It doesn’t take long before his warm seed spills into me, our releases crashing together as a mangled cry leaves my lips, sending me into euphoria.
Spent, he collapses onto me, sweat-damp and gasping as we remain tangled in the glow of what we’ve just done.
Chapter one
Isabella
It’s Elena’s wedding day.
She’s getting married to the most dangerous man in New York. Hell, I wonder how she feels, waiting nervously in the bridal suite a few doors down.
I shake my head, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of my nose. No, she’s fine. Of course she’s fine. She has Dad and Melanie, our stepmother. Dad would fix her with a stern gaze and remind her that’s what her beauty is for, and she’s fulfilling her responsibility to his mafia.
And me? Just like every other time, I’m the extra. I should only be there when they need the world to make convenient comparisons.
Sometimes I think that’s why Elena forces me to some secret events with her. To be the backdrop against which she shines. After all, white looks more radiant against a black background.
I shut the book I’m reading as it’s doing nothing to keep the thoughts at bay. And it’s something I’ve come to realize. Books don’t shut out thoughts; they just give you prettier words to frame them with.
But it provides a means of escape, and that, more than anything, has been my solace.
Shaking my head, I let out a humorless chuckle. Jeez, I sound bitter.
But honestly, I’m not. I just…want it to end. It’s not my fault I was born with red hair and pale skin. Oh, and fucking poor eyesight, too.
It’s not my fault that I’m bound to whatever requests Elena bids me to make. Like the little escapade she had last night. No doubt it was supposed to be her last day of freedom before selling her soul to the mafia king. Getting married to a man as dangerous as Dominic could sure as hell mess with her mind.
And maybe that’s why I went last night—although it’s not like I had any choice—to support her, even if she never reciprocates it.
You would think that alienation means being unseen. But there’s a more accurate definition. It is being seen, just for the wrong reasons.
Letting out a slow exhale, I rise from the edge of the bed and make my way to the window. High-rise buildings and the distant hum of car engines fill my senses. The view is great, but I’d expect nothing less from a ridiculously expensive hotel right in the heart of New York.
Of course, it’s an alliance with the king. Everything has to be perfect.
The walls lightly cool my skin as I plop an elbow on the windowsill, stuffing my right cheek into my palm. I continue to follow the trail of traffic as cars flow and curve down the avenue.
Curve…
I bite my lips and clench my thighs, feeling heat creep up my neck.
My mind instantly trails down memory lane, relishing the pleasure and ecstasy from last night. The way his hands violently trailed every curve of my body like I was some sort of art, the way his lips latched onto my mound, sucking until I cried in ecstasy.
The way I held on to him, afraid that the night would end too fast.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my pussy tingling between my legs. He was even better than the men in my books.
God, the man was a monster. My legs still feel unsteady. I mean that kind of size deserves its own zip code.
It’s a pity I didn’t see his face though. Or maybe it’s a good thing. Because that kind of dick could leave a girldickmatized. Lord knows I’d cross all the oceans and seas just to relive that experience.
That’s why I’ve tried to suppress the thoughts since yesterday, because it’s something I’d probably never experience again.
I start to drown in my feelings again when the door suddenly slams open. I swivel my head, and my eyes widen as the hulking frame of my father comes into view.
His brows are furrowed into his signature frown, and his lips downturned into an expression of disgust. My stomach curls with dread, and my breathing turns ragged. His raging gaze holds mine for a flitting second before he begins to stalk toward me.
God. He’s angry. No, that doesn’t even cut it. He’s livid.
