Page 5 of Damaged & Deadly

Her fingernails dig into my back, and her mouth parts on a silent gasp. Dipping down, I lick along the seam of her lips before capturing them with mine. I groan into her mouth as I begin to move, both satisfied that I’m finally showing this woman and the world that she’s mine and kicking myself for not just fucking her the second I saw her in that club.

Nothing exists except her soft groans, our heavy breaths, and the feel of her wrapped around me. When I feel her begin to tighten, I pick up the pace until she’s falling apart for me again. Only then do I let go and roar out my release.

My head is buried in the crook of her neck as I come back to earth. I simply lie there for a long moment, breathing in her cherry-scented body wash and relishing the feel of her sweat-slicked body beneath mine. Her chest heaves, her heart hammering out the same frenzied beat as mine.

Eventually, I push myself up, my soft cock sliding out of her. Climbing down her body until my shoulders are between her thighs, I stare possessively at her swollen pussy, dripping with my cum. Scooping it up with a finger, I push it back inside her.

“Dante,” she groans. The sound of my name on her tongue, in that heady sex-dripping tone, has my gaze darting up to her face, finding her watching me with a half-lidded glazed look. Maintaining eye contact with her, I lean in and run my tongue along the length of her. She shudders, and another husky groan escapes her parted lips as our taste floods my mouth.

“Delicious,” I growl before diving in for a second lick. My arms wrap around her thighs, holding her open and preventing her from writhing as I feast on the taste of us until she’s screaming her third orgasm of the night. When she comes down, I kiss her deeply, tangling my tongue with hers and ensuring she tastes us. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” Her response is a breathless whisper as I slide back into her, more than ready to go another round. Hell, with her, I’m pretty sure I could go all night.

She’s close to coming when I hear the sound of the front door closing downstairs. Knowing the only person it can be is Lor, I pick up my pace. Wrapping my hand around her throat, I squeeze it enough to get her attention. “Scream my name,” I tell her. “I want everyone in a ten-mile radius to know who’s making you come apart.”

Drunk on orgasms and delirious with need, she doesn’t even argue, and my girl does me proud as she roars my name loud enough that there’s no way Lor didn’t hear her.

By the time I hear him in the hall outside my door, I’m leaning back against the headboard with a smug smile on my face, and Sawyer is sleeping peacefully beside me.

***

“Where are you going?” I demand when I sense Sawyer getting out of bed the next morning. We couldn’t have had more than a few hours of sleep. Certainly not after I woke her several times during the night to elicit multiple scream-inducing orgasms from her. Now that I’ve gotten a taste, I simply can’t get enough. She’s like an addiction I don’t ever want to break.

Reaching out, I pull her back into the bed and roll us so she’s trapped beneath me, pinned to the mattress. “Dante,” she sighs, and damn, it doesn’t sound anywhere near as good as when she was pleading for me to give her what she needed or screaming it as she squeezed the cum from my dick.

“I need to shower. I’m gross.” I run my eyes over her naked body, smirking when I spot the dried cum on her inner thighs. A primal sense of satisfaction rises within me.Grossdefinitely isn’t the word I’d use. However, the thought of pinning her to the shower wall and making her see stars has my dick twitching to life.

“Fine,” I relent, still not letting her up. “We can shower.”

“Dante.” Again with that tone. I much preferred when she was pliable and moaning beneath me. Although I knew her submission was too good to last. “I just… this is alla lot. I just need ten minutes to myself. Please.”

Her pleading tone and the vulnerable look in her eye have me conceding before I even realize what I’ve agreed to. However, it’s fucking worth it when she graces me with a small, unguarded smile.

She wriggles, and I reluctantly let her up. “I grabbed the bag you had at the church,” I tell her, gesturing to the duffel bag on the chair beside the bed. That earns me another grateful smile that goes straight to my chest and causes a weird tightness I’m unfamiliar with. She’s not paying any attention when I lift my hand, pressing it against my chest to try and quell the strange feeling.

Grabbing her bag from the chair, I shamelessly watch as she shuffles into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and a moment later, I hear the shower turn on. In an effort to prevent myself from disregarding her request and storming in there anyway, I grab my phone from the bedside table and decide to go through my emails and catch up on any work-related issues.

When the screen lights up, I notice a message from Lor that must have come through in the middle of the night. I snort in amusement as I read it.

You’re a complete fucking dick.

Well, it’s nice to have confirmation that he definitely heard us. He’s been stalking around Sawyer like she’s his when she most certainly isn’t. I don’t give a shit about their history or his obsession. Unfortunately, that stunt my father pulled had some of the desired effect. Somehow, even though he was forced to fucking violate her, the experience has only strengthened whatever there is between them. In turn, it’s only made me even more possessive of her and adamant that he’s not getting her. I hope he fucking enjoyed his time inside her sweet cunt because I won’t let it happen again.

Ignoring his message, I scroll through my emails, sending a few replies when necessary. I’m responsible for delegating jobs to my father’s team of assassins and ensuring there are no fuck-ups. I leave most of the mundane stuff to Lor, preferring to be in the thick of it myself, but things with my father recently have me taking a more active role with the men. I’ve worked with most of them for years, and I know some are loyal to me. Nevertheless, it doesn’t hurt to reinforce my presence and test the waters.

Until recently, I’d been content to just go along with my father’s demands. The main issue of contention between us has been Lor—namely my insistence that he be my Consigliere. I should have known he would eventually take the matter into his own hands. Sawyer’s unexpected appearance in my life just solidified it. Keeping her safe was the more pressing issue then, but now that she’s officially off-limits to my father, I need to find a way to get out of my agreement to have Sam as my second. There’s absolutely no way I’ll let that shithead swear in as my right-hand man—the person I’m supposed to trust with my life and turn to for advice. He’d sooner advise me to jump off a cliff so he could steal my position. And after the way he manhandled Sawyer at Belle Donne… not a fucking chance. The only future he has in store is a painful demise at my hands.

As for my father… I have no idea how to deal with him. I wish he’d just leave it alone. He’ll be dead and buried by the time I’m in power, so why the fuck does he care who is at my side? Sometimes I think it’s not even about that. That perhaps he sees Lor as a threat. My father spent a lot of time training me, molding me into the perfect Antonelli. I spent days alone in the tunnels beneath this part of the city, running around in the dark without food or water, trying to find my way out. Nights shadowing Santos and some of my father’s closest advisors as they carried out gruesome and heinous jobs. All so that I could become the leader that our people need. A large part of that training was him ensuring I didn’t form emotional connections—not that I’m even capable of such a thing. However, Lor presents the greatest threat to that. Well, him… and now Sawyer. If my father indeed is threatened by that, then it would explain why he sent Santos to kill her. However, that would also mean that I’ve painted an even larger target on her back by bringing her into this world.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t realize the water has shut off, and it’s only when the bathroom door opens, steam pouring into the room, that I’m pulled back into the present. With a white towel wrapped around her, Sawyer steps warily into the room. I can immediately tell from the rigid way she walks and how her eyes bounce around the room that her walls are back up. The second I spot it, frustration blooms. I bite down on my tongue, choosing to watch her instead. Despite the barriers she’s erected in a vain attempt to distance herself from me, she doesn’t appear to be withdrawn or afraid. My frustration gives way to curiosity as she crosses the room to my closet. I hear the clink of hangers as she looks through the shirts I have hanging on the rail before she grumbles something under her breath. There’s the sound of drawers opening and closing, and I’m just about to get up to see what she’s doing when she reappears, dressed in one of my shirts and a pair of boxers.

Fuck. I’m burning all of her outfits. She shouldn’t wear anything except my clothes ever again.

“Don’t you own any sweatpants or joggers?” she gripes.

I’m so busy lusting over her that it takes me a long moment for her words to register. When I finally do tear my gaze away from her long, smooth legs to meet her face, I find her cocking a brow at me. “Huh?” Her words finally penetrate. “Oh, no.”

Her face scrunches in confusion. “No? But what do you wear when you're just lounging around?”

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