Page 70 of Tortured Hearts
Because dark can’t exist without light.
And two severed hearts can’t love without hate.
“Let me prove it to you,” he says heatedly.
“Then you’ll let me go?”
He nods. “Then I’ll let you go.”
But something in his voice feels off.
It feels final.
I wrap one arm around his waist and slide the other down the front of his pants, inhaling his groan as I palm his hard cock. His desire is the one truth he could never hide from me. When I give it a squeeze, he chokes out a harsh string of Italian and slams his palm against the wall.
“Ogni parte di me appartiene a te, anche nella morte.”
He doesn’t translate, and I don’t ask. Maybe it’s because he’s everywhere, his lips owning my mouth while his hands memorize my skin. Or maybe it’s because I don’t want the truth to steal their beauty.
Pulling back, I hold his stare. “Take me, Gianni Marchesi. Make me yours forever.”
However long that lasts.
In an explosion of lust and loss, he pushes us flush against the wall, nothing between us but raw desire and a ticking clock. Keeping one hand tangled in my hair, he bunches the hem of my dress in his fist and hands it to me. “Hold this, and don’t let go.”
A wicked smile stretches across his face as he slides his hand under my dress and winds the thin string resting on my hip around his fist. In one vicious tug, my panties rip, then he’s on his knees, and my world implodes. Themoment his tongue slips inside, my eyes roll back in my head. Unbalanced, I sink my fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots as he fucks me with his mouth.
I’ve never teetered so close to the edge, unsure whether to fight for my life or beg for death. Gianni lashes at my clit as if punishing it for untold sins, licking and sucking until I’m trembling on the crest of another powerful orgasm.
“Oh, God!”
“Not God.” His fingers dig deep into my thighs. “I want to hear you screammyname.”
My hips buck as I implode. “Gianni!”
As I struggle to breathe, he rises to his feet, licking my arousal off his lips. Instead of driving into me, he stands motionless, his rigid cock battling his still-buttoned jeans as I grip my dress. “We can stop here. You’re in control.”
Pretty words from a filthy mouth.
“I want you inside me.” Entwining my fingers around his neck, I pull him close.
With a low growl, he grips the back of my thigh and hitches it around his hip. He tugs at his jeans, then I feel him fist his cock. “What do you want?”
“I want the criminal, the liar…”
“The arsonist,” he takes over, sliding the smooth head of his cock through my wetness as my back hits the wall. “The killer. The extortionist. The villain.”
“I want all of them.” I kiss him, tasting him, myself, and this fucked-up obsession that damns us both. “I wantyou.”
With that, Gianni becomes unhinged, driving into me with one powerful thrust. He fucks me with his hate, his rage, and every broken piece of us that never had the chance to be. I don’t just feel him inside me; I feel him in my soul.
I drop my chin, watching his cock slide in and out of me, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like possession.It feels like rebirth. He’s fueling me by replacing my blood with fire. His thrusts become frantic, the power behind them forcing me onto my toes as he chases a release that will obliterate us both.
I grip his shoulders, my vision blurring as his hand tightens around my throat. I choke out his name again as a third orgasm consumes me. The strangled sound pushes him over the edge. He pumps harder, faster, rougher… But tension can only stretch so far before it snaps, and with one last slam of his hips, Gianni throws his head back, coming violently in an unholy roar of my name and broken Italian.
Then silence.
The high fades, sending reality crashing down around us. I wrap my arms around his neck, desperately holding him against me.Fire is powerful, but it’s no match for a storm. Once I let go, our candle will blow out. He’ll slip through my fingers, and we’ll go back to being predator and prey.
