My fingers find me drenched when I reach my pussy and I inhale sharply. I’ve never been this wet. I circle my clit asroughly as I can, my eyes closing of their own accord. The image behind my eyelids is of the man with his helmet.
His massive body covers mine, large hands touching, caressing, with a hint of possessiveness and dark edges. I’m not in control of my body. He paws at me, and I let him, overcome with lust for this man I don’t know.
I moan loudly, loving the way he can’t seem to stop himself. His jeans are rough against my heated flesh and no matter how much I want to touch him, he keeps me at bay, a hand around my throat. He reaches for my wrists and pins them above my head, then releasing my neck and entering me with three thick fingers. I yelp at the intrusion but love how dirty it makes me feel.
Immobilised, I can’t do anything but take what he gives me, no matter how much I plead. And plead, I do. I want his cock inside me, I want to be wrecked for all others. If he can beat a man for threatening me, who knows what else he would do for me and maybe that’s the level of devotion I’ve always yearned for. Someone who makes me their priority no matter how ugly I cry, how harsh the marks on my thighs, how twisted my past and my family. This man doesn’t want me for my father or the Cosa Nostra, but forme.
“Come for me, little rose,” he rasps in my fantasy, and I soar.
My pussy clenches around my fingers, clit swollen under my palm, my body racked with pleasure until I lay limp on the bed. It goes on for a long time.
I come harder than I ever had. All while thinking about a dangerous man whose face I don’t even know. Before sleep claims me, in my fantasy, my masked stranger raises the visor of his helmet. Two familiar, darkened brown eyes meet mine, lines forming at the edges with amusement. Before I can recognise who they belong to, I’m already asleep.
TEN
TOMA
Lucie Ventura is going to be mine.
There’s no other way.
Because now that I know what she looked up online last night after our encounter, I can’t let her go. It’s selfish, but I don’t care.
This will work. Like everything else, I’ll take it a day at a time, and protect her with my life. Not much different than what I already did, except I’m about to know what she tastes like when I kiss her, what she sounds like when I make her come and how broken her voice can be after I make her scream for me. All on her own terms. She’s going to walk into my trap and thank me for it.
She’ll be craving me likeIcrave her.
But first, I have to get rid of the incompetent fucks serving as bodyguards.
I don’t know how she did it, but Lucie must have drugged them, for them to miss how she sneaked away. They don’t deserve to be called a protection detail and certainly not to live after such failure.
If I hadn’t been here, the man I stopped last night could have hurt my little rose. He was about to take what was not offered. I saw him in the shadows. Then, I saw him again whenhe moved on to another target. He reminded me of Petar, taking from innocent people, with no consideration for anyone but his twisted pleasure. He deserved to die.
Andshecalled a cleaning crew. Not an ambulance or the police or even for help. She helped me clean up my mess, like the born and bred mafia queen she is. Lucie says she wants out of this life, but she’s deluded. She can’t escape me and certainly not her fate. Her moral compass is too tarnished already.
I smile at that. Imagining my girl blood-thirsty and vengeful is a heady combo, going straight to my head, an image of mayhem in our wake sending a thrill through me. God, we’d be fucking fire together. My cock twitches and I adjust myself, groaning when I squeeze it hard through my pants.
Dante might have an aneurysm if I don’t tell him what I’m about to do first. He loves to cling to the illusion of power, that one, even though it’s his wife who deals with most of mafia business nowadays. I can’t blame him. I know what it’s like to be made to feel insignificant, powerless and desperate.
I dial his number.
“Tell me they’re fucking dead,” he says as a greeting. We both know who he’s referring to. He must know I’ve been here since the school year started. I’m not the only hacker and tracker on his team after all.
“Hello to you to, asshole.”
“Don’t play dumb, Kovac. If you’re calling me at seven am on a Saturday morning after not showing up here for weeks, have the decency to own up to your shit. Are you in Edinburgh?”
I roll my tongue over my teeth, a slow smile spreading on my cheeks. I’m not much of a strategist, playing games and lying have never been very high on my repertoire of skills. I choose to ignore his question and ask him one of my own. “Do you really want them dead?”
“They failed a mission. One of the most important fucking missions I could ever give soldiers. The sentence is their lives. Shoot them through the head and bury them in the Meadows for all I care, they’re done.”
Dante Ventura is a man who’s always surprised me. When I first came to London, he welcomed me with open arms and a mouth full of jokes. This side of him is a reminder to never underestimate him, or his love for Lucie.
“It’ll be done. Are you going to send someone else?”
We both know it’s unnecessary, but again, it’s more of a political question than a real one. No matter how many men he sends to watch over his cousin, Lucie’s mine to protect and he knows it.
“Since you’re there already, and you probably follow her like a dog, make sure she’s safe.”
