Page 100 of SINS & Temptation

“Open the door,” Smoke calls out.

“Please, Enzo,” Kennedy says, her voice all sweet and innocent. I’ve seen her take my cock. That girl is definitely not innocent. No, sir.

“Do not make us break it down,” Dante warns.

“I’d like to see you try, fuckers!”

And because wishes really do come true, they break down the door to my suite and saunter in, smiling and unapologetic.

Dillon takes my drink like the jerk he is. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Well, I haven’t. You want to know when it’ll be enough? When those four fuckers are pounding on me tomorrow like I’m a chicken cutlet, and I feel absolutely nothing.” I snatch the glass back, downing it in one go, then slump against the wall.

Andre has won. And the thought of that eats me from the inside out like flesh-eating beetles.

“Can I have a word with my husband?” the angelic voice says. Her words are soft and sweet—a siren’s song—and her perfect mouth is all I want right now.

But having her here, witnessing what’s about to go down—my inevitable death—is too much, even for me.

I grab Dante by the collar with both hands. “Get her out of here.”

“Make me,” he dares, stubborn as all shit.

I pull back my arm, ready to throw a punch, but his knee grazes my balls just enough to make me see stars. The next thing I know, I’m on the ground, wincing in agony. “You’re dead,” I growl.

“Tough talk coming from a guy eating carpet.”

The next thing I know, I’m being hoisted into the air and dropped onto the bed, the dizzying effect nearly making me hurl.

“We’ll be outside,” Dillon says.

When her soft body curls up next to mine, I resist. Correction, I try to resist. My dick is all in. “Go run to Knox.”

She slides down one spaghetti strap, achingly slow, exposing one luscious tit, and then another. “I don’t want to run to Knox.”

She hikes up her dress and straddles me as I prop myself up on my elbows, defiant. “You need to go.” Because if we do this tonight, there’s no way I’m leaving her in the morning.

So, I crack open my heart. The gloves come off. “I’ll be dead tomorrow, Kennedy. You need to leave.”

Her full lips pout as she undoes my pants. “How would you rather die, Mr. D’Angelo? By four men in a cage, or me, slowly fucking you to death?”

Is this a trick question?

She knows exactly what she’s doing with that raspy voice of hers, calling me Mr. D’Angelo and all.

But enough is enough. Playtime’s over. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I throw her onto her back, flipping her so fast she gasps. “Bella, I won’t tell you again. I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.”

“Why not?” she purrs, playing with my tie.

This woman. She frustrates me. She antagonizes me.

She shatters me.

Her father’s death is on my hands, his blood. I’ve hurt her enough. If she has any feelings left for me, I need to destroy them all.

Otherwise, Kennedy will stay. Like her father before her, she’ll try to save me. Then my wife will watch me die.

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