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His thick fingers glide out of me and then drag up my lips to my swollen clit. I whimper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other white knuckling the edge of the bar as Damiano’s big fingers roll over my clit in slow, slippery circles.

His other hand reaches behind me, and suddenly, I whimper a bit louder as he wraps a handful of my dark locks around his fist and yanks, hard.

“Look at me, Bella,” Damiano rasps quietly as he leans close, his scent and his warm breath inches from my parted lips. “You want me to take away your control, little nightmare?” he growls. “You have no fucking idea what you just asked.”

A broken whine chokes from my throat as his fingers sink back into me. Heat floods my face as I hear the wet sounds of my arousal and my blood coating his fingers as they plunge in and out of me.

He strokes the pads of his fingers inside me like he’s beckoning me, dragging a guttural, animal sound from my throat as my core melts. My nipples tighten in my top as I cling to his rippling forearm, my face caving.

Damiano’s fingers glide out of me again, leaving me feeling desperate and empty. Then I watch him raise those blood-soaked fingers to his mouth and growl as he savagely licks them clean.

For an insane second, all I can do is stare.

At his mouth.

At the smear of red across his bottom lip.

At the utterly unapologetic, deeply unhinged look in his eyes.

Holy shit.

I knew Damiano was “like me”. But I figured even though we both craved the hunt, and the rush of a kill, I was probably miles past him on the crazy scale.

In that moment, the madness in me sees the equal madness in him.

For the first time in my life, I see me staring right back. And that ignites the savage, fucked-up part of me, making it grin and whisper Oh. There you are.

“You—oooohh…” A soft, broken sound tumbles from my lips as his hand slides back between my thighs and his fingers sink back into me. Sharpness glints in his eyes as they stay locked with mine, his forearm rippling as he strokes his thick fingers in and out of my tight, squeezing pussy.

I whimper when he slides them out again, brings his hand up, and looks me right in the eye.

He pauses.

…and slowly extends his hand to me.

“Open.”

And fuck me… I do.

In the dark, candlelit shadows of the corner of the bar, I keep my gaze on him as I drop my lower lip, my entire body keyed up and tingling.

His finger slides into my mouth, and my lips close around it.

Oh fuck…

Just as I do so, his other hand drops from my hair and slips between my spread legs, dipping under my skirt, tugging my soaked panties aside, and sinking two big fingers into me. I whimper around his finger, tasting the coppery, sticky blood. A moan hums in my chest as Damiano starts to thrust his fingers harder and deeper, curling them against that spot inside as he gently fucks my mouth.

Slowly, I start to come apart at the seams.

Not in a soft, romantic way where everything inside me melts and goes hazy.

This feels like being ripped apart.

Smashed to pieces.

Like every ugly instinct and fucked-up craving I usually keep shoved into a dark room is suddenly spilling free.

Damiano isn’t just keeping up with my crazy.