Page 71 of Blood Debt

She barely manages to lift her head before I’m helping her shift—pulling her off my lap, my cock sliding out with a wet sound that makes us both gasp. I turn her fast, guiding her to all fours in the front seat, her knees digging into the leather, her palms bracing against the dash.

Her ass is in the air—flushed. The sight makes my cock twitch.

Her back arches naturally. Her thighs part. I run my hand down the slope of her spine, then over her ass, squeezing until she whimpers, her breath fogging the windshield.

I line myself up, grip her hips—and thrust in. She cries out, one hand slapping the window for balance, the other clawing at the armrest. Her body jerks forward with the force of it, and I do it again—slamming into her with enough strength to rock the whole car.

“Fuck,” I groan, sweat dripping down my chest as I grip her harder. “You feel unreal.”

Her walls clamp around me, hot and soaked, her pussy pulling me deeper with every thrust. I set a brutal rhythm, sharp slaps echoing in the cramped cabin.

The sound of it is everywhere.

The slap of my hips against her ass.

The wet drag of her pussy swallowing me whole.

Our breath—ragged, loud, gasping.

Her moans turn frantic, mouth open as she tries to keep up, her body bouncing forward and back with every thrust. Sweat runs down the small of her back, slicking my grip as I pound into her.

The leather squeaks beneath us. The car rocks.

I slide one hand up her back, press between her shoulder blades, holding her down as I fuck her, like I’m trying to own every inch of her from the inside.

Her voice breaks with every thrust. Her cries melt into choked sobs of pleasure.

“Don’t stop—please—” she pants.

I won’t.

Not until she’s shaking beneath me. Not until I’ve wrung every drop of pleasure from her soaked, trembling body.

Chapter 15 – Serafina

Bellarosa Estate

The ride back is quiet.

Cristofano drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift like he didn’t just have his hands all over me ten minutes ago. Like he didn’t just pull me into his lap in the backseat, kiss me breathless, and take me apart one quiet moan at a time.

The city lights blur against the window. I stare out at them, jaw tight, arms folded.

My heart won’t settle. My legs ache, and my chest feels bruised from how fast everything moved. From how stupid I was.

From how much I wanted it.

By the time we reach the gates of the mansion, I’m already pulling away—physically, mentally, emotionally. I smooth down my skirt, tuck loose strands of hair back into place, and grip the door handle before the car fully stops.

He parks. I get out first.

I keep my head down and move toward the entrance with sharp, quiet steps. If anyone sees us walking together this late, they’ll talk. They’ll guess. And this whole mission will collapse around me like wet paper.

I’m almost at the door when I feel it.

His hand wraps around my wrist and pulls.

I turn, eyes wide.