Page 13 of Ruined Through Obsession

"I will personally hand you the matches," Enzo promises, right before his mouth crashes down onto mine.

There is nothing polite or restrained about the kiss. His tongue sweeps past my parted lips, mapping my mouth with a masterful precision that makes my knees buckle. I clutch at his shoulders, grounding myself against his solid form as he walks me backward, forcing me to tumble onto the pristine white sheets of the bed.

He follows me down instantly, his muscular frame blanketing me and pinning me to the mattress. He does not bother to unbutton the oversized dress shirt I am wearing, he simply grabs the front panels and rips them apart, the sound of tearing cotton and popping buttons loud in the enclosed room. The violent display of impatience sends a jolt of intoxicating pleasure straight to my clit, completely addicting me to the way he commands my response.

"You belong to me now," Enzo growls against my skin. "Your uncle can broadcast whatever fucking price he wants to the underworld. Let them come. Let them try to take you."

He dips his head, his mouth latching onto the sensitive curve of my neck, right over my pulse point. He bites down, his teeth scraping against the delicate flesh with a punishing, beautiful pressure that forces a gasp from my lips. He sucks hard, bruising the collarbone, intentionally leaving a dark mark that brands me as his. The pain is a magnificent sting that instantly morphs into a pooling, throbbing ache between my thighs, confirming that I am completely and utterly captivated by his brand of darkness.

"Mark me," I urge, my fingernails digging into his back, arching my spine to offer him better access. "Show them exactly who I belong to, Enzo."

He grants my request with enthusiasm, his mouth trailing down the column of my throat to feast on the swell of my breasts. He nips and laves at my skin, leaving a trail of blooming bruises across my chest, branding me in the most carnal, primitive way imaginable. His large hands roam over my body, gripping my hips, parting my thighs with an insistence that brooks no argument.

He sheds the remainder of his clothing with an efficiency, freeing his rigid, hot cock before gently rubbing it at my slick entrance. He looks down at me, his eyes burning with a starving, possessive fire, taking in the sight of my ruined shirt and the dark marks blossoming across my pale skin.

“Enzo, please,” I whimper.

Enzo aligns our bodies, wrapping his hands around my thighs to hold me in place, and drives himself inside me with a powerful, singular thrust. The invasion stretches my walls and drags a loud moan from the back of my throat.

Fuck.

I wrap my legs around his waist, locking him flush against me, desperate to absorb every piece of his pleasure.

He holds me down, and start to thrust like a breeding bull, fucking me without abandon, meeting the incline of my hips with the wracking slam of his. The bedframes groans in protest against the violent motion. My hands scramble for purchase, gripping his broad shoulders, my nails leaving crescent moon indentations against his flesh, marking him just as fiercely as he marked me.

"Look at me, Elena," Enzo commands in a strained voice.

I force my eyes open, meeting his intense, consuming gaze, allowing him to see the pleasure and ecstasy swimming in my gaze.

"You are La mia Fenice," he breathes, his hips snapping forward, hitting a sensitive cluster of nerves that sends stars exploding across my vision. "And I am going to watch you take this fucking island for everything it has."

The dirty, encouraging words are the final push I require. I shatter around him, my inner muscles clamping down with a crushing force, sobbing his name as a blinding climax rips through my body. Enzo groans, his jaw clenching as he chases my release, driving into me three more times before emptying himself completely. He collapses against my chest, his heart hammering against mine, his breath hot and ragged against the newly formed bruises decorating my neck.

I realize I am not afraid of the fire my dear uncle has started, because I am going to use it to burn him alive.

11

Enzo

I stand by the small kitchenette with a lukewarm cup of black coffee resting in my hand, unable to tear my gaze away from the woman hunched over the digital tablet at the battered wooden table. Elena wears a plain black t-shirt, the hem riding up high on her thighs, her dark hair is pinned haphazardly atop her head to expose the canvas of her neck.

Even from across the small room, I can see the constellation of violent, purple bruises blooming across her collarbone and throat. I marked her. I stripped away the polished, untouchable exterior of the Vitiello princess and claimed the ruthless, burning creature hiding underneath.

I find myself cataloging everything about her with a disturbing frequency, my mind replaying the filthy, beautiful sounds she made as she shattered around me hours ago. I am forced to admit she is the most intoxicating exception I have ever encountered, she is a terrifying complement to my own darkness.

"The structural integrity of the eastern wing was reinforced three years ago," Elena remarks, her voice pulling me from my reflections. She does not look up from the tablet, but her brow is furrowed in concentration. "My uncle convinced my grandfather to install biometric scanners on the service entrances, but the idiot used a third-party security firm based out of Naples to handle the wiring. If we cut the main breaker at the northern junction box, the backup generators take exactly forty-five seconds to engage. That is your window."

I set my coffee mug on the counter, crossing the cramped living space to stand behind her chair. I place my hands on her shoulders, my thumbs grazing the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, feeling the instantaneous shiver that travels down her spine. "Forty-five seconds is a lifetime when you know exactly where you are going, mia bella."

Reaching over her shoulder, I tap the encrypted satellite phone resting beside her tablet. The device connects immediately, the secure line routing through three separate offshore servers before linking to the staging ground back in the States.

Giancarlo answers on the second ring. "Tell me you have a target, Enzo. The boys are restless, and I am getting extremely tired of watching Alessio take all the credit for cleaning up the Volkov mess in Boston."

"Boston is a distraction," I reply smoothly, my fingers tangling absently in the loose strands of Elena's hair. "Palermo is the head of the snake. I need you to mobilize the primary assault squad, Giancarlo. We are officially going on the offensive, and we are going to tear him out of his fortified castle."

"Fucking finally," Giancarlo mutters, the sound of a heavy weapons crate slamming against a concrete floor echoing in the background of the call. "I have thirty of our best operators geared up and waiting on the tarmac. We are packing armor-piercing ordinance, breaching charges, and enough incendiary rounds to level a city block. Just give me the coordinates. How are we bypassing the Sicilian port authorities? He will have the main harbors locked down tight with customs agents looking for our faces."

"We do not use the main harbors," I instruct, leaning closer to the tablet, studying the topographical map of the island Elena brought up on the secondary screen. "There is a dilapidated fishing port fifty kilometers west of Trapani. It is barely a blip on the radar, completely unmonitored by the Vitiello payroll because the water is too shallow for commercial freighters. Charter two disguised private yachts and anchor them three miles off the coast. Use the Zodiac inflatables to bring the men ashore under the cover of darkness. I have a contact on the ground who will leave three unmarked transport vans with the keys in the ignitions parked behind the abandoned cannery."