Page 56 of The Madman and his broken Princess
Remo clamped a hand down on my shoulder. I froze. He usually didn’t touch me. Nobody was allowed to—except Amelia.
“Nino tells me I have a soft spot for you,” he murmured, his dark eyes locking on mine. He released me. “I suppose I do because I’ll give you slack for it.”
He turned his back on me and disappeared from view.
I exhaled. After my conversation with Remo, I felt the utter need to return to Amelia. When I stepped into our bedroom, her even breathing greeted me. I closed the door and listened to her sleep for a few moments. The moonlight caught on her pale armand red curls. I approached her slowly, then sank down on the edge of the bed.
Seeing her peaceful sleeping form, I wished I had a way to keep the nightmares at bay. I couldn’t imagine her not having them. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I wouldn’t feature in some of them.
Araw scream woke me, raising the little hairs on my arms. I blinked against the murkiness of my vision until it cleared enough for me to make out my surroundings. The dim early morning light cast its gentle glow on Nestore’s twisting form.
His expression contorted in agony. My heart clenched seeing it. I had rarely been present during his torture, but this look was painfully familiar, and so was the sound of his screams.
I sat up and touched Nestore’s arm, hoping to wake him from the throes of his nightmare. His eyes flew open, and his arms shot forward, fingers clawing at my upper arms. His harsh gaze settled on my eyes with hatred and fear.
I had my father’s eyes, a fact I despised.
“Nestore.”
His gaze registered my face, eyes tracing every contour until slowly the fear and hatred subsided. He relaxed and fell back,releasing my arms. His ragged breathing filled the ensuing silence. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I wanted to console him, but worried it would only incite his anger. I never knew if he wanted to shove me away or pull me closer. I put my fingers down on the bed beside him, as close as I could without touching him.
Nestore’s eyes wandered over my bare chest. Goose bumps erupted on my skin. I didn’t feel embarrassed by my nakedness around Nestore. He had witnessed me at my breaking point. It could hardly get more personal than that.
Nestore tilted his head back and stared up at the draped ceiling of the bed. “After breakfast, I need to join Remo in one of my clubs for business. I want you to accompany me. You should see my territory.”
Surprise washed over me. Women were rarely involved in the business. “Why?”
Nestore fixed me with a hard look. “Because you are my wife and my secrets will be yours.”
My heart throbbed. If he trusted me with his secrets, maybe not all was lost. “I’ll keep them for you.”
He nodded, then sat up and stood. He was naked, and the sight of him made my belly warm. I had harbored a crush for the beautiful Romano son from the moment I had seen him. Nestore Romano was still beautiful in a forbidding, haunted way, and his body was one out of every woman’s dream. The scars only added to his brutal exquisiteness if I managed to separate them from the torture that created each of them. The narrow V of his hips led down to his long cock surrounded by trimmed black hair. Remembering how his thick head had widened me and filled me up so fully made that need flood my body. My eyes registered a long, thin scar below his belly button. I didn’t remember it. I pushed to my feet, cringing at the intense soreness between my legs.
I limped toward Nestore and brushed my fingers over the scar. He shuddered, his gaze intense as he watched me. “This is new.”
He watched my fingers as they traced the scar gently. “I have dozens of scars.”
“I remember each of them, but this is new.”
I kept stroking the line, mesmerized by how smooth it felt. “A knife meant to spill my bowels like my father’s,” Nestore murmured.
“You killed the person who did this.”
“Eventually.”
I swallowed, then looked down at my hand. It had moved lower, and my fingertips were now stroking the edge of his pubic hair. His length slowly filled with blood, becoming even bigger. My belly clenched, remembering the pain, remembering the pleasure. My clit pulsed, remembering my release.
Nestore grasped my hand, his expression reflecting a dark need that amplified my anxiety and my lust. “I still need to claim a few more firsts, but Remo doesn’t like to wait.” He stepped back with a pained expression.
“A few more?” I echoed, confused.
A dark smile curled his lips. His thumb brushed my lips at the same time as his other hand squeezed my ass cheek.
I swallowed hard. Nestore backed away and moved into the bathroom.
The idea of having Nestore in my mouth was tantalizing, but in my back entrance? Not so much.
Nestore emerged fifteen minutes later, dressed in black pants and his fur coat.
