Page 37 of Unhinged Little Angel

No one will miss me for a little while. Besides, what’s Cyrus going to do? Fire me? I chuckle at the thought of the manager calling me into his office to tell me he’s sick of my shit and that taking an unauthorized break is the last straw, and the look on his face when I flash him the ring on my finger and tell him who my new husband is. It might be worth finding some way to piss Cyrus off just for the chance to give him a fucking stroke.

My amusement fades just as quickly as it came. Isthiswho I am now? Instead of the badass, unhinged twink who’s not afraid to throw an elbow or break a few bones, now I’m a wilting flower wielding my husband’s name as a shield so I don’t have to fightmy own battles. If I met this version of myself, I’d think he was fucking pathetic.

Fury and disgust roil in my gut as I make my way up the stairs, half tempted to turn around and walk the hell out of here, away from Salvatore, away from this whole fucking mess, to start fresh somewhere new. Who would that Dante be? I reach the top of the stairs and my eyes land immediately on my mafioso in his blue suit, leaning against the railing that overlooks the club below.

The wildfire of emotions raging inside of me finds a fresh piece of kindling to devour.Salvatore. Violence heats my skin, so similar to lust it’s almost impossible to tell the difference, and my cock seems to be just as confused as my brain is, swelling against the soft, delicate lace of my thong.

He pushes off of the railing and turns around like he can hear my footsteps over the music, or the shift in my breathing as the flames of my anger crackle and pop inside me, or maybe he can just feel my eyes, the way I always seem to be able to feel his from across the room.

“Angioletto,” he purrs, sweeping his gaze over me slowly, from my spiked heels all the way up to the smoldering rage in my eyes. “Fighting then,” he murmurs, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.

“What?” I don’t wait for him to explain though, grabbing him by the lapel and dragging him towards the closest private room with the sign on the door flipped to Vacant.

I raise my knee to chest height and kick the door open, taking a small amount of satisfaction in the sound of the cheap wood splintering where my heel connects and the way it rattles on its hinges as it flies open. Apparently, the sign was a lie, which makes the startled yelp the man on the couch with his dick out lets out really not my fault. Genesis stops swinging his hips in the man’s face and turns a glare on me.

“What the fuck, Dante?”

“Get the fuck out.” I’m not in any mood to play nice. I’m in the mood to scream and thrash and burn the world down just to find some balance with the chaos going on inside my head. Maybe Genesis sees it in my eyes, or maybe he’s perfectly fine with the excuse to end the private dance early since he’s already been paid. He just shrugs and saunters out while the guy zips up, muttering under his breath about the interruption, then hurries out behind him.

I swing the door shut forcefully behind them and then spin towards Salvatore. I’m practically vibrating, seething for reasons I don’t completely understand, and he’s as relaxed as ever, loosening his tie before taking a seat on the far end of the leather couch, nowhere near where the other man had been sitting.

“What’s the matter, Angel? Is this about the break-in at your place?” He rests one arm casually along the back of the couch and spreads his legs to make himself comfortable.

My eyes are drawn to the hard bulge between his thighs and my body remembers how it felt last night to have him pressing me against the shower wall, his cock dragging ruthlessly against mine, my body melting with surrender. And then his words sink in, and I snap my eyes back to his.

“It’s not about the break-in. I could give a fuck about the soon-to-be-dead prick who can’t seem to stay the hell out of my apartment,” I growl, and Sal’s lips twitch with a heated smile. “And fuck your nephew, by the way.”

“He’s not stupid, Angioletto, he had to tell me.” He leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs. “Do you just need something sturdy to rage at, or did I actually do something to piss you off?”

“You fucking ruined me.” I try to snarl at him, but the sound comes out too strangled, halfway desperate like an animal caught in a trap. “Or, I don’t know, Don ruined me. I ruinedmyself.” I feel like everything is spinning again, like I’m gasping for a breath I can’t quite catch. “This isn’t me. I don’twantthis to be me. Myhusbandfending off men who try to touch me like I can’t handle them myself,” I spit the words and stomp closer to Salvatore without meaning to.

He leans back again, looking up at me with warm, lustful, confusing things dancing in his dark eyes. He puts his hand on my thigh, tracing the shape of the wide holes in the fishnets with his thumb.

“I thought it would give you the chance to dance without having to worry. You didn’t like it?”

I grit my teeth and sway another step closer, putting myself right between his spread legs. My achingly hard cock strains against my underwear right at his eye level. There’s no way to hide the way my body has learned to react to him, and I don’t bother to try.

“I did like it,” I growl.

He arches an eyebrow and leans forward, holding my eyes as he drags his tongue in a slow circle over the bare skin of my lower belly, just below the edge of my corset.

“You’re mad at me because you liked feeling taken care of?” He licks another slow circle. “Defended?” He nips at the wet spot left by his tongue, drawing a gasp from my throat and making my cock twitch eagerly. “Protected?”

“I can protect myself. I always have.” I shove against his shoulder—at least that’s what my intent is, but somehow, I end up with my fingers digging into the soft fabric of his jacket, feeling the sturdiness of his shoulder underneath.

Both of Salvatore’s hands land on my ass cheeks, bare except for the open weave of the fishnets. The lacy strip of fabric wedged into my crease rubs teasingly against my hole and all the untouched parts of me throb.

“Canandhave toaren’t the same thing, sweetness. Something tells me you’ve been fighting for too long already. It’s okay to rest and let me go a few rounds for you.” He drags his lips over the head of my cock as he murmurs the words and my knees quake.

“I ran to you instead of even trying to deal with Don myself,” I counter, my protests sounding weaker as my anger starts to get lost with every kneading grasp of his hands and every teasing brush of his lips.

His eyes flare and he grabs me harder, burying his face against the hard, pulsing length of my cock. The lace doesn’t do anything to blunt the heat of his breath or the wetness of his lips.

“Because you knew I’d protect you. There’s nothing weak or wrong about that. A smart man uses any weapon at his disposal. There’s no honor among monsters, all that matters is who comes out on top.” It sounds so simple when he puts it that way. Don wouldn’t hesitate to use the Mafia to come after me if he had the chance, so why should I feel bad about it?

I swallow hard and my knees wobble again.

“I don’t know who I am anymore though. If I stop swinging my fists at every threat, if I let you fight for me instead, then I’m just a devastatingly hot guy with no clue what to do with himself.”

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