Page 83 of Veil of Blood

My lips press firm, searching, hungry, and his arms find my waist, pulling me close until I feel his heartbeat against my belly, strong and steady, a rhythm I’ve missed.

We don’t speak, don’t need to—every brush of his thumb, every press of his palm, writes our story into my skin. When our mouths part, I pull back, eyes closed, my breath shaky. His hands stay at my sides, steady, letting me choose what comes next.

I nod to the truck, my voice low, teasing. “Back of my car?”

He lifts a brow, a flicker of amusement, then ducks his head in agreement, his voice rough. “Lead the way.”

We move to the passenger side, the gravel crunching under our boots, and I yank open the door, sliding onto the folded-down backseat, the leather sagging under me, the cramped space already warm with our heat.

He slides in beside me, his body pressed close, the seatbelt clips dangling uselessly, clinking as we shift. My hands find the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and he helps, pulling it over his head, revealing his chest, the light hair curling at his collarbones, the healed scar I know by touch.

I brush my thumb across it, the rough texture grounding me, and he parts my jacket, unzipping my jeans, letting them drop to the floorboard.

I kick them aside, my panties following, and he unbuttons his jeans, shoving them down, his cock already hard, thick, and ready, straining against the dim light filtering through the fogging windows.

I tug him closer, climbing onto his lap, straddling him, my legs on either side, my weight pressing into him, the leather creaking under us.

His arm wraps around my back, one hand gripping my hip, lifting me until my knees dig into the cushion, my pussy hovering over his cock, wet and aching.

My pulse spikes, the thrill of having him under me, of reclaiming this, electric in my veins.

“No slow shit. I want you to wreck me.”

He chuckles, low and rough, his hand sliding up my back, fisting in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp.

“Wreck you? Chiara, I’m gonna fucking destroy this car.”

We move together, hips rocking, his cock sliding against my folds, teasing, not entering yet, the friction making me moan, loud and unashamed.

I grind against him, my clit throbbing, and he grips my ass, spanking hard, the sting sharp and delicious, making my pussy clench.

“Fuck, Rocco,” I gasp, and he spanks again, harder, the sound echoing in the cramped space, the car rocking slightly on its shocks.

“Keep talking,” he growls, his hand sliding to my throat, fingers wrapping around it, not squeezing, just holding, the pressure enough to make my pulse race, my breath hitch. I nod, urging him on, and he thrusts up, his cock entering me, hard and deep, stretching me, filling me, the suddenness pulling a scream from my throat.

The car shakes, the windows rattling, as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust loud, reckless, the leather creaking, the seatbelt clips clanging, the whole damn vehicle threatening to collapse under us.

I grip his shoulders, my nails digging in, leaving red marks, and lean forward, kissing him, our tongues clashing, teeth grazing, the kiss messy and desperate. His hand tightens on my throat, a light choke that makes my head spin, my pussy pulsing around him, wet and tight.

“Harder,” I beg, my voice raw, and he obliges, his thrusts relentless, his cock hitting that spot inside me that makes my vision blur, my moans turning to screams, loud enough to drown out the ocean outside.

He pulls out suddenly, and I whine, but he flips me onto my back, the leather sticking to my skin, the cramped space forcing my legs up, knees to my chest.

He spreads my thighs, his mouth diving between them, his tongue licking a frantic path through my folds, sucking my clit hard, his teeth grazing just enough to make me buck, my hands clawing at the seat, tearing at the stitching.

“Fuck, you taste better than I remember,” he groans, his voice muffled, and slides three fingers inside me, pumping fast, curling, then adds a fourth, stretching me, the sensation intense, bordering on too much.

“More,” I gasp, desperate, and he pushes his whole hand in, fisting me, slow and careful at first, then faster, his knuckles grazing my walls, the fullness overwhelming, making me scream, my pussy clenching, my body shaking as a climax builds.

He pulls his hand out, slick with my arousal, and slides a finger to my ass, circling the tight ring, teasing, then pressing in, slow and deliberate, the intrusion making me moan, my body trembling.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice rough, and I nod, my breath hitching as he adds a second finger, stretching me, fucking my ass while his other hand rubs my clit, the dual sensation pushing me toward the edge.

“Rocco, I’m gonna—” I gasp, and he thrusts his cock back into my pussy, hard and deep, his fingers still in my ass, the combined fullness sending me spiraling, my orgasm crashing through me, my pussy pulsing, my ass clenching, my scream so loud it shakes the car, the windows fogging completely, the shocks groaning under us.

He doesn’t stop, his thrusts wild, reckless, the car rocking violently, the frame creaking, threatening to give way.

He pulls his fingers from my ass, gripping my hips, spanking again, the sting sharp, and I push back, meeting every thrust, my hands braced against the door, my nails scratching the leather.

---