Page 94 of Bad Blood

“Is this the part where I have to beg for it?” I whisper, feeling the heat and fullness of him, and wanting more.So much more.

“No,mi amada,” he says, his fingers tracing my ‘666’ pendant. “This is whereIdo some of the begging for once. Because if you don’t let me inside you, if you don’t let me fill you up, I won’t be held responsible for the carnage I’ll be causing to this office.”

“Beg for it then, Carrera,” I whisper, pushing back on him, feeling him slide in slowly until he hits resistance. “Beg for pleasure from your Santiago wife.”

He slides in a little deeper and the first bite of pain makes me groan with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“Santi…”

His fingers find the hollow of my neck. I can feel the warmth of his palm wrapping around my skin—pressing, squeezing.... “On second thought, I’ll ask for your permission instead.”

Good enough.

“It’s yours.”

His hand tightens around my neck.Another inch.“Like you had any fucking choice in the matter.”

His next thrust buries his cock so deep inside me, his name on my lips is a scream and a prayer.

He curses.

“Santi!”

There’s nothing tender about the way he fucks. He means to shatter me. Pain turns to pleasure as he forces every inch inside me with every thrust. His hands are on my breasts, my ass, my mouth. There’s nowhere that doesn’t bear his delicious scars.

His control is insane. It’s as ruthless as he is. When he picks up his pace, each stroke—each vicious grunt—is a masterclass in expelling air from my lungs and more screams from my lips, as the glass desk below me turns as wet and slippery as my inner thighs.

I start to free-fall, and he forces his fingers into my mouth, turning my final scream into a twisted mess of skin and desire. As my back arches and my body shudders, he pulls out of me, his hand pumping viciously until thick ropes of cum cover my aching slit.

“Mine,” he grits out, giving me one of those blazing hard stares that turn our lies into truth.

“Ours,” I whisper, pulling him into my arms.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Santi

The roadto hell is paved with good intentions.

The road to this bed was paved with bad.

Thalia sighs in her sleep and rolls onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her chin and bringing her knees up to her chest, as if she’s keeping all her dreams hostage. The twisted white sheet that was wrapped around her naked body falls away, and I’m drunk off the sight it leaves behind.

No matter what happens, I’ll always own a piece of her. I’ll always be the first man to sample that helpless, rasping melody she makes when she comes… Tearing my gaze away, I lean back against the headboard and close my eyes.

The first to ruin her...

The empty glass in my hands demands a refill because that’s what happens when the woman you’re supposed to hate flips the fucking script on you. You start your drinking day before dawn.

I was supposed to use her and then toss her back to her family broken and shamed. Now, she’s lying in a bed I’ve never allowed another woman to sleep in before and stealing more than just my sheets.

Her debt chains her to me, and the key is buried in a vow of lies. But Bardi is gone, along with all my fucking leverage, so there’s no reason to keep her here…

So why can’t I let her go?

Placing the glass on the nightstand, I lean over and brush a lock of her dark hair away from her face.So beautiful. So dangerous.