Page 22 of Fractured Devotion

“God, no.” Carmela’s hips came off the bed as I sucked her clit into my mouth.

Her mewls of appreciation drove me mad with desire, making me slurp and bite the tender flesh. It didn’t matter to me if she’d fucked a hundred men over the last year—her pussy was mine.

Shoving a finger between her folds, I drove my hand like a jackhammer into her core as my mouth worked her tender flesh. Sucking and licking, I fingerfucked her until her body tightened and her walls clamped down on my digits.

“Alex!” My name on her tongue made my dick painfully hard as I swallowed her sweet essence.

Once the quivering stopped, I pushed up and stood.

“No one matters after tonight, Carmela. This game you play stops once my cock is buried inside you. I don’t care if you have to fake being on the rag—Andrei doesn’t fuck what belongs to me.” I swirled my thumb around her sensitive button. “Do you understand?”

Nodding her head, she whispered, “Yes.”

“Because after tonight, your past is erased—we move forward together. In fact, you need to leave him, Carmela. End this dangerous game before he takes you away from me.”

“Alex,” She leaned up on her elbows as I folded my body over her and silenced any argument she had with a kiss.

“No arguing unless you don’t want this.” I fisted my dick and ran it through her drenched folds. “Because I can tolerate a lot of things, but his cock in my pussy isn’t one of them anymore.”

“I’ll leave… just give me some time.”

I thrust forward, burying myself to the hilt, making her hiss.

“Yes. Oh my God.”

In that fierce embrace, our lips met with the intensity of our pent-up emotions, colliding with a raw urgency that left no room for gentleness. There was no holding back; it was a contest, a fierce battle of need and desire, each kiss a claim laid, each touch a territory won. This time it was more than just fucking—it was the fusing of souls that had been split apart, now desperate to become whole again.

The act was supernatural, an elevation above the mere physical. We moved together in a dance as old as time yet as fresh as the pain and longing we’d endured while apart. At that moment, the past, with all its shadows, seemed to dissolve, and the reality of those lost months faded into insignificance.

In our stolen moment, there was no outside world, no threats lurking in the shadows—there was only us, two people reclaiming what was theirs, reawakening a connection that no amount of darkness could extinguish.

twelve

CARMELA

Leaving the comfort of Alex’s arms had been the hardest thing I’d done since peeling myself out of the wreckage in Columbia. Despite his protests, he agreed I needed to get back to Andrei so I could continue the facade I’d begun, but not before he shared the concerns he and my brothers had. After hearing the information Sofia Bianchi, the daughter of Rome’s Mafia Don and someone I hadn’t seen in over a year, had uncovered, I had to agree with their assessment.

Somewhere deep inside, where fear and hope tangled like thorns, I wondered if Lipovsky had unraveled my alias. That twinge of paranoia whispered did Andrei, too, know the person behind the mask I wore like armor? I shunned the thought like a dangerous shadow because if Andrei had even an inkling, I’d likely be a cold case or facing a fate worse than death—sold to the highest bidder again. With that unnerving notion gnawing at the edges of my mind, pretending to be ‘Ella,’ a clueless blonde only enamored by the power he yielded, became a necessity to survive.

True to my word to Alex, I had held our secret pact to heart, one I had not broken despite the veiled threats Andrei had made. For two whole days, I kept Andrei at arm’s length—no small feat. As loathsome as he was, he had his superstitions and his false sense of honor, which thankfully made him steer clear of me during my time of the month—another lie I’d conjured to avoid having sex with him. The slam of the hotel door snapped me back to the moment. I stealthily glanced over the back of the tiny couch, my makeshift shield, and stared into the eyes of evil.

“Get up,” Andrei demanded, his voice cold, bereft of any softness, as he clutched a handful of my hair and yanked—pulling me away from the faux security of the threadbare couch.

“Andrei… you’re hurting me,” I protested, my voice laden with disbelief, as I reached up to mitigate the searing pain that radiated from the roots of my hair. “What the hell are you doing?” The words tumbled out, laced with a growing sense of desperation.

He propelled me toward the bed, my balance failing me, sending me sprawling to the floor on bent knees. As I turned, in an attempt to seek out his eyes for some semblance of reason, his fist met my face with a backhanded strike.

“Did you believe you could deceive me so easily?”

Panic swirled within me. “What are you talking about?” I managed to say, my hand instinctively going to the soreness blossoming across my cheek as I fought to regain my footing.

Andrei’s fury was relentless, his fist unforgiving as he slapped me again, this time knocking me onto the mattress. I tasted the sharp, metallic flavor of blood as I gasped for air. His words were deadly as he spat out, “You lying cunt.” I couldn’t contain the cry that escaped me when his fist plunged into my stomach. “You’ve been playing with me… scheming…” His knuckles found my ribs with a punishing force. “All to get to Aleski. Consider our little game over.” With a cruel grip, he seized my blonde hair once again, dragging me unceremoniously toward the bathroom. “Get dressed, you whore… we’ve got places to be.”

He stood at the door waiting and watching as I stripped the leggings and sweatshirt I had on, replacing it with a sleek red bodycon dress. As I started to tug on a pair of panties, “Leave them off. You won’t be needing them.”

Swallowing the fear building inside me, I tossed them onto the floor. With him standing over me, there was no chance to retrieve the knife I’d hidden in the back of the toilet.

“Where are we going?”

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