Page 35 of Darkest Sin

“Good. Then come for me, Chiara. Let me feel how hard you squeeze my cock.”

She doesn’t hesitate, releasing the hold on her orgasm and allowing it to explode through her body, shattering her like glass. Her sweet little cunt violently convulses around me, so damn tight that I can’t hold on a second longer. I come with her, shooting hot spurts of cum deep inside of her, filling her with my seed.

I keep moving as she rides out the high, her head thrown back against the wall in elation as her death grip finally eases in my hair. “Holy fuck,” she pants, struggling to catch her breath, but I’m right there with her, needing to release one of my hands to brace against the wall.

“So fucking perfect, Angel,” I murmur, dropping my lips to her shoulder.

Chiara goes limp in my arms, a satisfied sigh slipping from her lips. “If that’s the punishment I get, maybe I should lie to you more often.”

I lift my head, my fiery gaze locking onto hers, finding nothing but an intrigued challenge staring back at me. “Don’t try me, Chiara,” I warn, my cock still buried deep inside of her. “You won’t enjoy the consequences.”

“I don’t know,” she teases, a playful smirk stretching across her lips and making a rush of . . . something pound in my chest. “I certainly enjoyed those consequences.”

I shake my head, unsure how to respond. Nobody challenges me like this. I don’t let them close enough to even try, and yet here she is, giving it her all, and what’s more? I fucking love it.

“Come now,” I say, pulling out of her and stepping back before helping to settle her on her feet. “If I’m gone for too long, people will come looking, and when they see you with those flushed cheeks and hard peaks of your nipples straining through your dress, they’re going to want a taste of what’s mine, but let me make this clear—I don’t intend on sharing you.”

A nervousness flashes in her eyes. “And if someone were to put their hands on me?”

“I would cut their hands off and deliver them right to your door.”

Chiara grins and inches toward me as she fixes her dress back into place, though I have no doubt she’s currently feeling the way my warm cum leaks out of her and spreads between those juicy thighs. She’ll be excusing herself to go to the bathroom in no time. She lifts her chin, her lips barely a breath away. “I don’t know whether to panic because that was the most messed-up thing you’ve said yet, or to start blushing at your misguided attempt at romance.”

Taking her chin, I capture her gaze, and she becomes still. “Understand me, Chiara, that was not a misguided attempt to sweep you off your feet. It was honest. If someone were to put their hands on you, I would end them. Nobody steals from me.”

She visibly swallows, and I wave my hand toward the door, a subtle demand to get her ass moving. She does as she’s asked, and I follow behind her before reaching around her to open the door, only as she goes to step out of the supply closet, the deep rumble of my tone stops her.

“For what it’s worth, my sweet angel. When I do decide to romance you, it won’t be a misguided attempt, and you’ll do a shitload more than just blush.”

She sucks in a gasp, her cheeks flushing under my heated stare. “Go now,” I prompt to get her moving again.

Chiara walks out before me, and as the door closes and my hand falls to her lower back, I can’t help but notice a shift in the atmosphere within the room. The dancing has stopped, replaced by the wives gossiping between themselves and glancing around the room as though searching for something . . . or someone. And there’s no doubt this is the result of my new marriage becoming public knowledge.

As I lead Chiara through the room and toward our table, those gazes land on her. Full of judgment, jealousy, and spite. Every single one of these women has shamelessly thrown themselves at me over the years in hopes of standing by my side at the head of this family, their husbands be damned.

I see the questions in their eyes, wondering why her? What’s so special about this girl who appeared out of thin air? What does she have that they don’t? And the answer to it all—everything. She is everything that they aren’t, and that’s exactly why I’m so drawn to her.

“Everyone is looking at us,” Chiara says under her breath, clearly not comfortable with the speculation.

“Let them look, Angel,” I tell her. “They’re curious and confused why after all these years I’ve finally decided to take a wife, and on top of that, they’re questioning why the usual steps weren’t taken. Any wedding of mine should have been a grand event, a show of money, and tradition, and the fact that there wasn’t is causing a stir. I’m sure you can understand that. But mostly, they’re looking at you, and to that? I say let them feast on your beauty. Their jealousy and hatred will be their undoing.”

“Jealousy?” she questions, her gaze lifting to mine. “Why would they be jealous?”

“Look at you, Angel. Look at the life that’s been thrust upon you. The luxurious lifestyle and highest level of protection. Nobody can touch you, and as long as you are standing at my side, you stand at the top with me. These women have clawed the eyes out of weaker women just to take their place. They’ve each had to fight their way to where they are, but not you. This life was handed to you without question. They have a right to be jealous, but what they do with that is up to them, and how you respond will determine the kind of strength you possess.”

Chiara cringes and glances back over her shoulder, taking in the huddle of women surrounding the bar. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a look I’ve never seen from her before today, and I realize that she would prefer to face my wrath than a bunch of spiteful women.

“Tell me about yourself,” I say, more than ready to move this along and take her mind off the inevitable.

Chiara glances back at me, fixing a smile across her face, but I’ve come to realize it’s fake. Her true smile, now that’s where her beauty really shines. “I, umm . . . There’s not much to tell,” she says, seemingly caught off guard by my question.

We finally reach our table, and I pull her chair out before helping her sit, and the soft groan that rumbles through her lips tells me that she’s sore from the thorough fucking I just gave her in the supply closet. But she asked for it. She begged me to fuck her, and I don’t do anything halfway.

“Tell me what you feel is worth sharing,” I say as I take my seat beside her, positioning myself in the best seat in the room that gives me a vantage point of the whole ballroom and is closest to the entrance of the secret underground tunnels that lead to a safe house.

“Okay, well, I was a foster kid. I was abandoned by my mother as a baby and dumped at an orphanage without any form of identification. I grew up in the system, bouncing from house to house until I was about fifteen when I finally found a bit of stability. The family I was with wasn’t that great, but they treated me okay and were happy to let me do my own thing, as long as I kept my space clean, maintained my grades, and didn’t get myself in trouble.”

I nod, having known all of this from the information Sergiu found for me. “After that?”

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