Page 55 of Brutal Heir

Pressing his front to my back, he wrapped his arms around me and cupped my breasts. “Questo è proprio il punto, bella.”

Oh God. Something told me he hadn’t just gracefully agreed to pull out like a gentleman.

“Sebastian? What did you just⁠—”

He leaned back and spanked my ass. “Say my name again.”

When I didn’t immediately comply, he spanked the other ass cheek. My wet skin made the burn that much more intense, increasing the taboo pleasure of it all.

I wasn’t his lover.

I was his conquest.

His possession.

When I screamed his name, he answered with a growl, spilling into me like he’d won.

And in the silence after, a cold truth settled deep in my bones:

Even with all my protests…I’d walked straight into his trap.

CHAPTER 15

SABRINA

Left alone, I wrapped my arms around my knees and curled into a ball on the tile floor.

As the hot water continued to rain down on me, I tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

How was it possible to feel both alive and yet dead inside?

That had been the most bone-jarringly intense sexual experience of my entire life.

The man fucked with what could only be called primal energy. The way he just arrogantly manhandled and dominated me into submission was…

I didn’t know what it was…but I’d definitely never been treated like that before. He had managed to both worship me and humiliate me all at once.

I’d been shattered into a million pieces, put together, and then shattered again.

I tightened my arms around my knees as I tilted my head back to let the water stream over my face.

He was inside of me right now.

Admittedly, the sum total of my sexual experience until this point had been extremely limited by most standards. Only a good-natured but inept high school boyfriend and a rather selfish college one. Neither of whom had ever come inside of me. I’d always been careful about condoms.

Oh God, we didn’t use a condom.

I stretched my legs out and ran a hand over my belly.

Bearing Sebastian Diamanti’s child would be like getting knocked up by freaking Zeus. Those Greek myths never seemed to end well for the poor mortal woman.

I had to leave before this man consumed me entirely.

I knew my limitations. I wasn’t one of those savvy women who could turn this connection into a career-launching opportunity. I needed to remember—I was Michael Corleone’s dead first wife. Not all women were the heroines of their own epic stories.

God, I hated being this way. I hated the truth of it.

I rested my chin on my knees. There was no denying it was my mother’s influence. Always telling me to blend in, to not make waves, to trust no one.