Page 18 of Desire and Revenge

She drops back onto her heels, her tone casual yet tinged with something darker. “At events, new couples always sneak off, returning looking disheveled... It always seemed so thrilling, but the reality? Far from it. It makes me wonder why they even bother.”

“Explain,” I growl, hating how much I want to know about her sex life with Sebastian yet unable to stop myself from asking. I’m far too curious about what she thinks sex is.

Her lashes lower, shielding her eyes from me. “I’m just saying, it’s not as great as people make it out to be.”

“It’s far better,” I counter, my voice firm.

Her eyes snap up to meet mine as I continue, “You just need to be with someone who shows you how much he wants you. It starts with how fiercely he kisses you. From the first brush of lips to the way his tongue plunges into your mouth. Diving in, seeking yours. Ravaging you in every possible way. A kiss that mimics just how hard he’s going to take you. Own you.”

I should stop. This isn’t something you say to another man’s wife. But why do I feel compelled to explain this to her? Does she really interest me, or is this just some sick, twisted part of me wanting to destroy every shred of innocence she has?

A sick feeling of needing to ruin her. Corrupt her. Make her unfit for any other man.

But she isn’t just with any other man. She’s with Sebastian. And that should be a clear enough warning to abandon this mission before it destroys everything.

“He doesn’t kiss me like that,” she admits softly, her voice almost a whisper. “And I wish he would. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like such a statue.”

I remember Sebastian’s words from earlier, and they sound even worse coming from her. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“I want to be kissed the way you described,” she continues, her eyes pleading. “To feel wanted. To be ravaged.”

Tension crackles through the room, and her eyes are pleading. Her mouth is red and raw from being bitten and, God, it’s such a beautiful mouth, and it’s such a shame that it’s been so neglected.

It would just be a kiss.

One taste, and that’s all.

“Nero.”

It’s a plea, an order, and a supplication all at once. I take a step back, cutting the cord that’s drawing taut between us. On the list of women I can never touch, Sofia Lucchese is at the top, written in big, bold, neon letters.

I suck the nicotine into my lungs and let out a breath, smoke curling up from my mouth. “Go to bed, Princess.”

I leave before I can do something stupid, like give in to the voice in my head that says she’s just a pawn on the board and taking her will only be a power move.

This time around, I don’t go back into the house. Instead, I pick my way through the cobbled paths to my 1967 Chevrolet Impala sitting in the garage. I drop into it and step on the gas, burning rubber out of the compound and towards the docks where Donatella’s little house sits like a beacon for desperate men like myself.

The luxurious inside is a startling contrast to the drab exterior, and as soon as I step in, I have the insane urge to retrace my steps, but I force myself to continue in. I have to get rid of whatever this itch under my skin is, and jerking off to images of Sofia isn’t going to cut it tonight. Not even close.

“Hello, handsome,” a blonde with artificially plump lips approaches me, arms open wide. She’s in a barely-there red dress, and her breasts spill out from the low neckline.

Donatella’sisn’t a brothel, but the bar always seems to attract people in need of a quick, dirty sexual escapade.

“I have a room upstairs,” she purrs into my ear, “and the blonde at the bar will be joining us.”

I don’t spare the third party a glance. “Let’s go.” The more, the merrier, I guess. If this doesn’t succeed in exorcising her from my head, nothing will.

Blonde one signals to her friend, and together, we make our way up the spiral stairs and to the upper level, where a hallway full of doors extends ahead of us.

The door is barely shut behind us when they throw themselves at me. I turn my head away to dodge their eager mouths and they only look disappointed for a second before they start tossing off their clothes.

I light up a cigarette, and by the time I’ve taken a few drags, they’re already kneeling in the middle of the bed, naked and hungry. I pull off my t-shirt and then shuck off my jeans and briefs.

“Oh my,” one of them gasps, gaze fixed on my half hard cock. She crawls forward and swallows my cock into the back of her throat, a sound of her pleasure vibrating through my skin.

Her mouth is snug and hot around my length, and I go from a semi to fully hard-on in no time at all. The other girl goes to dig out condoms from the bedside table, and then she tugs me into the bed.

I’ve never been a fan of picking up random girls at bars. I much prefer to have an understanding with someone where we are solely in it for sexual gratification. A string of new girls every night with names that all bleed into one big jumble don’t do it for me, but it’s all I can get tonight. I don’t just want this, Ineed it.

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