Page 31 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

MAX

Stop.

Don’t react.

Put a fucking leash on those thoughts. We don’t need a mafia war to start tonight.

Taking a deep breath, I eased my hand off my gun, focusing on a specific spot on the opposite wall as that fucker had the nerve to flirt and ask my angel out for dinner. I took the hit with my jaw clenched, bending my thumb as hard as it went without breaking to keep my focus elsewhere.

But then she stood, strutted right past me, and fucking smirked.

She knew damn well what she was doing, and in that taunting smile, I saw her bloody fangs, dripping after sinking her teeth so deep into my restraint that I’d be feeling her for the whole damn night.

It was only fair that I’d repay her in kind, right?

I counted down from ten, pausing between each number to drag in deep breaths and steady myself. Long enough not to look obvious. Not long enough to stop the inevitable.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

My Angel’s about to fall from Heaven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

She’d knocked on the devil’s door.

Three.

Two.

One.

No prayers to whisper. No saints to come.

Zero. I’m coming.

No mercy left. Nowhere to run.

Before I knew it, I was pushing the door to the lady’s room open. Alison stood by the mirror, pretending to fix her makeup, but there was no hiding the glint in her eyes as she locked her gaze onto mine through the reflection.

It was the glee of victory, and while I loved to see her smile, I craved to leave her panting more. At least right now.

There was punishment in need of being delivered, and I was more than happy to assume the role of the executioner.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she said, her voice low but oh so fucking tempting.

I took two slow steps toward her, the echo of my shoes sounding ominous, like I was stalking my prey. If she was prey, she sure as fuck didn’t know it, because no one goes down with a smile so glorious on their face.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to follow you.”

“You looked like you needed a break from brooding.”

I didn’t stop walking until we were breath to breath.

“You looked like you needed someone to remind you this isn’t a fucking game.”

She arched a single brow, her sass coming off her in waves even with her pretty little mouth shut. “Are you going to remind me, Maxy Max?”

Fuck.

I could smell the wine on her lips just as much as the deviousness of her intentions. The soft hint of her perfume. The damn pulse in her neck fluttering like a dare. All of it calling to me in a soft goad that I had no strength to ignore.

“You think you’re clever,” I growled, my voice low enough to burn in my throat. “Letting another man talk to you, touch you like you’re free for the taking?”

“Maybe I wanted to be taken.”

“Don’t test me.”

Her breath hitched a fraction at the dire tone of my voice, and damn me if my cock didn’t throb in my pants.

“If you’re standing here, seething as you are, I think it worked just as intended.”

I slammed my hands against the marble on either side of her, caging her in without touching her, the mirror trembling behind her with the sheer force.

“You wanted me jealous,” I growled. “So now you’re going to watch what that costs you.”

Her chin tilted up, defiant as always, while her body arched slightly into mine, craving my touch as much as I craved to touch her.

“Oh! I’m soooo scared,” She sang in a whisper right against my ear, in a voice made to snap my last feeble remnant of control.

When she pulled back, her smile was wild, slow but fucking lethal, knowing that her proverbial knife was so deeply plunged into my chest that my lungs wheezed her name each time I took a damn breath.

I stared at her for a second. This impossible woman who’d become my obsession, my destruction, and my goddamn salvation, and if I still had an ounce of resolve, it broke right then and there.

I didn’t kiss her.

I devoured her.

One hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back while my mouth crashed onto hers like a war I’d already lost. Her fingers fisted my shirt, pulling me closer, moaning into my mouth like she wanted the ruin I promised her.

She tasted like fury and heaven.

Like vengeance wrapped in silk.

Like a reality fucking punch to the gut.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it Maxy Max?” She thought she’d won, but she was about to find out how much revenge stung.

I didn’t answer her.

I just grabbed her throat, pinning her back against the marble counter with one hand while the other yanked her tight little panties down her thighs, tearing the delicate fabric in the process.

She gasped, but it wasn’t fear, I saw that much in her eyes. It was excitement.

Fucking filthy little angel.

“You think you can play me?” I snarled low, feeling her pulse hammering under my fingers. “You think you can make me jealous and just walk away?”

She opened her mouth, maybe to sass me again, but I didn’t let her.

I spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold marble of the vanity, forcing her back to arch just the way I needed. Alison released a startled, breathless moan that shot straight to my cock.

I shoved her ruined panties into my pocket before gliding my fingers across her pussy.

Soaked.

Alison was completely wet.

“Tell me this is for me,” I growled, the image of her getting worked up like this for that fucker taking my rage to a whole new level. “Tell me you weren’t like this out there.”

Her breath came in sharp little gasps, the intensity in my tone catching her off guard.

Before she could say a single word, I yanked my belt open with a snap so sharp it echoed around the tiled walls like the promise of what was to come.

“You're mine,” I growled, lining myself up against her soaked, glistening pussy, dragging my cock over her pussy but not giving her what she wanted. “Say it.”

Alison was trembling, her hands braced flat on the counter, but her voice was still fucking defiant. “No.”

That was not the answer I was after.

I thrust into her in one savage, punishing stroke.

She cried out, a broken sound that made my balls tighten and my craving for her undoing increase tenfold.

“Mine,” I snarled against her ear, pulling back slowly just to slam into her again, harder and deeper, knocking the breath right out of her. She was mine until that fucker put a gold band on her finger, and not a damn minute less.

Every thrust made the mirror rattle as Alison braced herself with a hand on it. Every thrust knocked her forward, and every time she tried to push back for more, I grabbed her hips tighter and slowed just enough to drive her crazy.

“You wanted to be taken, Angel?” I breathed, my voice pure gravel. “Here’s your fucking wish granted.”

I buried myself to the hilt, grinding against her soaked, clenching pussy, but never letting her have the rhythm she craved. Never giving her the friction she needed to finally come.

“You’re going to feel me for the rest of this damn dinner,” I whispered against her neck, sliding my hand around her and between her legs.

I pressed a finger to her clit, drawing slow, cruel circles. Just enough pressure to make her whimper and brace herself against the mirror.

Then, nothing.

Again. Another stroke. Another moan.

Then I stopped.

Again.

And again.

Until she was trembling and panting, trying to roll her hips into me to chase her release.

“You want to play? Then beg like the brat you are,” I muttered, voice low and dangerous.

“I…Max, please,” she gasped. “I need…”

I withdrew my hand completely and watched her collapse against the counter with a strangled moan, her head dropping forward while her fist slammed into the mirror. I could feel her frustration as if it were a living thing trying to rake its nails down my determination.

“You know how to beg a lot better than that. You’re gonna need to try harder.”

Then I slammed into her and ground just as she liked.

She cried out, half moan, half relief, and I gripped her hips, holding her right there while I fucked her deep and slow, each thrust a deliberate punishment. She was so fucking wet it drove me insane.

“You let him flirt with you,” I hissed between thrusts. “You smiled at him.”

“Max! Oh God!”

“He touched you.”

“I wanted you to–”

“This is what you get when you play with a monster, Alison.”

I drove into her harder, hitting deep, feeling her walls flutter around me, desperate to let go. But I wasn’t done. Not until she was wrung out. Not until she knew.

I reached around and rubbed her clit again. Once, twice, then stopped just before she tipped over that delicious edge.

“Nooooo,” she whimpered, voice hoarse.

I pushed into her again, my pace brutal now, jaw clenched as I fought off my own orgasm. But I was right there. And I wanted her marked. Wanted her ruined.

“Please, Max, please let me…” She begged, and fuck me if that almost didn’t break my need to punish her again. Almost.

I tangled my fingers in her dark hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror. She was a glorious sight. Red cheeks, swollen lips, eyes glassy and fucking desperate.

“Look at you,” I snarled. “You look so damn pretty taking my cock, being fucked raw like a slut. My slut. Is this what you wanted, Angel, hmm?”

She whimpered, her thighs trembling, trying to close them to force her orgasm out and find that sweet release.

“You wanna come, Baby?” I whispered against her ear, rolling my hips just right, giving in to her needs just a little.

“Yes,” she moaned.

I stilled. Purposely denying her. The whimper that broke from her throat nearly had me snapping. But this wasn’t about her pleasure.

This was about punishment.

“No,” I growled, pulling out almost all the way, just to slam back into her once, twice, so deep she nearly collapsed. “You don’t get to come. Not tonight.”

She sobbed, grinding helplessly back against me, desperate for more friction, for any mercy I’d concede.

I gave her absolutely none.

Gritting my teeth, I thrust deep one last time, emptying myself inside her with a groan that I buried against her shoulder.

Hot.

Messy.

Claiming.

I stayed inside her a beat longer than necessary, feeling her walls flutter and clench around me in frustration. Once she settled, I pulled out slowly, watching the wreckage I’d left. Her dress pushed up and scrunched, her ruined lipstick, her glossy, wild and desperate eyes.

Alison sagged against the counter, struggling to catch her breath, and I reached over her to whisper against her ear. “No panties, Angel. You’re walking back like this. Dripping. And you’ll smile, Baby, because you asked for this.”

It didn’t matter that she shook her head in denial. Her underwear was shredded in my pocket, she had no fucking choice.

I tucked myself away, zipped my pants, and wiped the sweat from my forehead. Straightening my jacket like nothing had happened, I caught her chin between two fingers and forced her to look at me one more time.

“Fix your dress, Principessa ,” I rasped, “and don’t even think about cleaning up.”

I let her pull herself together with shaky hands. Watched her tug the hem of her dress down over trembling thighs before I stepped out into the hall.

Cool, calm, and collected. But that was all a fucking facade made of smoke and an iron restraint that I had no idea how I was holding up.

Inside? I was nothing short of feral.

My blood was still jarring in furious pumps through my veins, counting each step as I resumed my spot behind her chair. The chatter was intense and consuming enough that even though my absence must have been felt, they wouldn’t have taken notice of how long I’d been gone.

As intense as it was, it was fast and fucking furious.

Two minutes later, Alison walked out, and I watched her glide to the table like a damn queen. She didn’t stumble. Didn’t flinch. But her stride had changed just enough for me to know she was still feeling me inside her.

And she was fucking glorious.

Her lips were red and swollen. Her hair was a little too perfect. Her cheeks flushed.

Alison sat like a woman who’d just been thoroughly fucked and denied everything she wanted. She could be pissed, but her smile told me I had her exactly where I wanted her – needy and at my mercy. I’d give her a decent reward for being such a good girl later when we got the hell out of here.

But until then, my eyes would register each one of her movements, reveling in the thought that every time she shifted in that chair, my cum would remind her who she fucking belonged to.

Vincenzo watched her, his jaw tight and eyes narrow.

Suspicious.

Mio caro fratello , my precious brother , wasn’t dumb. Far from it. But I couldn’t stop myself from twisting that knife and aiming for annihilation.

So I leaned forward, just a step behind him, close enough that my breath brushed his ear.

“That’s as much of your DNA as she’ll ever have inside of her,” I whispered, voice low and razor sharp. “The part you and me share.”