Enzo was much stupider than I anticipated.
Despite what he told Marco, Enzo refused to sign over his business to me. It made no sense. He was weak, had suffered broken bones and internal bleeding. The air wheezed out of his lungs like a whistle. How he was still holding out through all he’d endured was a fucking miracle.
But I was tired of this. I had a woman to win over, and spending my nights in the dungeon with Enzo was not aiding me in that endeavor. I planned to get his cooperation tonight, no matter what.
He needed to die.
Marco had Enzo strung up in the cell, chains holding him to the ceiling. His toes barely reached the stone floor and his shoulder had dislocated hours ago. I pressed on the shoulder joint and Enzo shuddered, a whimper escaping his lips. “Are you going to sign?” I asked, pressing again. “Though I suppose you’ll have to use your other hand to write.”
He panted, his head hanging forward on his neck. No answer.
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Enzo? The pain will go away the instant you sign. That will be nice, for the pain to go away, no?”
There was no answer.
I sighed. “Should we squeeze your balls until they pop? It’s excruciatingly painful I’m told and you won’t live long after. Is that what you want?” I dug my fingers into his shoulder and he howled. “Sign the fucking papers, Enzo.”
“Rav,” Marco said, hanging up his phone. “You’re needed upstairs.”
I tensed. “What is it?”
“Francesca came to the guard room and asked for you. Said she needs to see you.”
I didn’t hesitate. She would not interrupt unless it was important. To Marco, I said, “Leave him hanging all night. Maybe that will make him more cooperative in the morning.”
Marco nodded, and I headed up the stairs and out into the night. Why would Francesca need me? Was it something to do with the baby? My heart pounded as I entered the dark kitchen, fear propelling me forward. I assumed she was upstairs. Would I need to call David to come examine her? He didn’t know anything about babies. If necessary, we would find her obstetrician, no matter the hour. Francesca and the baby were more important than anything else.
By the time I reached my bedroom, I was in a near panic.
Then I saw her.
Wearing her robe, she sat on our bed, her blond hair loose in waves around her face. I closed the door. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “You have blood on your shirt.”
I glanced down. My white dress shirt had a thick swipe of Enzo’s blood across it, probably from where I leaned against him. I grimaced. “Perdonami,” I said and began removing my cufflinks. I’d change into another shirt, so as to not offend her.
“No, leave it.”
The breathless tone of her voice stilled my fingers. Her chest rose and fell swiftly, and the points of her nipples were evident against the thin silk covering her. Ah, I understood. The air in the room changed, and my skin crackled like I was in the midst of a thunderstorm. “You like seeing the evidence of my work?”
“I shouldn’t,” she whispered.
That didn’t answer my question, but I let it go. “Why am I here, Francesca?”
Slowly, she lifted her left hand and I saw it. My mother’s ring. Madonna, that sight.
Mine.
Satisfaction and possession twisted through me, a darkness that had me yearning to pin her down on the floor and fuck her until she screamed. My cock began filling, lengthening in pulses that matched my heartbeat.
I didn’t bother to hide my thoughts as I slowly raked her from head to toe. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yes.”
“Then say it.”
She drew in a breath and let it out. “I belong to you.”
The words sank into my muscles, tightening them in preparation of having her at my mercy. Her pussy was mine for the rest of our lives. “That’s right. You do. And you will do whatever I say while we are in this bedroom, no?”
A slight hesitation and then she nodded.
That hesitation bothered me. Was she still angry? Or unsure about marrying me? I wanted to prove that she was ready to fully give herself to me. That she was ready to begin our games. “Stand up. Take off your robe.”
With a graceful twist of her legs, she put her toes on the ground and pushed off the bed. Her fingers loosened the belt and the silk fell from her shoulders to pool at her feet. I had seen her naked in my office a few nights ago, but I was still dazed by her beauty. Madre di Dio, I would never tire of this woman. Creamy skin and ripe tits, long legs and a tight, hot cunt . . . There was no one who could ever compare.
I ran my tongue behind my teeth, the beast inside me howling to be let out. Instead, I tried to keep my tone cool and even. “You are gorgeous, amore. A vision. I’ve missed you so fucking much.” She smiled, victorious, and took a step toward me. I held up my hand. “But I think you need a reminder of who owns you. Come here.” I pointed to my feet.
When she tried to take another step, I said, “No, Francesca. Crawl to me.”
Her smile faded, but her eyes remained dark with lust. Her hands fisted at her sides and I could see her rolling this command over in her mind. Five weeks ago she wouldn’t have hesitated and I needed that acceptance again. Otherwise I would wait until I had it, until she was ready to submit to me. Nothing less would do.
Several seconds went by. Just when I thought she would refuse, just when I thought I would need to give her more time, she did what I’d been dreaming of for five long goddamned weeks.
She gave me everything.
Carefully, she dropped to her hands and knees, then began crawling toward me.
Her hair swung forward to frame her face but her eyes remained on me the entire time. Anticipation buzzed under my skin, my balls growing heavy, while I dug deep for patience and waited. The ring glinted on her finger as she moved, and I loved seeing the sign of my ownership on her. I would rip apart any man who dared to touch her, destroy anyone who caused her a moment’s pain.
When she reached my feet, she sat back and looked up at me. Waited.
A smile curved my lips as I stroked the top of her head. “Ti amo, dolcezza. What a good girl you are.” I reached for my belt, flicked it open, then unfastened my trousers. She didn’t move, but her lips parted with the force of her breaths, and my freed erection bounced between us, the head aimed directly at her mouth. “You know what I want, no?”
She licked her lips and nodded, her attention never leaving my cock.
“Then begin,” I told her, not moving to help.
Clasping her hands behind her back, she shuffled forward on her knees, edging closer, a little huff of frustration escaping her lips as she adjusted. Then the tip of her tongue emerged and dug into my slit, lapping at the drop of moisture there, and I hissed. Cristo, my greedy girl.
She licked the swollen head, her tongue flicking the underside, and a streak of pleasure raced down my legs. I locked my knees together to keep still as she pressed kisses down along the shaft reverently, like she had missed it. I hoped that was true because my cock definitely had missed her mouth—and her throat. It was time to reacquaint myself with both.
“Open,” I growled. “Take me deep.”
She twisted to get in better position, chasing my dick with her mouth. I liked to see her struggle to suck me without the use of her hands. With her hands behind her back, she angled her body, which thrust her tits out, their weight bobbing as she shifted. I didn’t help her, either. I got off on degrading her, and Francesca got off on being degraded. It was why we worked so well together. I bet her pussy was dripping right now.
She finally got the head in her mouth and the tight heat made me grunt with satisfaction. “More,” I barked.
Her jaw widened and she pressed forward, letting me slide along her tongue. When I hit the top of her throat, she paused. My fingers itched to take the back of her head and shove my way inside, but I let her do this. She knew what I wanted, and I needed to see how far she would go to give it to me.
She widened her thighs, changing the angle, and relaxed her throat muscles enough for me to slip in. “That’s it,” I crooned. “I will let you breathe in a moment. Eyes on me, baby.”
Her wide, almost panicked gaze met mine and I saw the fear and determination. It made my dick pulse, and I gave a short thrust of my hips to tunnel deeper. We worked together for a few seconds until I was fully inside, exactly where I wanted to stay. “Relax,” I instructed. “Don’t pull off.”
Tears gathered and spilled over her lashes, the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. My cock filled her mouth and throat, her lips pressed to the patch of hair at the base. “Swallow, Francesca.” Her throat muscles worked, squeezing me, and I gasped. “Va bene,” I said, pulling back so she could take in air. After a few seconds, I lifted a brow in question, asking silently if she was ready, and she nodded once.
This time I didn’t wait, unable to keep from grasping her head and ramming my cock in her throat. When I was as deep as I could go, I held there, loving the way she looked on her knees, suffering to make me happy. I could feel the orgasm building, my balls growing tight and heavy, the need to empty my seed in her mouth. She must have seen it on my face because she swallowed twice, then again, trying to force my come from my body, and the idea of it was so hot that I began roughly fucking her mouth. Every third or fourth stroke went in her throat, and I was like a man possessed. It was so much better than I remembered, her sweet tongue rubbing the underside while her lips pulled to give me suction. Like she couldn’t wait to drink me down.
That wasn’t what I wanted right now, though.
“I am going to shoot all over your face,” I panted. “All over your tits.”
She moaned in her throat as if she liked the idea, and the sound vibrated along my shaft. The thin threads of my self-control snapped and my balls sizzled with the impending orgasm. Pulling out of her mouth, I fisted my cock as thick jets erupted in pulses, and I coated her mouth and chin, then the creamy mounds of her breasts. She sat patiently, taking it, letting me paint her with my release, and I snarled in satisfaction, wishing I could drown her in my come.
When I finished it dripped off her chin and onto the floor, running down the mounds of her tits. “Cazzo,” I said, slumping against the door. “I wish I could keep you like this. Just like this, my wicked girl. At my feet, covered in my come.”
Grinning, she licked her lips, tasting the thick mess. “Yum.”
With a snarl, I lifted her to her feet and slammed my mouth against hers. I couldn’t wait to clean her up first. Instead, I smeared the fluid into her tits as I kissed her, the salty flavor on her lips only reminding me of how fucking hot she’d looked on the floor a moment ago. Mine. My lover, my toy. My entire life.
Holding her jaw in both hands, I broke off and pressed my forehead to hers. “You alone have the power to destroy me. I am nothing without you, absolutely nothing. And I will never, ever let you go.”
Her hands wrapped around my wrists. “Good, because you’ve ruined me, il Diavolo. Absolutely ruined me, so there’s no getting rid of me now. Which means you and I are going to rule the motherfucking world together.”
Francesca
Fausto stepped back, and his eyes flashed with satisfaction as they raked my naked body, now coated in his come. He pushed his trousers off his hips, then toed out of his shoes. “Do you want to clean up before I fuck you, dirty girl?”
“No, paparino.”
I didn’t. I liked the sticky, sweaty mess of the two of us together, and I knew he got off on it, too.
“Dio, you are gorgeous,” he rasped as he pinched one of my nipples. “I want to mark you and bite you, make sure everyone knows you are mine.”
I held up the large ring on my finger. “More yours than this?”
His lip curled in a look so fierce, so dominating that my knees trembled. “I will always want to spank you, monella. Can you handle me rough tonight?” He began unbuttoning his shirt.
My thighs clenched as more heat flooded my veins. He’d spanked me before and I loved it. The slaps made my skin feel alive, incredibly sensitive. I was definitely down for it, especially if he fucked me afterward. “I love it when you’re rough.”
He slapped my butt once. “Get on the bed. Bend over, with your ass in the air.”
I scrambled to obey.
I heard him chuckle behind me. “So eager. I love that most about you.”
When I was in position at the edge of the bed, he came up behind me, now wearing only black boxer briefs. He growled and squeezed one of my butt cheeks. “I’m going to spank you, hard. Then I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Would you like that?”
I squirmed, barely able to contain my excitement as adrenaline spiked in my system. “Yes.”
“Good. Allora, I will give you the choice. Would you like my hand or my belt across your ass?”
Oh, Jesus. I closed my eyes, a shiver running through me. Either? Both? “Should you be using a belt on a pregnant woman?”
“I asked your doctor that day at your appointment. She said it was fine as long as I didn’t strike your belly.”
I remembered him speaking Italian to Dr. Russo that day. He’d been asking about spankings? My God, how mortifying.
Still, the idea intrigued me. The belt had come up that first time we’d fucked, and I remembered the way he’d caressed the leather in his long fingers. Could I take it? “Belt.”
“Perfetto. Put your feet flat on the floor.”
I shifted into position and he walked to his discarded trousers and picked them up. With a flourish, he pulled the leather from the belt loops, and the swooshing sound caused an echoing throb between my legs. Why was that so hot?
He returned, standing slightly to the side. “I think dieci. You will count.” Smoothing a hand along the small of my back, he asked, “Ready?”
I nodded—and pain exploded across my bare ass. “Holy shit!” I tried to move away, kicking my legs. The skin stung, like I’d been attacked by bees back there.
The pain eased and the area turned warm, tingly. Hyper sensitive. I sucked in a breath.
“Count, or you will receive more than ten.”
I wasn’t certain I could endure even ten. “One,” I said, quickly.
“In Italiano,” he snapped, fire cracking across my skin with another strike. “Now, Francesca.”
“Due,” I gritted out, my fingers digging into the soft duvet.
Three, four, and five happened in rapid succession, every slap in a different place along my ass and upper thighs. I shouted each number, my brain struggling to keep up. My lungs labored to drag in enough air, and I wasn’t certain about this. At all.
Then he paused and brushed gentle fingertips over the skin . . . and I sighed. The pain sparkled bright, my ass all sensation, and the light touch echoed in my clit. Fuck, that was nice. Painful, but nice.
“Va bene,” he crooned, arousal evident in his voice. “You are halfway, amore. So close to your reward.”
“Please,” I said on a long whine. I needed him to fuck me, right now. “Ti prego.”
“Oh, how I love to hear you beg. My dick is already hard for you again.”
My pussy contracted around the emptiness, and I could feel the wetness drip onto my inner thighs. “Ti prego,” I repeated. A blunt finger shoved inside me, stretching me, and my back bowed. God, yes. “More.”
He pumped lazily a few times, not nearly enough to give me what I needed. I tried to push back, urging him on, but he pulled away. “Soon. Very soon.”
The next crack of the belt across my skin stole my breath. It hurt worse than the first five combined. “Fuck! Shit! Sei!”
“That dirty mouth. Again, Francesca.”
Another strike, this time across the tops of my thighs. I panted, sweat breaking out all over my body. I couldn’t do this. “Sette,” I whimpered.
“Three more,” he said. “I will make them fast.”
“Wait, please—”
The belt rained down three times in quick succession and I howled. Then the leather hit the floor and Fausto’s mouth was between my legs, eating at me like a man possessed. He tongued my slit, shoved the tip into my entrance, then flicked my clit. His hands held onto my ass, separating my cheeks, and that slight bit of pressure on my sore skin felt delicious, the flesh throbbing and alive. Like he’d brought it to life.
It went on and on, his mouth torturing me in the very best way. He licked everywhere, even the ring of muscle between my cheeks. When my legs began shaking he circled my clit with the flat of his tongue, and the orgasm slammed into me, fiercer than I expected, and I shouted as my body convulsed. Holy fuck. It went on and on, his tongue dragging out the sensations until I sagged onto the bed. My brain floated, every muscle gone liquid.
He stood and then I felt the tip of him, hard and blunt, at my entrance. His cock shoved inside, the wetness easing his way, though it was still a stretch. It took him a few thrusts to get all the way inside, and I sighed at the fullness, the sweet invasion of his body into mine. “Oh, God,” I gasped. “You feel so good.”
Draping over me, he kissed my spine and began speaking a string of Italian my blissed-out brain couldn’t comprehend. But I did understand, “Mi fai impazzire,” something he’d told me before.
“You make me crazy, too,” I said dreamily, reaching behind to grab his ass.
Straightening, he took my arms and folded them behind my back. His grip was punishing as he held onto me, but I didn’t notice. I felt light and airy, my body pliant and filled with sensation. He began fucking me then, punches of his hips that rattled my teeth as he jerked me onto his cock again and again. Then his thumb slid between my ass cheeks and began toying with my hole. I couldn’t even complain because everything he was doing felt so fucking good.
“I think I must reacquaint myself with all your holes,” he said as the digit dove inside. “Would you like that? Your paparino’s cock in your ass again?”
My tongue was thick and awkward, desire making me stupid. I could only nod, craving everything filthy he would give me. There was no reason to pretend I didn’t want it when we both knew I did.
This man was going to be my husband. Holy shit.
He hissed through his teeth when my body clamped down on him. “Cazzo. Yes, squeeze my dick again.”
I did it once more and he groaned. “You are trying to make me come, no? Because it is working.”
When I did it a third time he smacked my butt cheek and pulled out. Limp, I couldn’t do more than roll my head to watch him reach into the drawer beside the bed and retrieve a bottle of lube. He popped the cap and poured a generous amount in his hand before jacking himself, coating his cock and making it slippery. I watched the muscles of his forearm shift as he worked, and whoa, that was hot. I made a mental note to request a video of him masturbating soon.
Moving behind me, he drizzled liquid down my crack and massaged it into my hole. “I want you to ride me. I want to see your face when I claim your ass again.”
Fausto got into position on the bed, flat on his back, then lifted me over him until I straddled his hips. Bringing me toward his face, he kissed me hard, his tongue invading my mouth and letting me taste his desperation. The tips of his fingers probed the tight ring of muscle, smoothing, massaging, opening me. Eager, I rolled my hips, dragging my mound over his shaft.
“So needy,” he murmured against my mouth when I whimpered. “Don’t worry, little girl. I am going to fill you up.”
His fingers slipped inside, but there was only pressure. It was as if the pain receptors in my body were on vacation at the moment, and the pleasure center of my brain was firmly in charge. He pumped his hand slowly, widening me, while his mouth remained demanding. I took it gladly, letting him use me. I would always be his puttanella, even with a ring on my finger.
He broke off and grabbed my hips. “Up, piccolina. Take me inside.”
I braced one hand on his stomach, then reached with the other to take his thick cock, lining him up at my back entrance. His warm skin was slick and hard, and I began pushing down, hissing when the head slipped in. He threw his head back, his expression nearly feral in its intensity, and I loved watching this powerful man come undone by my body. By our connection. I dropped down a little more, gave myself time to adjust, then continued, working steadily, with Fausto’s big chest heaving the entire time. His fingertips sank into my skin, pressing on my hip bones and I knew I would have bruises there tomorrow.
The thought sent a punch of arousal through my middle and I lowered my hips all the way down, meeting his pelvis. God, it felt so good, my sore ass rubbing against his rough skin. The width of him split me open and I panted, loving the way he overwhelmed me. Loving him, period. “Baby,” I whispered, hoping he understood.
He knew. Of course he did. No one could read me better than Fausto.
He cupped my breasts with both hands, pinching my nipples. “Tell me, gorgeous girl. Ride me and tell me. Don’t hold anything back from me.”
I began moving then, churning my hips slowly, dragging his shaft in and out of my ass, all the while watching his face. His eyes burned hot as they raked over my body, possession stamped on his features, and I let the words fall out. “Ti amo, bello.”
His reaction was instant. Snatching me in his big hands, he leaned up and brought me to him for a blistering kiss. Then he braced his feet on the mattress and began pounding into me, his body thrusting upward in short jabs that bounced my tits up and down. His hands kept my hips steady, our bodies straining and working together. Whatever spot he was hitting deep inside me sent sparks down my legs, along my spine, sending me higher and higher.
When I started trembling, he said, “Your clit, dolcezza. Play with it and make yourself come. Right now.”
I didn’t question him. My hand flew between my legs and I rubbed my swollen flesh, desperate for release. The rush was instant, a wave of color and light that exploded behind my eyes. My muscles contracted around him, clamping down, and I heard Fausto grunt as his movements became uncoordinated. Then he held me still, his back arching, as his cock pulsed in my ass, hot jets filling me. God, he was sexy as fuck.
And he was mine.
“Madre di Dio,” he panted. “I hadn’t expected you to say that.” He pulled me down to lay on top of him and wrapped his arms around me, his cock still buried in my backside. He kissed the top of my head. “I do not deserve you, amore.”
I stared at the glittering ring on my left hand, the heavy jewelry that belonged to his mother. The words were true, I did love him. I’d been falling for him since the day he told me I could keep Lamborghini. Possibly even before. I liked the darkness inside him, the barely leashed violence. He was the most powerful man in Europe, richer than a king, and he fucked me like he couldn’t ever get enough.
I tilted my head to meet his eyes. “I love you, but if you break my heart again, I will carve yours out of your chest and feed it to your pigs.”
The look on his face told me he liked my words. “There is my bloodthirsty queen.” He gently lifted me off his softening erection and rolled me onto my back. His hand cradled my face. “You are everything to me. I tried to survive without you but could not do it. No matter what happens, I will always love you. I want you right here with me until I take my last breath.”
My heart thumped hard as my chest expanded with emotion. “I never thought when you drugged me and dragged me all the way to Italy that I would marry you.”
“I can be very persuasive when there is something I want.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “Speaking of, I want to get married as quickly as possible.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him off me. Give this man an inch . . . “Slow your roll, Ravazzani.” I got to my feet and started toward the shower. “I know we’re having a shotgun wedding and all, but give me a minute to breathe.”
He came up behind me and smacked my ass. “That is for your sassy mouth, monella. Get in the shower and I will see if I can convince you.”
