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“So you sold me down the fucking river without a second thought.” I push her away, but she comes at me again, standing too close. Her scent fills my nostrils, confusing my body. Because when she’s near all I can think about is having her. Fucking her mercilessly, like she’s my only salvation.
“Yes. I hated you at first, I had no loyalty to the man who called me a ‘convenient wet hole.’ Taking my uncle down is all I’ve lived for,” she continues, sobbing. “All I’ve cared about for years, and then you came along and ruined everything.”
She slaps me across the face. Hard. As if all of this is my fault. And maybe it is. But I refuse to apologize for any of it. Even if it brought me to this moment, where nothing makes sense and it hurts, everything fucking hurts.
A cocktail of emotions churns in my stomach, but I know without a doubt this is our last time together, and I need to have her right fucking now. There’s no logic to it, I’m a man possessed, but I’m not the only one feeling this magnetic pull. Bianca’s eyes are dark pools of desire.
Without further thought, I have her lifted and in my arms as my teeth sink into her swollen bottom lip. “I want you to bleed for me,” I tell her, “and I’m going to lap up every drop.”
She hisses as my tongue sweeps across her bleeding lip. I should slit her throat right now and be done with it, but my dick has other ideas. He always has other ideas when it comes to her.
I drag her to the small table in the center of the room and, with a hand shoved between her shoulder blades, push her down until she’s flattened across its surface. I’m so hard for her, and her little moans tell me how much she wants this, too. Pinning her in place with one hand, I lift her nightgown, exposing her ass to me.
“You’re wet for me, Bianca,” I gasp, running a finger up and down her slit. “Is that a lie, too?”
The moment my cock is released from its confinement, I seek her warm cunt, and white-hot need electrifies every nerve ending as I bury myself deep inside her.
“That was never a lie,” she gasps, peeking up at me through her veil of hair. But I can’t stand to look at her, so I pummel her without mercy, satisfied when her eyes squeeze shut and she cries out every time my pelvis crashes into her ass.
The way her hot pussy clamps down on my cock is enough to make me explode inside of her, but I will myself to hold off. I’m not ready to let her off the hook yet.
“I’ll never forgive you.” I pull her head around, and spit into her open mouth. “Never.”
“Fine,” she gasps. “Just help me. Help me get revenge against my uncle. Help me destroy him, burn his cartel to the ground. Then you can kill me.” My hips snap harder into her as she talks about her own demise. I’m the only one allowed to conjure her death. Not her.
“Why?” I roar. “Why should I do anything for you?”
“Because I fucking love you, can’t you see that? I couldn’t go through with it. I was going to tell you everything.”
I stop thrusting and pull her up by her hair while I remain jammed to the hilt inside of her.Fucking love.As if I’d fall for the oldest trick in the book.
A response is beyond me right now. I’m lost in the heat of her tight pussy and her perfect flesh, but I can’t give in to her. Not yet. I come at her like a wolf unleashed on its prey, using her for my own twisted needs, a slut just for me.
She takes it. Because I have the power here and she knows it, but that doesn’t help make any of this better.
No, it makes it so much worse.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
BIANCA
“Because I fucking love you,can’t you see that?”
My confession echoes through my mind. Daniil might not believe me, but it’s the truth. It might be the most real thing I’ve ever said to him.
I love him, but he’s going to kill me.
Daniil’s large hand presses down on my back, rendering me immobile, while his other hand squeezes my hip. His grip verges on pain, but I crave the hurt, welcome it as a distraction from the storm raging on the inside.
“I trusted you,” he spits. “You’ve ruined me. You’ve ruined everything.” His chest slams into my back, and he snakes an arm around my waist, pounding into me with a relentless pace. He wants my misery, he wants to see me suffer, because that’s all the punishment he’s capable of doling out. But this is far from torture. This is everything I didn’t know I needed. Because it’s keeping me from thinking about the gaping hole in my chest where my heart once was.
Without warning, he pulls out of me and turns me so I’m facing him. With two hands, he lifts me onto the laminate surface. My ass nearly hangs off the very edge as my legs wrap around his waist. My only support comes from my two hands propped behind me.
And then he reaches out and rips the necklace with his initials from my neck, throwing it onto the floor. Devastation lances up my spine, clamping around my throat. The message is clear. I’m no longer his.
He slams into me again and again, thrusting so hard I’m sure the folding table we’re fucking on is going to break with the force of his emotion. But it doesn’t scare me. Pleasure blazes a path throughout my body, and I hate myself for responding to him so easily. Even after he punished me—humiliated me—I still crave everything he has to give me.
His eyes grow molten, and even before the words are out of his mouth, I know what he’s about to say is going to rip me apart and leave me in tatters. “I would have done anything for you,” he rasps.
