Page 59 of Malevolent King

“Fuck me, Sofia, I’m coming,” he growled.

His hips pushed into me, once, twice, and then stilled. His cock leapt inside me, and warmth filled me as he finished, pushed deep. His cum was hot, warming me from the inside. It felt decadent and dirty as hell, and somehow good, despite that.

His cock surged within me for an entire minute after he’d started to come, his body tight, his teeth clenched. His eyes never closed, though. He watched me throughout. There was so much bridled strength and power in his body at that moment, I didn’t think I could have done this with him untied. He was too overwhelming.

“Kiss me,” he urged as I slumped forward, my muscles finally relaxing.

I brought my lips to his and lightly placed a kiss there. It was stupidly chaste after what we’d just done, but it felt intimate in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

He deepened it, rocking me with his half-hard cock, still buried deep, as his cum slid down my legs and wet my inner thighs. I wondered if there’d be blood, too.

Cold reality spread through me as the haze of urgency dissipated. I pulled back before I wanted to. I could stay there all night, enjoying the feeling of being wanted by someone I wanted back, but it was too dangerous. Dangerous for me, sure. Disappointing my father again was terrifying, but the real danger was for Nikolai. If someone found us together, he’d never leave here. My father would kill him.

I rose on shaky legs, ignoring the sensation of his seed running down my leg and the ache in my pussy. I tucked his wet cock back into his jeans and fastened them again. Before I leaned away, Nikolai wordlessly pressed a kiss to the top of my head. I had taken his roughness, his mocking, and his wicked intentions. His tenderness was something else entirely.

I nearly ran back to my room.

17

SOFIA

After taking a long, hot shower the next morning, I headed downstairs to the kitchen. I might have let my inner rebel out last night, but I still didn’t have the balls to walk around sticky and smelling like Nikolai’s cum.

Just the thought was enough to turn my cheeks permanently red this morning. All the tumbling emotions growing in my chest had finally reached a fever pitch, like a kettle on the stove, boiling too fast and needing to blow.

Last night I’d blown, all right. I couldn’t find anything in me that regretted it today. Nope, I was fresh out of guilt and shame, it seemed, which was a new feeling for me.

Carmella was up to her elbows in flour, and the sight was comforting. After my mother had died, she’d been the only maternal figure in my life.

“Ah, there you are. Come and help me. I don’t know where everyone is this morning, but Angelo here is a closed book, like always.”

My bodyguard sat at the kitchen table, reading the sports pages and catching up on the latest Italian soccer news. He creased it and frowned at her but continued eating. No one came between Angelo and his breakfast. Well, maybe Chiara, but that was not a line of thought I wanted to pursue.

“My father went to Atlantic City today, so probably most of his entourage went with him,” I muttered, pouring myself a cup of coffee as soothingly dark and bitter as my soul this morning.

The way the family worked was that De Sanctis men were busy on any given day. There were the ones who were assigned to the compound, such as Gino, and the ones assigned to people, like Angelo. The rest had duties in different places. My father had a few warehouses in Jersey at the shore where he conducted all sorts of unsavory business dealings. Then there was the protection—read intimidation racket—that needed men to do the rounds on a weekly basis. Add in hunting down late payers and moving products, and the De Sanctis men were busy little worker bees.

Not me, though. As my father had so plainly pointed out last night, I had one purpose, and the day was coming that I’d have to fulfill it.

“Well, let’s enjoy the quiet while we can,” Carmella said, and crossed herself superstitiously. “Excitement never spells anything good around here.”

“Amen,” Angelo muttered.

“You look different today,” the shrewd older woman commented, watching me from the stove as she kneaded dough.

“I slept well, took a shower…” I evaded.

She narrowed her eyes at me. Distraction was the best course of action when Carmella smelled a secret. My gaze landed on a bruise on Carmella’s cheek.

“What happened to your face?”

She shrugged off my question.

“Was it Silvio again?” Only Silvio thought he had the right to knock around the staff at Casa Nera. He was picturing himself as capo one day and thought that Angelo and Carmella should show the same deference that they did to Renato and me.

“You should tell my father, or at least Franco. He should know what his son is.”

“You think Franco is going to reprimand his spoiled son over an old woman like me, a maid? Don’t be silly.” She crossed herself. “Let’s just pray that Antonio stays in good health for a long time.”

---