Page 74 of His Dark Vendetta

“Then, I’m going to take you from behind. Hold your hair while I give you the pounding you deserve for all your mouthing off.”

He bit my neck, harder this time, and a strange pinch made me gasp. Liquid fire radiated out from a tiny pinprick, but it dissipated as quickly as it arrived. Whatever it was, I wanted more of that delicious sting.

“I swear to God, Luca, if you’re talking shit right now, I’ll find a way to pushyouoff that bridge.”

He chuckled, dark and sinful, and his thumb descended on my clit, rolling over it in slow circles. The shock raced through my body like lightning. I jerked, and he tightened his grip.

“And after your second orgasm…” He licked my neck where I’d felt the pinch and nipped at my ear, never stopping his thumb’s torturous circles. “After I fuck you deep from behind, I’m going to flip you over and fuck you again, nice and slow.” He picked up the pace of his thumb and his fingers, and I stilled, balanced on the edge of spectacular. “I’m going to make you feel every inch of my big dick owning your tight little pussy.” And with a curl of his fingers, I came undone.

My muscles clenched. My shoulders shook. My world shattered into a million pieces. Everything destroyed by Luca Moretti.

“Hell yeah, baby. Come for me. Fuck my hand and come for me.” He stilled his fingers inside but kept the pressure on my clit like he knew exactly what I needed to ride out the orgasm, to make it last as long as it could. I ground myself against him without shame and without restraint.

Panting and shaking through aftershocks, I slumped against him and rested my forehead on his. Our combined breath was frantic and hot.

He pulled his fingers out, lifted them to his mouth, and licked them clean. “I’ve dreamed of tasting you.” His dark eyes locked with mine through each sinful taste. “You’re even sweeter than I imagined.”

He rubbed the pad of his thumb against my lips until they parted, and he dipped it into my mouth. I closed my mouth around his thumb and ran my tongue over it, tasting myself. His chest rumbled with satisfaction.

He pulled his thumb back but paused on my bottom lip. He stared at where his thumb held it, and his nostrils flared as if exercising immense control, as if the temptation of my mouth was a line he refused to cross. In one swift motion, he stepped back, lifted me off the island, and set me on my feet. I wobbled, shaken from my orgasm, but he held me up until I regained my balance.

He rubbed my nipple through my shirt, pressed it hard, and rolled it under his thumb. He slid his other hand around my hip to my ass, squeezed, and forced me into him. His rock-hard erection pressed into my stomach.

“Upstairs.” He swatted my ass. “Now. On my bed.”

Who was I to disobey?

ChapterTwenty-Three

Luca

The scotch was bracing, but after coming home to find Agent Asshole on my porch and finger-fucking Siobhán on my kitchen island, I needed bracing.

Watching Siobhán handle Agent Johnson killed any remaining suspicion that she was a rat. She could’ve spilled or used the opportunity to leave. Instead, she gave him the runaround. She played along, a little too well, and gave me a raging hard-on.

I shot the rest of the glass and poured another. I’d started down this path and there was no turning back. My dick wouldn’t allow it. I kicked off my shoes and bounded up the stairs to my bedroom.

Siobhán was sprawled atop my comforter, one hand behind her head, elbow out to the side. The other traced the top edge of her thong. She bent one of her long legs and rocked her knee from side to side. The tiny scrap of white lace covering her perfect pussy was made even more sexy by that ridiculous tank top. It was just tight enough that her nipples poked through the thin fabric. I downed a mouthful of scotch.

She was ready, squirming on the bed and rubbing her thighs together. The way she devoured me with her eyes made my dick twitch and leak.

I set my drink on the nightstand and unbuckled my belt. “You ready to be thoroughly fucked?”

Her lips parted on an intake. “Yes,” she answered, soft and breathy.

She watched me undress, not hiding her appreciation or desire. She’d looked at me like that before. Across the lobby, at the gala, the night upstairs at Vesuvio. Like she wanted to devour me. I had no doubt my eyes held as much heat if not more. They started to turn downstairs with my fingers inside her. My fangs descended too despite my best efforts at restraint, and I nicked her neck. The instinct to bite down almost bested me, but I’d never take her without permission, and permission required explanation. I had to remain in control.

I pulled off my undershirt and stood in my boxers. Her eyes traveled the length of my torso. She swallowed, licked her lips, and rolled onto her side, reaching for my waistband.

I dropped my boxers, and my erection sprang free. Her eyes widened, and she propped herself up, inching closer.

“You want this, baby?” I took my dick in my hand and rubbed the pre-cum dripping from the tip all over its swollen head. “Is this what you want?”

She reached for me again, and I stepped back. I stroked myself, agonizingly slow, but I wanted her to beg. “Uh-uh. I told you downstairs—you need to play nice. I asked you a question, and I want an answer. Now what do you want?”

“I want you,” she said, low and husky.

“Which part of me?”

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