Page 31 of Ruthless Grace

Through the gap in the connecting door, I hear the sudden, sharp shift of movement.

The mahogany door swings open three full feet.

Luca steps into the doorway.

He hasn’t changed. He still wears his dark, tailored suit trousers and his white dress shirt, but the tie is gone, his collar is torn open at his throat, and his dark hair is disheveled where his fingers have dragged through it.

He stands framed in the doorway, broad and looming: his dark eyes burning with a feral intensity that looks entirely ungrounded. Even from across the room, the smell of him invades the lamplight: cedarwood and gun oil cutting straight through my clean hospital soap.

He sees the wand in my hand. He sees the lamps blazing.

I don’t flinch. I don’t pull the sheets over my lap.

I climb back onto the mattress, prop my back comfortably against the soft velvet headboard, and pull my knees wide open, angling my body in full, direct line of sight of where he stands. I untie the belt of my dark silk robe, letting the fabric fall wide open over my hips, exposing my bare thighs, my midnight-silk lace, and my flushed, golden skin to the amber light.

I press the power button on the wand.

The motor turns on with a deep, low, electric hum that echoes through the quiet suite like a purring predator.

I slide my hand down, hook my index finger into the lace at my waist, and pull the silk completely to the side, exposing my swollen, dripping pussy to his gaze.

I hold the soft silicone head of the wand right over my clit.

The moment the high-frequency vibration hits my swollen nerve endings, my entire body jolts. A sharp, ragged gasp rips from my lips, echoing off the high ceilings. My hips lift off the silk, my inner thighs quivering as the intense, relentless pressure erases the agonizing ache Luca left behind.

I click the button twice, cranking the motor to its highest, most violent setting.

The hum turns into a steady, vibrating roar.

“Fuck,” I groan out loud, locking my eyes straight onto his.

Luca’s jaw clenches so hard I can hear the bone grind across the room. He takes one slow, heavy step out of the doorway, coming to a halt at the foot of the iron bed frame. He doesn’t say a word. He can’t. He looks like a man suffocating in open air.

Slowly, deliberately, Luca brings his right hand up to his mouth—the same hand he used to fuck me minutes ago.

He keeps his dark, possessive eyes locked on mine as he presses his long, scarred fingers to his lips. He licks his own knuckles, his tongue dragging over his skin, tasting my wet slick right in front of my face. His throat works as he swallows me down, his pupils blown so completely black that the dark iris has disappeared.

A hot, electric wave crashes straight down my spine.

I work the wand over my clit in tight, relentless circles, using two fingers of my free hand to push deep inside my own wet, tight pussy.

“Is this what you wanted, Valentino?” I murmur, my voice thick and dripping with unashamed defiance. “You wanted to see me squirm? Look at me.”

Luca lets out a low, guttural growl from the back of his chest.

His left hand goes to his waist. With two swift, violent twitches of his wrist, he unbuckles his leather belt and yanks his zipper down. He reaches inside his briefs and pulls out his dick.

He is stone-hard. A thick vein-ridged shaft, dark and throbbing, pre-cum glistening at the blunt tip.

Luca wraps his calloused palm around the base of his cock and begins stroking himself right at the foot of my bed.

He doesn’t rush. He pumps his hand up and down his shaft in long, brutal slides, his grip tight, his chest heaving under his open shirt as he watches my fingers slide in and out of my wet pussy while the wand grinds over my clit.

The sight of the Don of New Orleans, the ruthless, untouchable Luca Valentino, reduced to a ruined, panting spectator stroking his dick at the foot of my bed sends my mind completely over the edge.

He tried to control me. He tried to rule my body. And now he’s standing in my room, enslaved by his own eyes, pumping himself ragged just to watch me give myself what he couldn’t finish.

“Luca,” I moan, rolling my hips against the silicone, my inner walls clamping tight around my fingers.