Page 69 of Savage Ambition

“You taste so fucking sweet.” The sharp points of his canines pressed into me, a threat and a promise combined.

The forbidden nature of what he was daring to do only heightened my arousal. No one left marks on me without paying exorbitant fees for the privilege. It was a rule as immutable as gravity in the Gennaro empire.

He stayed like that for several seconds, letting me anticipate what was coming. When I didn’t push him away, he took it as permission. His teeth sank into my flesh until my skin yielded.

Pain radiated outward, sharp and immediate before transforming into something else as he sucked hard enough to break capillaries. I arched off the bed, a strangled sound escaping me, knowing a hickey would form there soon. My cock twitched against my stomach, precum beading at the tip from the exquisite mix of forbidden pleasure and pain. I tightened my fingers in his hair, unable to shove him away.

The pressure increased until I felt the precise moment his teeth broke through my skin. I cried out in a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief.

He soothed the abused flesh with his tongue. He looked up at me, his lips wet, eyes dark, and a smear of red where he’d drawn blood.

“Now, you’ll think of me whenever you move,” he said, pressing a kiss to the mark. His tongue lapped at the small spots of blood.

My mind already worked on formulating an excuse to Salvatore if he reviewed the footage and discovered Renato broke the rules. Since the judge requested possession, dominance, and ownership, I could claim the bite was a theatrical part of the performance. It was a lie, but at least a plausible one.

Renato rose from between my legs, his cock standing proud against his taut stomach. He reached for a condom from the bedside table, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. He held my gaze as he rolled it down his length.

“Spread wider for me,” he commanded. “I want to see all of you.”

My knees fell farther apart to welcome him.

Renato put on a show of slowly pushing them even wider to make more room for him. He slid his hands up from my knees to my inner thighs. When his thumb brushed against the bite, I couldn’t suppress a shiver. He noticed, of course. Nothing escaped his attention with pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, Dragon?” he asked, one hand wrapping around his cock to guide it toward my entrance. The head pressed against me, hot and insistent, but not yet breaching.

I attempted to sound bored despite the anticipation coiling in my gut. “You know I am.” I’d prepared myself earlier, knowing we’d be performing together for the judge who always wanted me to bottom. “Stop stalling.”

His smile was pure sin. “So impatient.” He circled my hole with the tip of his cock, applying enough pressure to tease but not enter. “But I want to savor this as I fill you inch by inch.”

The maddening pleasure of being filled was a temptation that had me fighting the urge to grab his hips and force him all the way in.

Before I could tell him to stop torturing me, he withdrew almost completely before driving back in. His powerful thrusts shifted me up the bed and made the bite mark throb. My body clenched around him, drawing him deeper.

He groaned, his hands moving to grip my thighs, spreading them wider than necessary. His right thumb pressed against the fresh wound, sending another jolt of painful pleasure straight to my cock as he established a rhythm of deep, measured strokes.

“Feel that?” Renato asked, grinding against me. “That’s me reminding you who’s inside you right now.” He pulled back and slammed forward again.

With each thrust, he played with the stinging sensation, his fingers alternating between gentle caresses and firm presses against the mark. The pain kept me from slipping into the dissociative state I normally relied on during sex, forcing me to remain present. My cock leaked between us, untouched but harder than I could remember being with any other partner.

The assault of sensations pushed me toward the edge faster than I wanted. My mind usually stayed clinical during my performances, cataloging reactions and responses like a scientist observing an experiment. But Renato made that impossible. Each time his thumb pressed into the bite, my thoughts scattered. I responded not as Dragon the professional, but as myself.

His expertise was undeniable. Every thrust hit where I needed it, proving he’d mastered the art of ruining men. It was a performance worthy of the Gennaro Corporation’s second top earner.

I recognized the techniques because they were ones I employed myself. The calculated escalation, the careful observation of responses, the exploitation of weaknesses discovered. But knowing the mechanics didn’t diminish their effectiveness.

“You’re overthinking again,” Renato murmured, slowing his pace to a torturous grind. “I can see you analyzing everything. Focus on me.”

He punctuated the order with a sharp thrust that made me gasp. His hand found the bite mark, sending a bolt of pained pleasure straight to my balls. My back arched, pressing my neglected cock against his stomach.

The friction was maddening, not enough to push me over but enough to keep me teetering on the edge. I moved against him with blind need, seeking more contact.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Show me what you want.”

The request was dangerous. Showing genuine desire in the brothel was like bleeding into shark-infested waters. Salvatore patrolled the depths with cold, dead eyes, his senses tuned to detect the slightest hint of vulnerability.

I grabbed his ass, pulling him deeper, setting a faster pace that had us both panting. He matched my urgency, driving into me with renewed vigor. His hand never left my thigh, fingers digging into the bruised flesh.

“Come for me.” He gripped the mark hard enough to make it hurt. “Let me see what you look like when you’re truly mine.”