Page 123 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

He stood up and took two short steps to me then bent over, his fingers gripping my chin roughly.

“And those eyes,” he purred, his breath too close to me. His scent made me want to gag, the bile stuck in my throat. “Glimmering like oceans on a bright day with the flames of the sun dancing in your hair.”

Fucking poet this one.

Without thinking of repercussions, I spit in his face.

I offered him a sweet smile, but I refused to utter a single word. My gut feeling was telling me Marco got off on women’s terror and pain. I’d be damned if I offer that up willingly. If it was the last fucking thing I did, I’d die with a fake smile on my face, and not a single whimper from my mouth.

Before I could even take a breath, Marco charged me, slamming my head against the wall, his body on top of mine. My neck twisted at a weird angle, my head pushed against the wall, Marco’s body on top of mine, and I realized there was no usual panic from a man’s touch. My skin didn’t break out in hives, my breathing didn’t turn erratic. It was as if I was outside my body, watching the whole scene unfold without a care.

I relaxed my whole body, letting the fucker get all excited. He thought he overpowered me. It was exactly where I wanted him. He found me vulnerable; that was a big mistake on his part.

“Say a word,” he rasped. “One word.”

For a fraction of a second, my heart tripped, but I quickly willed it to stop. Panic had no room here right now. It would go south from there, and we were pretty fucking close to it already. I pressed my lips tight, exercising control.

“You know you like it.” He breathed into my neck, his mouth on my skin. I would need to shower in bleach to wash him off. Fucker! “One word,” he said, making my skin crawl with disgust.

His head was buried in the crook of my twisted neck, his stinky cologne way too close for comfort, but I ignored it all. I focused on my next step, kept my fear faded somewhere in the back of my mind.

His grunts of pleasure and hands on me made my stomach roil. He was hard, his hips pushing against me. As if he was humping me. The picture of a dog humping came to mind and a hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. I had to be on the verge of insanity. The memories that rushed into my mind right before I was knocked out, this situation and events of the past week finally caught up to me.

He reached his hand between our bodies, fumbling with his belt and I found my window of opportunity. He was so far gone in his excitement, he never noticed my body shifted.

His head lifted, our eyes connected. There was a sick glimmer of excitement shining in his dark depths. It hit me right then. Luca and Cassio… my Hunter… my husband… those two were nothing like this sick fucker. Nothing!

The striking resemblance between Hunter, Luca, Marco, and their father started and ended in the physical appearance. The latter two were cruel, evil and sick. They actually enjoyed inflicting pain on women. Thrived in it even.

Hunter and Luca saved them. Respected them. Cared for them.

“Say a word.” He pulled his dick out and I scrunched my nose. Must be the ugliest dick on this planet. In one swift move, I shoved my knee with all my strength into his pitiful jewels.

His bellowed wail almost deafened me, his entire body hunching over. I pushed him off of me, watching him fall like a stiff, wooden board onto the ground. It was almost comical.

I jumped to my feet, my bare feet against the dirty floor. Lowering my gaze, I watched him impassively. It was where this asshole belonged. His face smashed against the filthy, piss stained floor.

The rumors are true, I mused. It would seem hitting a man in his groin was extremely painful.

“Fucker.” I let the word come out loud and clear, but he couldn’t even register it from the pain in his groin. So I flung my bare foot against his face. “Here is your one word.”

I squatted down, his gaze barely tracking my movement. His eyes were unfocused. I grinned coldly.

“You wanted me to talk, motherfucker. Well, here I am.Talking.”The look on his face said it all. Realization that maybe,just maybe, I was crazy.

The screams of the women he tortured, cut, and fucked were louder than ever in my brain. Those images would be ingrained in me for the rest of my life. Those women would be scarred, physically and mentally, for the rest of theirs. If they were even lucky enough to have survived.

My fist curled and I couldn't resist. I itched to see pain on his face, feel it from his every breath.

So I reached out and put my right hand over both of his that hovered over his crotch. Though it disgusted me to touch him, there was nothing that would stop me from my next move. I squeezed with all my strength.

Another wail as he tried to fight me but I was stronger.

“What’s the matter, Marco motherfucking King?” I taunted in a low, eerily voice as I cocked my head. I removed my hands off his crotch, letting him tend to the disgusting dick. “You can dish the pain, but you're too weak to take it?”

I smiled darkly as I patted down his pant legs.Bingo!

Knife holster. “I know how much you love your knives,” I purred with a dark smile. “Shall we start?” He grumbled something intelligible, still holding on to his familyjewels. It was pointless, because he wouldn’t need them.

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