Page 29 of SINS & Temptation

I guess when I’m sleep deprived is when I become brave. Or delirious. I look up at the small red dot and let out a ripe, delicious moan, “Ahhh...”

Nothing happens.

Hmm. I test the waters even more and shove aside the blankets, giving the light and whatever it’s attached to in the ceiling full view of my body.

Then, I undress. Slowly so what’s probably a smoke detector can catch every move. I slide the oversized cock between the valley of my breasts, down my stomach, and finally, to the delicate triangle of my thighs.

This wasn’t about Enzo D’Angelo, though my nipples tightened at the thought of him, furious with rage at my disobedience, barging through the door, spreading my legs, and burying himself in me with one swift thrust.

And this wasn’t even about getting myself to sleep, which, an orgasm usually does when I’m restless or anxious.

This was about me, reclaiming some small semblance of control, doing whatever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want.

And maybe Enzo isn’t watching at all, but imagining he is makes me hot enough to keep going. My finger tracing circles along the base, ready to get off with the mother of all vibrators.

“Is this what you want, Mr. D’Angelo?” I ask no one at all.

When I press the button, the buzz is so loud, I jolt. It takes me a minute to figure out the settings—fast, slow, pulse, jackhammer.

I ease it back to something I’m used to. Then, I imagine what he would do, and dial it up the slightest bit.

Half of me screams, What the fuck are you doing? while the other half of me—the one controlling Titan—presses forth like the charging of the bulls.

“Are you watching?” I asked, my voice raspy to the empty room. Out of nowhere, I add, “This could be you, Enzo. Shoving that big cock of yours where you want.”

Jeez. Who am I?

Propping up to my elbows, I smiled at the dark corner of the ceiling, lick my lips, and smile shyly. “Would you command me to spread my legs,” I say to the ceiling, spreading my thighs just enough.

Confident that he isn’t actually listening at all, I add, “Would you make me open up wider?”

Silence.

Well, except for the low hum enticing its way to my sweet little spot, as I prepare to go to absolute town on myself.

I suck my middle finger hard before slicing it down my body, ready to work in tandem with the toy. “Please, fuck me, Mr. D’Angelo,” I beg. “Fuck me hard.”

Chapter Thirteen

ENZO

I mentally grapple with the question: How many can I actually take on at once?

Half a dozen? Maybe.

A dozen if I truly put everything I have into it.

This isn’t bravado talking. It’s my inner predator—the beast—the one that’s been unleashed before and will come out again, without hesitation.

Growing impatient, I repeat, “How many?”

We have one shot at this—a single chance to storm the warehouse, annihilate every one of Andre’s henchmen, and free hundreds of captive women. Simple.

Easy fucking peasy.

And that’s not just the two bags of C4 at my feet talking; it’s me betting everything on a team whose skill, brutality, and thirst for blood are unmatched in every way—including my own brother. The knot in my gut twists that much more thinking of Dante by my side.

I know this won’t be a clean getaway. It’ll be chaos. Full-blown Armageddon times ten. And with Dante here, if things go south, our family risks losing not one but two brothers.

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