster, forcing one astonished gasp after another from her lips.

  I lifted her leg up over my back, changing the angle and sliding a bit deeper into her.

  She cried out and threw her head back, baring that elegant neck. Pain and pleasure. I couldn’t take my eyes off her face as she gasped and whimpered and moaned. Her gaze sought mine again. She hardly ever looked away. She was the first woman who dared to hold my gaze while I fucked her, the first woman I allowed to do so. My fingers slid over her clit as I sunk into her in deep controlled strokes over and over again.

  I wanted my prize, wanted to force it from her quivering body, wanted her complete surrender.

  Her tight walls clamped around my cock as she came under me. I closed my lips over the perfect skin at her throat and bit down, wanting to leave my mark. My angel. She tensed and shuddered even harder.

  I leaned down. “And you thought I wouldn’t own you, Angel,” I said softly then kissed her ear.

  She glared up at me, shame and hate mingling on her perfect features. Her cold, proud eyes blazed with emotions I had summoned.

  “Now that we got this out the way, why don’t I fuck you like I wanted to from the start?” I said in a low voice. Serafina was a chess piece.

  There was a flash of fear, but I didn’t give her time to consider my words. She was slick around my cock. I slid all the way out of her and thrust back into her in one hard push. She gasped from pain this time. I hummed my approval. I soon found a pace that was fast enough to be painful but not so overwhelming that she’d not feel the dark promise of pleasure behind it.

  She closed her eyes. “No,” I snarled, giving her a far less restrained thrust, showing her that I was still holding back. She looked at me with hate and disgust. I claimed her mouth, growing even harder under the intensity of her emotions. Hate was good.

  I sucked her nipple into my mouth, and she tensed. Oh yes. Fucking Serafina was better than my imagination had promised. “I can’t wait to send these sheets to Danilo and your family,” I rasped against her wet skin.

  She clawed at my back, and I groaned, my cock twitching.

  She fought against the pleasure, clung to the pain, even preferring it. I reached between us, found her nub, and flicked my finger over it. She squeezed harder around my cock, causing my eyes to close under the blinding pleasure. “If you stop fighting the pleasure, it’ll be less painful, Angel,” I murmured against her pink nipple before I sucked it back into my mouth. I hit deeper than before, still not as hard and deep as I wanted, but Serafina whimpered.

  I lifted my head. She bit her lip, holding back the sound. “Surrender to the pleasure. It’ll be worth it.”

  She hit me with a hateful gaze but didn’t pull back when I kissed her mouth and slipped my tongue inside. She’d rather suffer through the pain than stop fighting the pleasure. Proud and strong. Determined not to give me another one of her sweet releases. I claimed her mouth, hard and fast, like my cock did her tight center.

  I decided to allow her that small victory. I’d already won the prize and the war. I let loose, submitted to the pressure in my balls. I thrust into her one last time then shot my cum into her with a violent shudder.

  I stared into her eyes as I claimed her body. She was mine. I couldn’t wait for Cavallaro and her fiancé to find out.

  CHAPTER 16

  SERAFINA

  Remo pulled out of me, and I winced, sucking in a sharp breath. I rolled over to my side, away from him, but the shame stayed with me. Remo brushed my hair away and kissed my neck then lightly bit down, and I shivered. “You are mine now, Angel. I own you. Even if I ever let you go, I’ll still own you. You will always remember this day and deep down you will always know that you are mine and mine alone.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to hold back tears, fighting them, holding on to my composure with sheer force of will. The sheets rustled as Remo got out of bed, and I didn’t look over my shoulder to see what he was doing. I heard the water running in the bathroom.

  He returned moments later and ran his fingers down my spine then back up before he grabbed my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. My eyes found his. He parted my legs, his eyes taking in my thighs covered in my blood.

  Not taking his eyes off my face, he knelt between my legs. I tensed, confused but too stunned and overwhelmed to act. With a dark smile, he leaned forward and ran his tongue over my thigh, licking up the blood. I was frozen. He traced a finger up my leg and circled my opening with it. I stiffened. I was sore but Remo slid his finger inside of me very slowly. His dark eyes held mine and after a moment, he gently pulled his finger back out, now slick with my blood. A horrible suspicion wormed its way into my head, and he proved it right. Remo put his blood-coated finger in his mouth with a twisted smile. “The taste of blood never disgusted me, and your virgin blood is sweeter than anything else.”

  My nose wrinkled in disgust, and shame warmed my cheeks.

  Remo assessed me calmly as he released his finger from his mouth. He stroked my inner thighs as he lowered himself to his stomach between my legs.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Remo pressed a kiss to my center. “Claiming my missing prize.”

  My hand shot out, wanting to shove him away, but he caught my wrist and pressed it to my thigh.

  His mouth gently moved over me, followed by his tongue. He was so gentle, my body responded despite my soreness. He held my gaze as he traced his tongue along my slit over and over again. Then he closed his lips over my clit and began sucking softly.

  I moaned, unable to hold it in. Remo smiled against my flesh. I stopped fighting it and sank into the mattress, my legs
parting further. Remo kept up the soft touch of his tongue and mouth but pulled back slightly. “There you go. Let me make you forget the pain.”

  And he did. There was still an undercurrent of a dull ache, but somehow it heightened every spike of pleasure Remo’s tongue brought me.

  “Look at me,” Remo ordered, his lips brushing against my folds. I met his gaze and started trembling as my core tightened. Pain and pleasure mingled as Remo’s tongue worked my nub. My lips parted and I cried out, unable to contain it. Remo’s eyes flashed with triumph, and he pressed closer to my center, devouring me. I thrashed under him, gasping. It was painful and mind-bendingly pleasurable. I was torn apart and put back together, miss-matched and wrong but back together.

  I slumped against the bed, resigned, exhausted, my body throbbing with pain and the remnants of my orgasm. Remo stayed between my legs, but his tongue had slowed. His fingers pulled me apart, and he lapped at my opening. I moaned as it caused another aftershock. Everything about this was wrong and filthy. With a last kiss to my clit, Remo climbed over me and claimed my mouth. The taste of blood and my own juices made me shudder.

  Remo pulled back. “Pain and pleasure,” he rasped. “What do you prefer, Angel?”

  Shame crashed down on me hard and fast. “I hate you.”

  Remo smiled darkly and pushed off me. “There is a washcloth on the nightstand.” His erection and upper thighs were smeared with my blood, but he didn’t bother covering himself as he walked out of the room, leaving me alone.

  The door clicked shut.

  I sat up, wincing again. My eyes were drawn to the sheets, and I closed my eyes again. This was supposed to happen on my wedding night. It was supposed to be Danilo’s privilege, and I had given it away because that was exactly what it was: giving not taking. I got up and moved slowly toward the bathroom. The soreness wasn’t even the worst part. Not even close. That was the shame, the guilt over what I let happen.