Page 111 of Ruthless Desire

The look she gives me is pure, wicked anticipation. "I thought you'd never ask."

What follows is a symphony of pain and terror. Leon's screams echo through the blood-spattered casino as Natalie and I take turns breaking him down, piece by agonizing piece. She surprises me with her creativity, her willingness to get her hands dirty. It's intoxicating.

By the time we're done, Leon is a quivering, sobbing mess. But he's alive – barely. He'll serve as a warning to anyone else who thinks they can challenge our rule.

I pull Natalie close, uncaring of the blood that stains both our clothes. "You were magnificent," I growl, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss. She responds with equal fervor, her body molding to mine as if we were made for each other.

When we break apart, both panting, I see a familiar hunger in her eyes. It mirrors the fire burning in my own veins. "What do you say we take this celebration somewhere more private?" I murmur, my hand sliding down to grip her ass.

She grins, all teeth and dark promise. "I thought you'd never ask."

We leave the carnage behind, my men already moving to clean up and solidify our control. The drive back to our penthouse is charged with electric tension. I can barely keep my hands off Natalie, the intoxicating mix of violence and victory making my blood sing.

The moment we're through the door, I have her pinned against the wall. Our kisses are bruising, desperate, fueled by the adrenaline still coursing through our veins. Clothes are torn away with frantic urgency.

I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I thrust into her in one powerful stroke. She cries out, her nails raking down my back hard enough to draw blood. The pain only spurs me on.

"Fuck, Natalie," I growl, setting a punishing pace. "You were incredible tonight. So fucking perfect."

She moans, meeting me thrust for thrust. "We both were," she pants. "We showed them, Dante. Showed everyone what happens when they challenge us."

The possessive pride in her voice sends a thrill through me. This is what I've wanted all along – Natalie fully embracing her place by my side, reveling in the darkness we create together.

I carry her to the bedroom, never breaking our connection. We fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, both fighting for dominance. I let her win, curious to see what she'll do.

Natalie straddles me, sinking down onto my cock with a satisfied groan. She sets a relentless rhythm, her hands braced on my chest. The sight of her above me, wild and uninhibited, is almost enough to undo me.

"Touch yourself," I command, my voice rough with need. "I want to watch you play."

She complies, one hand snaking between us to circle her clit. I watch, mesmerized, as she chases her pleasure. When she comes, it's with a cry that sounds like my name and a prayer all at once.

The feeling of her clenching around me sends me over the edge. I come with a roar, my fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. She collapses onto my chest, both of us panting and slick with sweat.

For a long moment, we just lie there, basking in the afterglow. I run my fingers through her hair, marveling at how right this feels. How complete.

"We did it," Natalie murmurs, her voice heavy with satisfaction. "We won."

I tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze. "We're just getting started, solnyshko. The Corsinis were just the beginning. Together, we'll build an empire that will make the world tremble."

She smiles, slow and wicked. "I can't wait."

As sleep claims us, I allow myself a moment of pure, unadulterated triumph. I have everything I've ever wanted – power, control, and Natalie by my side. The nagging doubts from before have been silenced, at least for now.

The war may be over, but our reign of terror is just beginning. And with my queen by my side, I'm fucking unstoppable.

Chapter 31 Natalie

The brush trembles in my hand as I drag it across the canvas, leaving trails of crimson in its wake. Each stroke feels like I'm scoring my own flesh, opening wounds that will never fully heal. But painting has always been my sanctuary, my one escape from the shadows creeping at the edges of my world. Now, trapped in the opulent prison of Dante's penthouse, it's a bittersweet reminder of the freedom I've willingly sacrificed.

The sharp tang of non-toxic paint - because God forbid anything harm his precious possession - fills my lungs. I hate how even this small detail speaks to Dante's obsessive control, his need to dictate every aspect of my existence. Yet a traitorous part of me thrills at the possessive care, the fierce protectiveness that drives him to envelop me in a cocoon of luxury.

This lavish studio, with its wall of windows overlooking the glittering Manhattan skyline, is both a gift and a curse. A constant reminder that Dante has given me the world, even as he's caged me within it.

"There's my beautiful little artist, hard at work."

Dante's voice, deep and smoky as aged whiskey, sends an involuntary shiver racing down my spine. I don't need to turn to picture the cruel curve of his lips, the predatory gleam in those obsidian eyes as he stalks towards me. The measured tread of his footsteps sets every nerve ending alight, my body betraying me as it always does in his presence.

"Don't call me little," I snap, forcing more defiance into my tone than I truly feel. I arch an eyebrow, still refusing to face him fully.

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