Page 36 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
I grip her hips hard enough to bruise, anchoring her while I drive deeper, finding a rhythm that builds and breaks, builds and breaks, until she's trembling again, gasping my name like a curse, a prayer, a promise.
"Enzo," she moans, desperate, high and wild. "Don't stop."
I couldn't if I tried.
I roll us, taking her with me, letting her ride me, her body sinking down over me with a choked cry that turns my vision white.
Her hands brace on my chest as she grinds her hips, her breasts bouncing, her skin glowing in the low light.
I watch her unravel, sweat gleaming along her collarbones, her pupils blown wide, her lips parted in perfect, aching ruin.
"Look at you," I breathe, sliding my hands up her thighs. "Fucking made for this. Made for me."
Her head drops back as she rocks faster, chasing the edge again, her muscles fluttering around me.
I grip her hips and help her move, thrusting up into her, brutal and unrelenting.
She screams, and I feel her clamp down, spasming hard as she shatters in my arms, falling forward, burying her face in my throat.
I wrap her in my arms and roll us again.
Her legs are still shaking.
Her body's gone limp.
But I'm not finished.
I fuck her through it, slower now, but deeper, my intention clear even if my words are not.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Her hands find mine and grip tight, our fingers laced as I press her wrists into the bed and hold her beneath me.
She blinks up at me, dazed and wet-eyed, and something inside me breaks.
She's not just a girl anymore.
She's not a Lombardi pawn or a rival's daughter or a forbidden indulgence.
She's everything I've ever wanted, and I didn't even know it.
I drive into her one last time and groan as I spill inside her, my hips jerking with each pulse.
Her mouth finds mine again, and the kiss this time is slower, more lingering, full of something I can't name.
I collapse beside her, pulling her into my chest, the sweat drying between us.
5
ARIA
Awarm, clinging layer of dampness covers my skin, the sheets heavy and close against me.
The room hums with the thick, almost overripe scent of sweat and sex, a dark, intimate fragrance that lingers like a brand, soaked into the walls, into the mattress, into me.
I lie in Enzo's bed for a long moment, unmoving, curled into the place where his body had been just minutes before.
Enzo rises without a word.
