Desperation hit me like ravenous hunger. My mouth came crashing down on his, our lips colliding, our teeth clacking, the taste of blood, his or mine, like iron on my desperate tongue. I might have made the first move, buthewas kissingme—fully enough that my breath was lost to his mouth, but he was keeping me alive.
He had been moving us, and I only realized this when his arm crashed into one of the walls, absorbing most of the impact. But I wanted to feel it—needed to bleed and bruise, sacrifice myself for his needs and mine.
“Feriscimi,” I breathed, licking my lips, wanting more. My lip had split, and so had his. My legs tightened around his waist, constricting as hard as I could, spurring him to violence. It was there, lurking in the depths of his eyes—I had run from him.“Livido.”
His pulled back, eyes narrowed. I had asked him to hurt me, to bruise me. I needed to feel him in the depths of my bones. Before he could make up his mind, though, I made it up for the both of us.
Using my heels, I dug them into his hips, forcing his sweatpants to the ground. His erection sprang free, as hard as granite but as smooth as silk. Through my thin nightgown I could feel how hot he was, and I was surprised that the air around him didn’t steam. Though both of us gleamed with a coating of sheen from the humidity and sweat from the chase.
Easily stepping out of the pants, he kicked them to the side, using his teeth to tear through the fabric of the gown. His mouth came down after, his tongue licking at the trail of sweat on my skin before he took my nipple in his mouth and sucked.
A noise between a sharp intake of breath and a pleading moan escaped from my lips. My hands slid up his neck, my fingers entwining in his damp hair, and I pulled. The guttural growl from his throat made my heart beat even faster.
As soon as he released me, I squirmed to get down. To be able to touch, to kiss, to explore every inch of him, to taste the salt on his skin and breathe in his scent—something exclusively Brando Fausti, along with…what was it he had washed with tonight? The scent was woodsy—honey, cinnamon, bergamot, lemon, and tarragon—even patchouli and leather.
“You still have me,” I breathed out when he refused to let me go. “You’re here, that’s enough. That’s what I’d meant. I can’t get lost when you’re close. The light needs the darkness to shine.”
As soon as my feet hit the floor, my back hit the wall again, and he towered over me, a fierce fire burning in his eyes. One arm came up, fingers caressing the side of my face, before the arm became an iron bar—one on each side of my head, pinning me in place. A trembling hand—mine—reached down, and I pulled the torn nightgown up, over my head, and threw it over his pants.
A shiver tore through me, and like the nightgown, I felt one move from him would leave me tattered, unable to even breathe, all of me siphoned to all of him, just one of the many fabrics of this world, soaking in the light of the moon on an old wooden floor.
Staring at me, he licked his bottom lip, his tongue smearing the blood. He came in closer, and my eyes instinctually closed. He inhaled the length of my neck, and then moved his lip over mine, slow, oh so achingly slow, until my blood became his and his mine.
I used my cool, trembling hands to caress his sides, then, leaning to the side, I used my wet lip to glide down his skin, keeping my eyes up to see the look on his face. He hadn’t closed his eyes, not yet, but his skin was taut, and I could feel his shaking breaths every time he released one.
God. He was built like a warrior, one of those fighting beasts back in the day—a gladiator. A man willing to die for the cause his heart believed in, though he had no choice.
His sacrifice was for the honor of it all.
Venturing lower and lower, I kept my eyes locked on his. When I bit his thigh, he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. I took advantage of the moment—tasting salt on his skin, like I knew I would. The medley of scents clinging to his skin seemed to dance in the back of my nose, making me almost high on his essence alone.
The bold set of his face, prominent bones and sharp nose, heavy, dark eyebrows and wide mouth, his hair standing in all directions—making him the beast I knew he was to what he called my beauty—long lashes fanning against his cheeks…all set into a mask of aching pleasure.
Painful because he hated to be out of control.
Pleasure because I could make him lose control.
I’d gotten him to turn around, his back pressed against the wall, hands tangled in my hair.
I was bringing him to the edge. His thigh twitched underneath my hand, and the tremble of his bone seemed to shake my own. The connection between us was strong, and what went through him went through me.
In a rush, he hauled me up by my arms and spun me around. Breathless, I went to reach for him again, to cry out, but he silenced me with a punishing kiss and hands that took whatever the hell they wanted.
“You’re lucky.” He panted against the racing pulse in my neck. Lifting me up as though I weighed nothing more than a rag doll, he entered me with a thrust that sent a shock of pleasure and pain shooting through me. The weather had nothing on the wetness between my legs, but he was so…filling. A strangled noise came from my throat. “So fucking lucky,” he growled out.
At this pace, it wouldn’t be long before my body submitted to his without control. But I’d have what I’d asked for—his marks on my body, down to the marrow.
“Lucky?” I cried out, the echo of my voice reverberating around the small space. The moon was in my eyes, and I almost felt as though I was floating through some abyss full of alternate shocks of pleasure and pain. His touch was rough, his mouth even more so, and his thrusts were edging closer to unforgiving. “W-why?”
He slowed his movements, an ache left behind, echoing like the pleading sound of my voice. He stuck his nose in my neck, his teeth biting at the taut skin above my clavicle. “Remember the first time you brought me here, Ballerina Girl?”
The sound of his voice made me shiver. It sounded predatory, almost proprietary, but with a breathless edge that spoke the truth. His control was mine, as well as mine was his.
“You thought I thought of you as my little sister.” He barked out a laugh that startled me, almost scared me. The thrill of it only shot between my legs, though, causing me to respond to him even stronger. “Tell me you remember all of the lies you believed.”
“Ah…” I sighed.
He pulled out and then entered me, hard, sending the breath rushing out of my lungs. I tried to speak, but my voice came out strangled, and my nails sunk into his shoulders to steady myself.
