Page 25 of And Twice as Twisted (Agostino Crime Family #4)

One moment I felt her pushing me away, the next she clawed for me to get closer. I stopped above her, my lip still bleeding and my neck littered with scratches.

“Fuck me,” she commanded again, throwing her head back as I filled her with one hard thrust of my hips. “Shit!”

I didn’t relent. My pace only quickened as the painful truth dissolved between us.

Slowly, my soul lightened, pulling back from its internal disruption of agony.

I licked a tear from under her eye and she moaned as I thrusted harder, my breath coming out in short pants.

My muscles tensed as the strongest orgasm settled into the distance and I ran full steam towards it.

She scratched, moaned, and begged as I ripped orgasm after orgasm from her body. I kept up a relentless pace, surging all my agitation into each thrust. Punishing her. Pleasuring her was my way of showing her how much I cared. It was my version of giving her something back after all I’d taken.

I told her small truths, but the most deceptive lies were the ones she created in her head.

She blamed me for the brutal honesty of what I wasn’t capable of.

She despised the fact that the truth wasn’t what she wanted—something she couldn’t control.

I was her protector, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough.

For either of us.

She curled up on her side, putting as much space between us as physically possible. The distance didn’t matter. This push and pull was relentless. And I’d come to the realization that this only ended one way.

With one of us dead.

I left her in bed, her toned ass peeking out from under the covers as she lay on her stomach. My dick hardened at the promise of being buried inside her one more time. Instead, I slid into my pants and closed the door quietly behind me. I needed to make a call to confirm it was safe to come back.

“Where is she?” Alexei answered on the first ring. Once I told him she was fine, he quickly turned the conversation on its heel.

“Let me correct you. One, her passion is merely lust, a chemical buildup in the brain. Two, her irrational anger had her turning her back on her own family, branding herself a traitor.”

“That’s what you think?” Her pained voice sounded behind me. “That I’m so far gone that I’d allow my anger towards my family to make me a traitor?”

I stood up to look at her, admiring her in my black shirt. “A traitor is a noun. A person who betrays another.” The silence stretched between us. “You betrayed the family for a crooked crown granted to you by our enemy. It’s a factually based assessment, Sienna.”

“Take me home,” she demanded, turning before twirling back around and yelling, “Gio was released because John was protecting Persephone. I have everything they need to take him down.” She tapped her necklace and pivoted on her heel, disappearing inside the cabin.

“You idiot,” Alexei muttered. “The FBI’s too close. She didn’t want to see any of you behind bars, so she set him up. She recorded his fucking confession, jackass.” He hung up on me.

Fuck, how had I gotten that wrong?

The car ride was filled with an ominous silence but also riddled with a sexual persistence that forced me to steal glances of her. Her quietude was disconcerting and, without words, I could already tell her mind was actualizing a plan—one that would no doubt end with chaos.

“I’m not a traitor.” She was staring out the window as she spoke. “Persephone wouldn’t have made it through a trial. I did what I had to do.” She tapped her pendant again, stroking the chain with nimble fingers.

She’d set him up. When we charged into the room, she’d already been holding him at gunpoint. She played him at his own game and came out the winner.

This woman. She was both heaven and hell, effectuating a cataclysmic ending, and my only solace was the promise of her trembling beneath me.

I wanted another taste, craved it. We pulled onto the highway, heading back to the city, but my thoughts were pillaged by images of her naked and moaning beneath me.

My breath quickened, needing her to look at me.

I wanted one of her hidden smiles. The most simplistic glance before I drove her wild and ravaged her tight body.

I wanted her to moan my name and accept the cruelty I needed to enact on every inch of her skin.

“Pull over.”

I glanced up, realizing she’d been staring at me.

“And fuck me.”

I gripped the wheel tighter, threatening to rip it from the dashboard, as my mind was dislodged into a tailspin.

“Apollo.” It was whispered, a plea. “Apollo!” she screamed.

“Shit!” I snapped out of it, jerking the wheel to avoid a truck merging onto the highway.

Once the car was righted, I looked at her again.

She was glaring at me, her whispered moans a figment of my imagination.

These strange recurring episodes were telltale signs of a disorder.

Maladaptive daydreaming. In layman’s terms, intense moments where a subject became highly distracted and would stop engaging with reality.

They became hyperfocused on whatever was in their mind, forging out their physical presence.

It was a psychiatric condition often triggered by real-life events.

For example, Gio-fucking-Moretti. Another, Sienna-fucking-Agostino.

His exit from prison was due to plausible deniability. He was laying waste on the Agostino family, simply because he wanted things that didn’t belong to him. Like Sienna.

“What?” Sienna’s question forced my attention to her. “What’s yours ?”

“I didn’t say anything.” I stared back at the road, my heart rate increasing.

“You haven’t shut up the entire ride home. You’ve been mumbling for the last hour.” She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to how the material of her shirt—my shirt—pulled tight with the action.

“I didn’t say anything,” I repeated, my nose twitching as I fought to maintain sight of the road.

“Did you have a problem sharing toys as a kid? Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine,” she mocked, her snarky tone drawing the dark presence within me to the surface.

“Sienna. Stop.” I barely recognized my own voice, my hands shaking as I clenched the wheel.

“ Sienna. Stop. ” She continued her parroted indignation. “ Mine. Mine. Mine. God, you’re an asshole.”

A chill settled inside the car, my hands shaking and my mind racing as I fought with myself to leave her unscathed. She was dancing with fatality, unimmune to the savage depravity that lurked in my soul and seeped free from my pores.

I already told her once. If she wanted him, she got him.