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He knotted a hand in my hair and kissed me with a possessive hunger, staking his claim and reiterating his promise to own every part of me. The burn and ache intensified between my legs, making me release a small groan.
Keeping his hand on the back of my neck, he pulled away and looked down at me with a sensuous smile on his gorgeous face. I swallowed again, shifting uncomfortably from the wetness between my legs.
“Come with me.” The look in his eyes and his seductive words had all sense of logic failing me.
We were in his car heading back home within minutes.
He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other two fingers deep inside my pussy, pumping and stroking as he sat beside me, utterly stoic.
I gripped the door handle so tightly the pigmentation in my knuckles had turned white, biting my lip to keep quiet.
My dress was up around my waist, my underwear somewhere down on the floor. He brought me to the edge repeatedly and then eased off the entire drive.
He parked the Wraith and got out. Coming around to my side, he ushered me inside the house. That was when I spotted the blood on the collar of his shirt.
The second we crossed the threshold, I attempted to ask him about my uncle, but found myself pressed against the door with one my legs hooked over his forearms, causing it to slam shut. He had his cock out and inside me without further preamble.
Even with me being as wet as I was, his rough intrusion burned. My walls worked to adjust around him as he fucked me with a punishing brutality. I gripped the doorknob with one hand and balled up part of his tux with the other.
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“You feel so good,” he soughed. “Tight. Perfect.” Digging his fingers into my ass, he thrust harder with every word. I was forced to rise up on my tip-toes to alleviate the pressure. He filled me to capacity, the head of him hitting something inside me I wasn’t aware existed. “Your pussy is so wet, so greedy for my cock,” he rasped.
I felt like I’d been deprived of a necessary narcotic. My ecstatic moans and whimpers couldn’t be controlled; they carried throughout the empty house and echoed back ten times louder. Perspiration began to gather on our flesh.
A small ball of panic formed in my stomach as an all-consuming heat slithered down my spine and gathered in my core.
“Mateo,” I cried out, overwhelmed by the feeling washing over my body, making my muscles taught, and then boneless.
He hooked my other leg around his waist and fucked me harder, stopping only when his cock swelled and he came inside me with a quiet grunt. We stayed pressed together in silence, our heavy breaths dancing between us in the air we fought over.
“Meu,” he murmured in my ear, before sealing his mouth over mine and kissing me tenderly.
His tongue was laced with a bittersweet poison. Being with him was like diving into a pool of drugs.
I was on the verge of an overdose, but I didn’t want to be saved.
Chapter Eighteen
Sergio and Elias met me at three in the morning.
The black Tahoe they’d arrived in was parked caddy-corner from the lake, its high-beams illuminating the dark water.
“Tell me why you’re here with us and not home with that pretty little woman you plan to make a blushing bride?” Elias asked as I approached.
“My Elena has been well taken care of, fucked, fed, and is now sleeping on a set of Porthault Jours de Paris sheets.”
I didn’t add that throwing her down and fucking her was all I wanted to do twenty-four seven. I was a man of self discipline and iron clad control. It only unraveled when I buried my cock deep inside her and wrapped my hands around her throat.
This was me exercising restraint.
As she said, we were more than just sex, and I knew we had an extremely rocky path ahead of us. Sooner rather than later, she would know everything. I wasn’t entirely sure what route to take in terms of that information coming to light.
Being with me meant being consumed by me. I was unapologetically possesive, at times cruel, controlling, and my ability to be empathetic was majorly skewed. I wasn’t going to change who I was—not for anyone.
But fuck if I wasn’t trying to be understanding of this woman’s plight.
It wasn’t a personal goal to hurt Elena, but I was going to. It was inevitable. Feelings were often casualties caught in the crossfire of war. All I knew for certain was that if I had to break her to keep her safe, I would do it.
