Page 4 of Ruthless Desire

I picture her slender fingers wrapped around the brush, stroking and stabbing the canvas. Pouring her twisted heart into each furious brushstroke. What I wouldn't give to have those hands on my cock, painting it with her bloody red lips.

"I'll take it," I growl, already picturing the ways I'll make her scream my name. Marcello stammers out a price, but I silence him with a glare. "I'll take them all. Every last one."

His eyes widen in shock before the greed sets in. "Of course, Signore Corleone. It will be a pleasure doing business-"

I'm already storming out the door, Alonzo at my heels. The New York City summer garbage stench cloys in my nostrils, but my mind is consumed with her. My raven-haired temptress.

"Boss?" Alonzo looks at me warily as I light a cigarette with shaking hands. "What's the plan?"

I take a deep drag, letting the nicotine flood my system, steadying the maelstrom of need and obsession churning within me. The plan? As if I could boil down the dark yearning, the all-consuming hunger this woman has sparked in me to something as prosaic as a fucking plan.

"The plan," I rasp, my voice rough with a desire I don't bother to conceal, "is that I own her. Body, mind, soul - every last fucked-up, beautiful inch of her. Starting now."

Alonzo sighs but dutifully whips out his burner phone, already barking orders to rally the men. He knows better than to question me when I get like this, when the beast inside me scents blood and won't be denied.

As I slide into the Escalade, the city lights blur into a crimson haze, mirroring the fever pitch of my thoughts. All I can see is her face, those haunting gray eyes that seemed to stare into the abyss of my very soul from the canvas. Natalie Quinn, my twisted little Mona Lisa. My Venus de fucking Milo, carved from marble and madness.

The tires screech as I whip into the underground garage, the engine's roar echoing like a war drum in the cavernous space. I'm already hard, my cock straining against the confines of my tailored slacks, aching to bury itself in her sweet cunt and never come out.

I storm into the penthouse like a man possessed, barking orders at Alonzo to clear the walls, to find out every scrap of information on my elusive new muse. He scurries to obey, wisely giving me a wide berth as I stalk from room to room, manic energy crackling under my skin.

I won't rest until her art surrounds me, until I'm drowning in the twisted glory of her vision. Each piece I unveil is like peeling back the layers of her mind, exposing the pulsing, bloody heart of her darkness. It's a drug, a high I know I'll never quit, never come down from.

By the time Alonzo returns, manila folders tucked under his beefy arm, I'm in a frenzy, pacing the halls of my penthouse like a caged beast. I snatch the files from him, tearing into them with a hunger that borders on rabid.

Every detail of her life, every secret and scar and sin, laid out before me like an unholy feast. But it's the photos that stop me cold, the candid shots of her laughing, flirting, going about her daily fucking life.

"Fuck," I snarl, a red haze descending over my vision as I flip through image after image of her smiling up at some preening fuckboy, letting their unworthy hands paw at her silken skin, her fucking perfect peach of an ass.

White-hot rage boils up inside me, a jealousy so fierce and primal it practically claws its way up my throat. I hurl the folder across the room, watching it explode against the wall in a flutter of paper and glossy prints.

The crystal tumbler of scotch shatters against the fireplace a heartbeat later, shards of glass glinting like diamonds in the crackling light. Alonzo flinches but wisely remains silent, watching from the doorway as I stalk back and forth, grinding the remnants to dust beneath my Italian leather soles.

He knows what's coming, knows the hell I'll rain down on any man who's dared to touch what's mine. And Natalie... my dark perfection, my tortured fucking Aphrodite... she belongs to me now. Every last quivering, exquisite inch of her.

"Put eyes on her," I command, my voice a guttural rasp as I round on Alonzo. "And I mean 24/7 fucking surveillance. Drones, dash cams, bribed baristas - I want to know every move she makes, every breath she takes."

Alonzo nods curtly, already lifting his phone to bark out the orders. He knows the drill, knows how this dark dance plays out. He's been with me long enough to anticipate my darkest desires almost before I voice them.

"And Alonzo," I add, my tone deceptively soft, my eyes glittering like black ice. "If she so much as smiles at another man... you come get me. Immediately. So I can rip the motherfucker's lungs out through his lying mouth. Understood?"

Alonzo goes a shade paler but nods, swallowing hard. Message fucking received. There will be no half-measures, not where my Natalie is concerned. Not when I can already feel her essence burrowing into my bones, my black fucking soul.

He scurries from the room like the devil himself is on his heels. And maybe he is. Because the longer I stare at her haunting visage, at the raw anguish and unholy allure of her self-portraits... the more I feel myself slipping into an abyss of my own making.

An abyss I'm all too fucking eager to pull her into, kicking and screaming and begging for more.

Alone at last, I allow myself to sink fully into the depraved miasma of my obsession. My fingers trace the air before her canvases, skating over the slashes of crimson and black as if I could feel the heat and texture of her torment against my skin.

I imagine those slim, paint-stained fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking and squeezing until she makes an absolute mess of me. Those ripe, pouting lips parted in a moan as I bury myself to the hilt in her tight, wet cunt...

A groan tears itself from my throat, my chest heaving like I've run a marathon. I palm myself roughly through my open zipper, hissing at the feel of my own blistering need.

It's not enough. It'll never be enough until I have her - the real her - naked and writhing beneath me, those stormy eyes glazed with desperate lust and raw fucking terror as I claim every last secret hollow of her body.

My mind spins out, weaving a tapestry of perversity as I picture all the ways I'll make her mine. All the ways I'll break her and remake her, mold her into the perfect dark consort to rule at my side.

Chains and gags, brushes and blades. Candle wax and cuntal plugs, clamps and cuffs, and cocks - oh yes, I'll stretch that sweet little fuckhole until she's ruined for any other man, until she's nothing but a desperate, dripping receptacle for my pleasure...

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