Page 29 of Bene

He still heard them.

“How?”

She didn’t even have to think about it.

“Fuck me like you don’t care—make it worth it. Use me to get you off, it’ll get me off. Fuck me hard until I can’t breathe, and then fuck me even harder.”

His hand found her pony, wrapping it into his fist before he tugged her head back. His lips found her jawline, teeth sliding along her heated skin. “What, do you want to be my slut tonight?”

“God, yeah. So much.”

That was all he needed. He pulled her away from the wall without care or concern, and yanked her into the bedroom. Thing was, they didn’t even make it to the bed. He pushed her knees down to the white leather bench that rested against the foot of his four-poster metal framed bed covered in a black duvet that was now scattered with her clothes he’d pulled from her earlier.

“Hands on the footboard,” he demanded.

She raced to comply, hearing the tug of a zipper as a hand curved across her ass. His palm slapped down, surely leaving her pink and hot, but all she could do was moan. The shift of fabric echoed in the room, and the tear of foil.

Anticipation curled in her gut, hot and heavy, when he fitted in behind her. Her fingers curled tighter around the metal curve of the footboard when the blunt head of his cock pressed into her slit. He worked in slowly, at first, stretching her open with every short thrust, and letting her feel every single inch of his girth.

God.

He was thick.

And long, too.

She saw heaven when he finally filled her.

Vanna would swear on it.

His slowness only lasted as long as his control. And that only remained until she begged him over her shoulder to just fuck her. Then, he was really fucking her. Fast and deep and wild. Making the bed shudder, and then drawing out whine after whine from her when his hands curved around her throat, and drew her back as far as he could get her while he pounded into her.

“Jesus, you better make me fucking come, Vanna,” he uttered, voice husky behind her, “you better make me come when you milk me, babe.”

He held nothing back, and when that need of hers started to grow all over again, he fucked her even harder until her throat was raw, and all she could do was shake through yet another orgasm.

“Yes,” he praised, bending over her to taste her shoulder when he added, “now do it again for me.”

She didn’t know if she could.

He seemed determined to make her do it.

Best way she spent a night in a while.

Vanna slipped out of Bene’s bed when the sky gleamed black through the large floor-to-ceiling windows covering half of one wall. He didn’t stir as she climbed from the bed, plucking her crop top and thong from the floor to slip on quickly before she left the bedroom with her purse in hand.

She shot his sleeping form—shadowed in the moonlight and looking all too inviting in the bed—a glance before leaving the room. Without an idea as to what she needed to look for, or where to even look, she padded through the moderately sized penthouse. She didn’t have time to admire the state-of-the-art kitchen, or the decor of the living room, although both seemed nice enough as she passed.

Instead, she needed to find something to use. Something in this man’s home that was attached to the criminal side of his life—his Guzzi blood. He was a Guzzi son. One of many heirs to an entire criminal empire. His father was a Cosa Nostra Don. No one would tell Vanna that Bene wasn’t somehow involved or connected to the mob.

It was in his blood.

His purpose.

Like she was Camorra.

There was no out from this life.

Surely, she would find something that she could use to fulfill the vendetta … or get a start on something even bigger. She wouldn’t know if she didn’t look, however. That was her purpose for being here, after all. Even if her body just wanted to be used by that man again.