Ricardo

by Marita A. Hansen

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I do. You wanted her, and I was a poor substitute. Now she’s gone and you still choose someone else over me. Was that maid good in bed? Did you enjoy her riding your cock?”

  His face twisted, anger now showing—and she was going to prod at it, and prod at it, until he lashed out.

  “Was I so fucking bad in bed that you had to find someone else the very next day?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t—”

  “Stai zitto!” she yelled, telling him to shut up.

  His body jolted, shock painting his features. She knew why. Because he thought no one would dare speak to a Don like that. But he wasn’t a Don to her; he was an arrogant stronzo who needed to hear some home truths.

  She prodded his chest again. “You don’t have a right to say anything to me after I caught that troia bouncing on your cock.”

  Anger flashed across his eyes, his violet stare almost red in the lighting. He took a step closer, his body practically touching hers. “Speak to me like that again and I’ll make you pay for every word you say,” he growled, the violence written across his face barely contained.

  She remained still, not willing to back down, even though fear was now shooting through every fiber in her body. “You take a woman to bed, you take the consequences.”

  He bent his head down to hers. “I didn’t fuck that woman willingly. And for you to accuse me of lying, after what you’ve been through, is two-faced.”

  Anger shot through her, pushing all fear away. “What you went through is nothing compared to what I went through. You were lying on that bed moaning!”

  “I was drugged out of my mind.”

  “You looked perfectly lucid when you ran after me, falling over your tongue with lies.”

  “I don’t lie,” he ground out.

  “That’s a lie in itself.”

  “No, it’s not. I speak the truth, even if it’s to my own detriment.”

  “Then tell me how it felt to fuck that maid. Did you moan and tell her how good she was? Or what about Ghita—”

  “Don’t you dare speak about her!”

  She angled her face up to his. “I’ll do as I please, as you do. So ... did you whisper words of love to Ghita as you fucked her?”

  He lifted his hand, making Bianca flinch, but she stood strong.

  He flexed his hand. “Why are you taunting me? I’m not medicated.”

  “Whether you’re medicated or not you still lose control. I saw what you did to Vinnie. Only a monster would do that to his own brother.”

  Hurt flashed across his eyes, making her wonder whether she’d gone too far. He turned and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She followed him, opening the door.

  He spun around, anger coloring every line of his regal face. “Get out!” he yelled.

  “No!” She slammed the door shut behind her, closing them in together. “Not until you give me what I want.”

  “And what’s that?” He sneered at her. “A fuck? Or to tell you I love you? Well, you’re not getting either, so get the fuck away from me and don’t come back!”

  She rushed him, shoving him against the washbasin, his words angering her beyond reason. He yelped, his hand going to his shoulder. She stopped, realizing she’d hit one of his bullet wounds. In that moment of distraction, Ricardo rushed her. She raised her hands to defend herself, the memory of her husband hitting her in the face making her cry out. Ricardo lifted her off the floor and rammed her against the bathroom door, his mouth smashing into hers, what he was doing not registering. She’d expected him to hit her, not to devour her mouth, stealing away all reason and thought.

  He hoisted her up higher, gripping onto her ass so tight she knew she was going to bruise. He kicked the door behind them open and carried her to the bed. He fell on top of her, his mouth not leaving hers for even a second. He ripped at her clothing, sending her blouse buttons flying everywhere, his desperation exciting her. Then his hands were on her panties, ripping at them too, the material tearing away.

  She gasped as he pushed two fingers inside of her, the sound getting swallowed up by his hungry kisses. Breaking the kiss, he moved his lips over her jaw and down her neck, brushing them across her collarbone. A second later, his mouth attacked one of her breasts, sucking and pulling on her nipple through her bra, the feel of the lace and his mouth together pure ecstasy. Beyond reason, she arched up, trying to push her breast further into his mouth.

  “I need to be inside of you,” he growled, pulling away from her breast.

  She looked up at him, the raw need on his face beautiful. He undid his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling out his hard cock. He grabbed her hips and yanked her ass off the bed.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, prodding her pussy with his cock.

  She did, gasping as he pushed his cock partway in. He started talking, the words spouting from his mouth filled with pleasure. He gripped onto her ass and pushed in some more, his groan a deep rumble in his throat. And those eyes of his ... they were practically glowing with passion. She’d known a few men with stunning eyes, but Ricardo’s were the best. Her last lover’s golden eyes were always filled with sorrow when he took her, whereas Ricardo’s were filled with every emotion under the sun, a maelstrom of anger, lust, ecstasy, and everything in between.

  He finally pushed all the way in, filling her, stretching her. Then he started thrusting in and out of her pussy, giving her so much pleasure she couldn’t think straight. He continued talking, murmuring that he only wanted her and that she was perfect in every way, and it was him who didn’t deserve her. At the back of her mind, she knew it was too good to be true, that she was risking everything. He could do the exact same thing as the day before, but she didn’t want to stop, preferring to live in the moment and to pay the consequences once it was over. Because right now, he was worth the hell she knew was coming.

  He let go of her ass and ripped open his shirt. He shrugged it off, the bandages over his gunshot wounds now stained with blood. It shocked her back to reality. Concerned, she pushed up. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not. They must hurt.”

  He smiled at her. “Anything’s better than feeling nothing, but pleasure is the best, and right now I don’t give a merda if I bleed to death, just as long as I’m making love to you.” He leaned down and picked her up, carrying her to the wall like he’d done the other day, but without the stumbling. He pushed his cock back inside of her and started kissing her neck. “No one compares to you, Bianca,” he murmured against her neck. “No one.”

  She grabbed his hair, tethering him to her. His words ... his mouth ... everything about him was overwhelming. She wrapped her legs tighter around him as he rocked into her. “You’re a bastardo,” she breathed out, making him stop kissing her neck.

  He moved his face in front of hers, his expression confused. He’d been complimenting her, muttering things that sent thrills through her, but that was the problem. She began crying, everything now too much. She didn’t want him to stop, but couldn’t hold it in, especially since she knew once he was finished, he was going to crush her completely, the man a silver-tongued liar.

  “You’re a bastardo,” she repeated.

  “I know,” he breathed out. He kissed her cheeks, stealing her tears, but more replaced them. He rested his forehead against hers. “Please don’t cry.”

  She closed her eyes. She’d come in here to provoke his temper, to make him hit her, so she could leave without looking back, but every time he touched her it sent her to a place she knew she couldn’t climb out of. The man might as well have thrown her into a cell, locking her away from everyone else, because he’d stolen her heart—yet again. This wasn’t instant love; it was something that had been brewing for over twelve years. She’d tried to find other men to fill the gaping hole he’d left open. And she had found one, a man she’d been willing to die for. But she want
ed to live for Ricardo—and to never let him go, even though she knew he was slipping away again.

  “You destroy me every time you touch me,” she said. “Why do you do it when you know how much I want you?”

  “You want me?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

  “But, you said you hated me.”

  “I never said that, but I do hate the control you take from me.”

  His violet stare roamed her face as though looking for answers. “You take control from me, too.” He lowered her to the floor, sliding his cock out of her. “But you deserve better than me.”

  “I don’t deserve any better. I’m a murderer.”

  “What you did doesn’t compare to what I’ve done.”

  “I’m still a murderer. I could’ve stopped that man from drinking my husband’s poisoned wine, but I chose not to. I also knew you were going to kill that man who attacked me, yet I didn’t stop you because I wanted him dead. And, Ricardo, if that maid touches you again, I will kill her too—regardless of whether you want me or not.”

  A small smile pulled at his lips. “You would?”

  She nodded.

  His smile widened. “Maybe I misjudged you after all.”

  She frowned. “Does the thought of me killing for you turn you on?”

  “You bet it does, and if that bothers you, too fucking bad, because you just made a mistake.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You’re mine now.” He grabbed her and threw her onto the bed. “All mine.”

  ***

  Ricardo shoved down his pants, keeping his eyes on Bianca. She still had on her bra and skirt, minus her panties, her half-undressed state sexy as hell. He bent down and pulled her skirt off, then buried his face into her pussy. She groaned as he licked her, flicking her clit with his tongue. Her fingers dug into his hair, tethering him to her.

  He ran his tongue up her pussy again. More moans left her lips, his cock twitching in response, pre-cum leaking from it. “You taste so good, amore,” he said, calling her his love. And she was, their time apart not changing that.

  He continued to lavish her pussy with attention, reveling in the taste, the feel, and the sounds coming from her. He didn’t know how long he did it for, but eventually she pushed his face into her hard, her legs trembling in response. A second later, she cried out, his woman coming. He looked up at her, the ecstasy and strain on her face turning him on even more.

  Once she’d finished, he reentered her. She gasped, her body going stiff, looking as though she was going to come again. He lay down on her and rolled her on top of him, wanting her body to be pressed down on his, the sensation so good.

  She bent her head and latched onto his lips, the closeness something he didn’t ever want to lose. The loneliness he’d felt over the years had been hard. Not being able to feel a lover’s touch, had made it almost impossible to get attached to anyone. But being with Bianca gave him hope that things could change, that he could find something like Salvatore had with Rosa.

  He ran his fingertips over her face, the pads telling him he was touching smooth skin. He brushed her hair back, the feathery feeling so wonderful to experience. People didn’t realize how amazing it was to actually feel touch. They took it for granted, probably dismissing many of the sensations, but he felt everything, times a hundred.

  Bianca kissed the hollow of his neck, making him inhale sharply, the moist softness of her lips sending sparks of pleasure to his brain, overriding all the pain racking his body from his injuries.

  “Ride me,” he groaned.

  She froze for a second, making him think she was unhappy, then she pulled away. He grabbed for her, worried she was stopping, but she just turned around. She pushed him back inside of her, and started riding him, her beautiful ass now in his line of vision.

  He watched her ass moving up and down on him, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy. Her culo was peachy, womanly, not tight and small like the maid’s. Perfect, especially the way it tapered up to a small waist, making it more pronounced, something he could grab onto.

  She picked up speed, the slapping of their bodies mingling with their heavy breathing. Noise came from outside his room, people walking past. He ignored it, just wanting to hear the sounds Bianca was making.

  Her long blonde hair was swaying back and forth. He pushed up into a sitting position and took a hold of it with one hand, yanking her head back onto his good shoulder. Her blue eyes stared up at him as she rolled her hips, setting his cock off. He tightened his grip on her hair and roared as he exploded inside of her, the pleasure beyond intense. She cried out, coming with him, her pussy clenching his cock, drawing out every last drop of cum. He released her hair and wrapped his arms around her, not willing to let go.

  Ever.

  17

  Ivy stopped outside Ricardo’s room, the sound of sex coming from within infuriating her. She knew who was in there with him, taking what she wanted: the blonde bitch Bianca D’Angelo. That weak woman didn’t deserve a man like that. Ricardo needed a strong woman, someone who could fight as well as fuck.

  Raised voices came from a few rooms away. Ivy slipped down the passage and placed an ear to the door, keeping an eye out so no one caught her eavesdropping. Two girls were arguing over a game, one of them quite loud. She straightened and knocked on the door, wondering whether she could turn the girls into Vipers. She could also use them to help her run Bianca out of the house.

  The girls went silent.

  She knocked again, calling out, “It’s the maid, can I please come in?”

  The sound of footsteps approached the door, then it pulled open. A skinny girl of about seventeen stood before her, dressed in soccer clothes. She had brown hair and pale blue eyes, the only thing about the girl that wasn’t ordinary. Ivy’s gaze moved to the girl’s sister, who was sitting in front of a TV, holding a game controller. She had dark-blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes and the features of a goddess—perfect Black Viper material. Plus, she looked older, eighteen or nineteen at a guess.

  “I’m here to clean your room,” Ivy said, knowing who the girls were. Pedro had contacted her only a few minutes ago, asking her to bring Valentino’s daughters to him, which she had no intention of doing.

  She walked past the sisters, getting started with cleaning their room. The girls went back to playing their PlayStation game. Once she’d finished, she walked up to the gorgeous one.

  “What?” the girl said, turning to her.

  “Do you like karate?” Ivy asked, thinking she was a rude little bitch—which she liked.

  The girl pulled a face. “No.”

  The other girl piped up. “I do!” She whipped her hand out, hitting her sister in the side of the head. Her sister yelled out, and went for her. Ivy grinned as the two fought and screamed at each other. The girls were clumsy in their scrapping, but with enough work, she could mold them into good fighters. Then again, the Vipers could always do with more snipers and spotters.

  “Stop!” she shouted.

  The girls froze.

  Ivy pointed at the skinny girl. “Do you want me to teach you karate?”

  The girl shoved her sister off her and jumped up, looking excited. “Sì!”

  Her sister got up. “I do too.”

  Ivy focused on her. “But you just said you don’t like karate.”

  “I’ll like it if you teach me how to beat her up.”

  The skinny girl spun around. “You’re a troia!”

  “And you like girls.”

  “I do not!” The skinny girl launched herself at her sister, the two scrapping again.

  Ivy put two fingers into her mouth and whistled loudly. The sisters pulled apart to cover their ears. “Now I have your attention, listen up. I promise I’ll teach you karate if you both promise to stop fighting.”

  The girls nodded at her.

  “Good. Now, my name’s Isis.”

  The sisters replied with their names. The beautiful one
was Mira, while the soccer girl was Siena.

  “You have lovely names,” Ivy said, getting smiles in return, “and I’m sure you will be good students.”

  They both nodded.

  “Excellent. So, let’s talk about payment.”

  “We don’t have any money,” Siena said.

  “Then, how about you pay me with your friendship. Is that okay?”

  “Sì!”

  “Good. Now, tomorrow I’ll be here at ten for your first lesson, so be ready for me.”

  The girls shouted their agreement, both of them looking excited.

  Smiling, Ivy waved at them, getting waves in return. She headed out of the room, pleased she’d hooked them. Now all she needed to do was to get them to like and admire her, then whisper hateful things about Bianca, so they caused the bitch trouble. Teenagers. So easy to manipulate.

  Shouting came from downstairs. Ivy moved to the banister and looked over it. Brando was walking up the staircase, yelling at the twins not to follow him. Ivy went still. She hadn’t gotten a full look at Brando the other day, since he’d been facing away from her, but she saw all of him now, and what she saw made her mouth run dry.

  He.

  Was.

  Beautiful.

  Without a doubt, he was a D’Angelo through and through. She’d seen Frano and Jagger D’Angelo when they’d visited the Black Russian, Jagger in particular. She’d found him incredible to look at, nothing but beauty. And Brando was no different, just without the sorrow of his half-brother. Instead, he radiated hate, the man a devil with an angelic mask. But she didn’t care whether he was the Devil himself, because she would sell her soul to get a taste of him.

  He stopped at the top of the staircase, his angry gaze moving to her. He was the shortest of the brothers, probably about six-foot at the most, but she could still see muscles outlining his shirt and the bulge in his pants—the man in no way lacking. His angry expression dropped, leaving his beautiful face emotionless. He had stunning golden eyes and cheekbones she would kill for, while his cruel lips... He was simply too beautiful to be real. She stared back in awe, a thrill racing through her.