If I betray this thing of ours, may my heart be torn from my chest, and my name forgotten.
He’d sworn theOmertàon my heart.
That was an unbreakable vow, a promise worth a million, and he had promised it tome.
I tiptoed to press my lips gently to his, but he snatched my head back by my hair and his lips devoured mine. He thrust his tongue roughly around mine, swirling in a maddening rhythm that coaxed a heat deep within my core. His spare fingers cupped my jaw, groping and teasing my skin as though it would offer more of me.
He was rough, so rough that goose bumps of pain rose along my scalp, but despite what a dick he’d been to me and everything he’d done, I trusted him enough that it stopped being pain and flushed into pleasure.
This was what he needed, and maybe I did too.
Milan groaned into my mouth as I jumped onto his tower of a body, sliding my legs around his waist. The sound of him giving in to the chaos that he always controlled made my thighs slick with arousal.
“Am I hurting you?” I whispered against his lips, aware that his wounds were open and scattered over his torso.
A low rumble emanated from his chest. “This is not the right time for me to take you to bed gently. I require to release the emotions that you have put within me, and my hands do not feel soft.”
My core pulsed at the thought of his rough fingers against my flesh, of him in his worst form usingmeto heal the anger and pain in his body. He’d definitely turned me into some kind of a masochist, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I rubbed myself against his growing length like a cat in heat, reveling in how his fingers shook with frustration and anger and need.
His lip snarled in response as he laid me gently onto the soft studio sofa, the old one that held years of rebellion, but as he stood over me, tall and imposing and corrupted as hell, he softened his eyes and tilted his head. “You are nervous.”
His fingers dropped his cufflinks onto the floor with a loud crack, startling me, reminding me that he had said something.I didn’t want to nod, but I did, like I was entranced.
“About what?” He frowned.
“Hurting you.”
His wrecked shirt dropped from his shoulders, and my breath hitched.
It was so rare to see this much of him, for him to put his scars on display like I was deserving of seeing them.
Each time I saw him was like the first.
Each time it reminded me of why I never wanted to look away.
Milan stepped forward, his half-naked body looming over mine. “Touch me.”
I did what I was told, the soft tip of my finger dragging a path over his untouched skin, over each ridge of muscle that hadn’tbeen bloodied or bruised, but he tutted, and his palm came down on my cheek, stinging but nothurting.
This was what people spoke of when they talked about pain with their pleasure, and I could see it becoming an addiction.
I wanted more.
Milan snatched my fingers and shoved them straight into the bloody mess of wounds, scratching my nails down the bleeding cuts. “When I say touch, youtouch.”
“Aren’t I hurting you?” I gaped, the blood sticking underneath my nails probably a good indicator that I obviously was.
He frowned at me, continuing to slick my fingers with his blood. “Yes. I am bleeding, Sicily.” He tipped his head back, his free hand removing his thick leather belt. “It makes me hard.”
Any sane person would’ve screamed, ran for the hills, or both, but I wasn’t sane, not anymore.
Milan had to have control over everything, that was part of who he was, and he would never give that up. I’d always lacked control in this world, but now, willingly handing it to Milan felt like a choice, like thatwasmy control, and I surrendered completely.
My heart was beating faster than I could control as he unzipped his pants and threw them away with his boxer shorts in one swift movement. His long, impossibly hard cock sprang free, and before I could ask him how the hell he intended on fitting thatanywhere, he flipped me onto my stomach and unfastened each tiny clasp of my dress, ripping the final ones clean from the fabric.
He left me bare in all but my heels.
“I have seen your paintings,” he said with a slight smirk as his eyes roamed me, bringing me back to the sight of him, like Iwasthe painting. “Yet you are staring at my cock like you have never seen a man before.”
