Page 59 of Heartless Vows

My animalistic whine fills the air. He groans and wrenches the fabric off my arms.

“Fucking hell, I need your hands on me. Touch me. Scratch me. Bite me. Whatever you need, Aurora. I can’t hold back anymore.”

True to his word, he grabs my hips and surges into me.

Agony overrides my pleasure. I gouge his forearms with my nails and wedge my knees against his stomach, trying to push him away, but he’s too strong. He pulls back before thrusting impossibly deeper into my body. I scratch, fight, and sob until he pushes my legs off his torso and drops forward to bracket my head with his hands. Surrounded and filled by him, I cry and writhe as he murmurs apologies and praises against my temple, ear, and throat.

When he takes my mouth with the same fervor he claims my pussy, every ounce of pain in my body morphs to pleasure. The sudden flip scrambles my response. I push and pull, scratch and caress, gasp and grunt, and bite and lick without rhyme orreason, desperate for so many things, I don’t know what I’m asking for.

He gives me everything. Every inch of his cock. Every ounce of his power. Every orgasm my body can muster. Every drop of his release. Every piece of his soul.

Silent tears trail over my temples as his cock jerks inside me. He holds me close, as though I’m something precious, and murmurs sweet words into my hair.

In the most profound and intimate moment of my life, I realize there’s only one word to encompass the way I feel for Giorgio Vivaldi.

Love. I love him.

The jerkmademe fall in love with him. He gave me no choice. He gave meeverything.

Guilt sweeps through me. I haven’t given him anything. I’ve omitted so many things.

Two could destroy everything.

One isn’t important right now. I’ve been healthy for years and show no symptoms, so my medical issues can wait.

Tristan cannot. He’s in danger.

“What’s wrong,mia topolina? Did I hurt you?” Giorgio asks as he strokes my hair back from my sweaty temple.

“No, you didn’t. I just… I l—” the word gets stuck in my throat.

His pleasure-laden eyes soften further.

“It’s okay, Aurora. I know. I love you, too.”

His declaration stuns me into nodding, but I sob and shake my head when I realize how much is at stake.

“Iliedto you!”

Surprise wipes the lazy joy from his eyes.

“But I don’t want your money, or your empire, or to trap you, or anything like that. I lied to protect Tristan,” I beg him to understand.

He quirks a brow and rubs his thumb over my cheekbone, still propped on his elbows with his cock lodged deep inside my body.

“What lie did you tell me?”

The menace in his tone sends a chill down my spine even as his invasion stretches and wakes dormant parts of me.

“It’s not what I told you, but what I didn’t tell you,” I say.

He brushes my hair back from my face and tilts his hips, grinding our joined bodies against each other. I gasp as my overworked organs throb with a mix of pain and pleasure.

“What did you not tell me?” he asks.

“I’m the Achilles heir. Tristan’s father is Otello Tempe, not Horatio Achilles, but—”

Giorgio covers my mouth with his palm and wraps his long, thick fingers around my face.

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