Page 93 of Sinful Pleasure

“Down on your knees.”

I sank to the floor between him and the bed. Maddox let out a throaty moan, removing his condom as his sticky, warm release hit my face. He kept coming, covering every inch of my skin as if he were painting a masterpiece.

I licked him clean, savoring the mixed taste of us on my tongue.

When he was done, he sighed in relief and patted my cheek. I looked up at him through my lashes, my face still dripping with him.

He started dressing, his eyes fixed on me like he was admiring his handiwork. My legs were too weak to stand.

Once he was fully clothed—perfect as always—he stepped closer, his finger swiping some of his release from my chin and bringing it to my lips. I opened my mouth, sucking it clean.

He groaned, his hooded eyes watching me.

“Such a good fuck toy you are, princess. My brother is one lucky man.”

The malice in his words burned, each syllable meant to wound.

But before I could respond, he was gone.Just like that.

He left me there—naked, used, and covered in his release—as a cruel payback for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand.

“Angelo is one lucky man.”

If I thought Maddox King was an arrogant, heartless motherfucker before, now I have no doubts left.

And I’m done. So fucking done.

Enough is enough, Allyn.

It’s time to show this prick exactly who the hell you are.

CHAPTER28

MADDOX

“We got him, sir.”

Dean, one of my most trusted men, said as we walked down the dark hallways of an abandoned building toward the basement.

“Security caught him near the Delgado family’s house.”

I clenched my jaw. “Son of a bitch.”

This piece of shit is working for someone—someone targeting my family. And now, Allyn.

It’s not hard to imagine why. We have the whole damn world against us.But whoever is behind this just sent one of their men straight to death row.We had an agreement with the other families. After Angelo fucked up everything in Italy, my father pulled our business out of there.

What more do they want? A war? Fine.

I’ll bring them a war they’ll fucking regret. My hands are itching for violence anyway.

I shoved open the first door in the basement. Five of my men were already there, standing guard over the bastard tied to a chair. Not that it was needed—he was barely conscious.

Both his eyes were so purple and swollen they were nearly shut, his face a mess of cuts and blood that dripped steadily from his wounds. Everylabored gasp of air sounded like it brought him agony.

I shrugged off my coat, tossing it onto the nearby table, and rolled up my sleeves.

“Leave us.”Without a word, the room emptied, leaving me alone with this pathetic excuse of a man.

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