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“Fine, but, Luca, if you don’t give me something to do to help, I’m going to end up right where I was last night. Now that I’m back here, I can’t just sit around and wait. I can’t sit on my hands like a good girl and let the men handle things for me while—“
His grip tightens in my hair. “Do you have a fucking death wish? People are after you, Carina! You’re lucky to be alive!”
“Finding Francis’s killer is worth the risk!”
He pushes me tightly against the wall, his grip sliding until it brackets my throat. “No, it isn’t! Francis is dead, and you’re alive, and you’ll damn well stay that way if I have anything to do with it.”
“Luca—“
I’m not afraid of his anger. I never have been. As violent and as cruel as Luca can be to his enemies, he has never laid a hand on me. And as far as emotions go, anger is one of the most genuine I’ve seen from him yet, with the possible exception of his lust.
“Just shut up, Carina.” As if he read my mind, his mouth comes down on mine suddenly, hard and bruising. “You talk too fucking much.”
His hands slide to the neckline of my camisole, and I realize he has produced a pocket knife from somewhere when he flicks it open and draws the dull edge along my collarbone. His expression when he pulls back from his kiss is cold and impossible to read.
I shiver. He needs to punish me today, it seems. He always liked knives when I had done something to piss him off.
Placing the knife at the vee of my top, Luca slices a notch in the neckline. Drawing back, he places the knife between his teeth and tears the shirt from neck to hem, baring me to the chilly air. Then he slices the center point of my bra.
“That was a perfectly good shirt and bra, thank you very much,” I rasp, my shaking hands dropping to unbutton my pants.
He palms the knife and helps me push them to the floor. His own follow, getting caught somewhere around his hips. “Now they’re perfectly good rags,” he returns.
Reaching down, he strokes the cold steel handle of the knife through the seam of my pussy, then hitches me up until I wrap my legs around his waist and my breasts are level with his face. Pushing me tight to the wall, he nuzzles in between my tits, then bites an open-mouthed kiss around one areola before sucking hard. A shaft of pleasure spears through me, arrowing straight to my pussy. Groaning, I clasp his head to me and hold on tight.
“My God, Luca. I’m still so pissed at you—“
His hands curl around the base of my ass cheeks, his long fingers spreading me wide and stroking through the wetness pooling between my legs. “You’re also dripping.”
“I want you.” His cock is hard and ready at the notch of my pussy, and I reach down to wrap my hand around the base. He hisses at the contact, pulling back from my breast to watch, and I slowly stroke my hand up and down his length, brushing my thumb over the broad head.
“God, my pretty, wild one. What you do to me…”
It’s mutual, and it’s terrifying.
That’s my last thought before, expression solemn, he leans forward and captures my mouth with his, lifting me up and fitting our bodies together in one powerful slide. The breath stutters out of me when he’s fully seated within me. He bottoms out from this position, and for a moment, we’re still, his forehead against mine, our mouths barely connected, our bodies pulsing together. The knife is cold against my hip, where he clutches it in his hand, reluctant for some reason to let it go.
Then, using the wall and his hands on my hips to anchor me in place, he pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in.
Out.
In.
Our tongues meet and tangle in an echo of the plunge of Luca’s cock upward and into me. I can go nowhere, move nowhere, as he pins me in place and fucks me. He moves one hand to put the knife to my throat and plunders my pussy with a brutal, violent passion, punctuating each thrust with a word and the edge of the blade.
“You’re…not…to…put…yourself…in…danger.”
“But—”
The blade presses tighter, and another, harder slam steals my breath and renders me silent. “Do you understand?”
I can’t agree to that. I can’t say I understand, not when I know it’s a lie, and I’ll do what I have to do to find those responsible for Francis’s death. I remain stubbornly silent.
Adjusting one hand to beneath my ass, he moves the thumb of the one holding the blade to my clit and presses, circling until sensation curls through me. His hold is awkward, the blade horizontal to my belly, and it brushes against my skin with each flex of his thumb against my nub.
“Say it.”
The feeling tightens in concert with each punch of his cock, my climax hovering at the crest of a sweet, vicious wave. I close my eyes, my head falling back against the wall. It’s right there, just out of reach.
