Page 203 of Tangled up in You

I hear a deep voice call from behind Sal, and the motherfucker takes all his time sucking on my tongue and letting my bottom lip drag out of between his teeth one last time, before turning in the direction of the person who interrupted us. Without letting me go. Still holding me pinned to the wall. His big dick throbbing against my melting pussy.

VITO

I’m fucking pissed…and turned on. The way Isabelle’s long legs are hooked around Sal’s waist, her thick thighs exposed. Sexy high heels and all that exposed, tempting rich mahogany skin. Fuck, we need to get her out of here. We need to fucking snatch her away and take all our goddamn fucking time to play with her. Tease her. Worship her. Make her come. Over and over. Till she’s claimed, ours, owned entirely. Undoubtedly.

“Your time’s up,frà,” I growl, staring into Sal’s mocking gaze.

Motherfucker takes all his fucking time lowering Isabelle’s legs and pulling her dress back in place.

She looks fucking magnificent, goddammit. Her long hair went from perfectly styled loose curls to a freshly fucked look that makes my dick rock hard at the thought of sliding my fingers through her curls, fisting and pulling, while I’d be pounding into her tight channel from behind. The image is crystal clear in my mind. I’d take her right here and now. Bent over the balcony. Lift that fucking sexy dress, move her panties to the side and slide home. One hand curled at her full hip, the other fisted in her hair, my hips slamming into her wet, hot, snug cunt… Fuuuuuck.

“Sorry,mano. One forgets themselves in the presence of such perfection.”

Sal leans into Isabelle and presses a soft kiss on her cheek.

“I’ll see you later,mamacita.”

On that, he exits the balcony, sending me one last look I clearly read as a combination of ‘you’re in for a treat’ and ‘you’re fucking screwed, too’.

I advance toward Isabelle and she meets me halfway. Out of the four of us I’m probably the one she’s the most familiar with. Her family is a mid-range ally to another Italian mafia family, the DeLuca’s, so we’ve met on more occasions than Misha, Danni, and Sal have. And like every fucking time, she fucking takes my breath away with her beauty, her presence, and fucking mind-clouding sexy body of hers.

Isabelle wraps a soft hand around my wrist, looking up at me with intense eyes.

“What in the fuck is happening here, Vito?”

“We claim to claim you, cara,” I rasp out, looking her straight in the eye.

“What?” she exclaims.

“You’re ours. We’re here to take you.”

“But… I…”

“You wanna make me believe you don’t know there’s something between us? Always been, sweetheart.”

As I speak, I press my body into hers, bring my face close to hers, rub my cheek along the soft skin on the side of Isabelle’s face. Gently pecking and nuzzling her. I graze her delicate skin with the tips of my fingers, eliciting a wide range of reactions from her pliant body. Isabelle sighs languorously, her delicate hands gripping my broad shoulders. A low hum vibrating at the back of her throat. Eyelids closed, breathing ragged. Her full, tempting lips parted. Her fucking round tits rising and falling in a maddening rhythm. She’s fucking magnificent. All soft, curvy, and fucking turned on. I keep pressing devouring mouth-opened kisses along her velvety skin, and she moans even louder. I slide down the smooth curve of her jaw, and my nibble fingers swiftly undo the scarf tied around her neck. Fuck, she feels good. All warm and soft, and the way her perfume blends with her feminine scent? shit, I’m done for. I’ve been done for this girlsince day one, and knowing she can finally be ours, I can barely contain myself.

I take a step back to soak in all that’s Isabelle Sinclair. The long, softly waved hair, the big doe eyes that will sure be my undoing, that fucking temptress’ mouth, and-

What the fuck?!There are bruises on my girl’s neck. Fucking shaped like the hand that most likely squeezed her delicate throat. Tarnishing Isabelle’s otherwise smooth brown skin. Someone is fucking dying today.

CHAPTER 2

CLAIMED

ISA

“What the fuck is this, Isabelle?” Vito growls in a low, menacing tone that would make me pee myself if it wasn’t draped in possessive protectiveness.

My fingers fly to my neck, and I realize, too late, I let him undo my scarf under the spell of his enticing kisses.

I shake my head.

“It’s nothing. Nothing for you to worry about. Just-”

I bend down to pick up my silk Hermes scarf, but of course Vito is faster. He snatches it from the ground in one swift move and fists the delicate fabric so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t disintegrate.

“Who the fuck did this to you, Isa?” He snarls.

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