Page 32 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

NICO

Fuck. I was this close to coming down his throat.

The way he looked up at me—hungry, desperate, trying to earn back what he broke—it almost worked. No, it is working. And that pisses me off almost as much as it turns me on.

I slam him against the wall, shoving two fingers between his lips. He opens for me without hesitation, taking it deep, gagging around the intrusion but never breaking eye contact. Christ, he’s never been this submissive. This eager to obey. It’s unraveling me faster than I want to admit.

I pull my fingers free, slick and trembling, and drag them lower, teasing the spot I know he wants me most. He moans, hips jerking forward, needy and desperate.

“You want my fingers inside you, cucciolo?” I breathe against his ear.

“Please…” His voice is a wrecked whisper.

I chuckle, circling his rim but not pressing in. “How bad?”

His knees nearly buckle.

“So fucking bad,” he gasps. “Please. Inside.”

I slip one finger in, just enough to feel him clench around it, and that’s when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

He freezes.

I don’t.

I push in deeper while fishing the phone out of my pocket with my free hand.

He turns to look at me, every part of him trembling.

He clamps around my fingers so tight it’s like his body’s trying to keep me inside him, greedy little thing. He jerks when I push deeper, a sharp gasp slipping past his lips.

Too loud.

“Cover your mouth,” I murmur. “Unless you want everyone to hear.”

He slaps a hand over his mouth as I pin him harder to the wall. He squirms, but not to get away. He’s arching into it, chasing more, desperate for it.

I slide another finger in, twisting them just right. His knees buckle.

I answer the call with my free hand, keeping my voice level. “Yeah.”

Julian’s eyes widen, pupils blown, cheeks flushed. He’s trembling, hips rolling on instinct. I tighten my grip over his mouth and hold a finger to my lips.

“I said I’d handle it,” I growl into the phone. “If Luca’s got a problem, he can come to me directly.”

Julian’s trying so fucking hard not to make a sound. His cock is dripping, his thighs shaking. He’s going to come just like this—stuffed full, stuttering on my hand, listening to me talk business like he’s not falling apart.

“Mm-hm,” I mutter, keeping my voice steady while I scissor my fingers inside him, slow and cruel. “No, we’re not changing the shipment schedule. If the docks are too hot, use the warehouse in East Bay. No fuckups this time.”

He lets out a strangled sound under my palm—half-moan, half-beg. I smirk.

“Yeah. Tell him to double the muscle and call me when it’s done.”

I hang up and slide the phone back in my pocket.

Julian’s breath hitches hard when I finally pull my hand away from his mouth, fingers still fucking him deep and slow.

“Bravo, piccolino,” I murmur, my voice dark with satisfaction. “You didn’t make a sound. That deserve a reward?”

He nods frantically, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from biting back his cries.

I lean in, my mouth grazing his ear as I curl my fingers just right.

“Then come for me,” I whisper, my tongue brushing his skin. “Make a fucking mess.”

And he does, shattering with a soundless cry, his whole body shaking, choking on the pleasure I gave him without even using my cock.

Mine. Every broken, trembling inch of him.

“Now what do you want?” I murmur, already knowing the answer from the way he’s breathing.

Instead of answering, he reaches behind him, his hand searching for my cock like he can’t help himself.

I grab his wrists and slam them above his head, pinning them to the wall with one hand. He gasps.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

He shakes his head quickly, shivering under my grip. “I’m sorry.”

I bite down on his neck, and he moans like I just fed him a hit of something addictive.

“Wait here, piccolino. I’ll go grab a condom.”

But before I let go, he grinds his ass against my cock like a goddamn tease. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Just do it.”

I lean in close, mouth to his ear. “You sure?”

He nods frantically. “Just fucking give it to me already.”

There it is. That bratty little edge under all the desperation... the one that drives me crazy.

I smirk. “Lube’s upstairs,” I whisper against his skin. “So either I go grab it… you walk your pretty ass to the bedroom just like this… or—” I pull back just enough to drag my cock along his crease. “—you get it wet again. Your choice.”

He grits his teeth, eyes flashing with defiance, as he turns around and drops to his knees. He takes me in his mouth like he’s starving for it.

This time, I let him have control. His head bobs, mouth working me, deeper, sloppier, filthy sounds echoing in the dark. He chokes a little, then moans around me like he likes it. Like he wants to ruin himself for this.

I tip my head back, groaning low in my throat.

“Fuck, Julian,” I growl. “Keep going. Just like that.”

And he does, like he’s trying to earn every inch I promised him.

After a few more seconds, he pulls off with a gasp and rises shakily to his feet, lips swollen, eyes glassy with want.

I spin him around, pressing his chest to the wall. He exhales sharply, and I catch the way his fingers curl against the surface, already bracing himself. I spread him open with one hand, the other wrapped tightly around my cock, slick and throbbing.

“I’ll go slow,” I murmur, my voice low in his ear. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

He nods, breath hitching. His body’s trembling, half nerves, half need. And fuck, I love him like this. Ready to break, but still begging for more.

I press the head against him, teasing, letting him feel it. There’s no barrier between us this time. His breath stutters, back arching.

“Nico…” he whispers, almost like a prayer. Or a curse.

I groan low in my throat, dragging my cock slowly along his entrance. “Feel that, piccolino? There’s nothing between us, now.” I dip my head, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You still want it like this?”

“Yes,” he gasps, voice breaking. “Please.”

I slide in slowly, inch by inch, feeling every tight, trembling second of it. He clutches at the wall like it’s the only thing keeping him upright, a sharp cry escaping his throat as I bury myself deeper.

“Dios mio,” I growl, jaw clenched. “You’re so fucking tight… squeezing me like you never want to let go.”

His entire body shudders, and I still for a moment, letting him adjust. My hand finds his, fingers lacing together as I whisper, “You’re doing so fucking good for me. So perfect.”

He pushes back, needy and breathless, and I can’t hold back anymore.

I start to move, slowly at first, just enough to feel that drag, that pressure, that insane heat. He whimpers beneath me, hips rocking back, greedy for more.

The sound of skin on skin, wet and obscene, echoes through the room. Every thrust is deeper now, sharper, rawer. His nails scrape the wall. I clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries, but fuck, I want to hear every broken sound he makes.

“This is mine,” I grit out, snapping my hips. “You hear me, Julian? Every inch of you.”

He moans against my hand, nodding frantically. And when I reach down to stroke him in time with my thrusts, he nearly collapses.

“Gonna come?” I whisper darkly. “Gonna make a mess all over the wall for me?”

He chokes out something between a sob and a moan, shaking in my hold. His legs are barely keeping him upright, and I know he’s seconds from unraveling.

I don’t let up. I fuck him harder now, deeper as I stroke his cock. He gasps with every thrust, his body jolting forward as I pound into him.

“You’re dripping,” I growl into his ear. “So fucking needy. You were made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

He whimpers, his eyes rolling back, and I tighten my grip on his throat just enough to make his body jolt.

“That’s it,” I snarl. “I wanna feel you come. Want to feel that filthy little body seize up around me like it’s begging to be bred.”

He lets out a broken cry as his cock twitches untouched, spurting against the wall. The sight of it sends a pulse of heat through me that I can’t hold back.

“Fuck… good boy,” I groan, slamming into him one last time. “You take it so well.”

He goes limp, sagging against the wall, completely spent, but I’m not done. I keep moving, chasing my own high, using his oversensitive body like a toy until I feel that tight heat clamp around me again.

“Still so tight,” I snarl, pressing a hand between his shoulder blades and forcing him to arch. “You want it inside, don’t you? Want to feel it drip out of you after I’m done ruining you?”

He lets out a shattered moan, and I lose it.

I come with a guttural growl, burying myself deep as I spill inside him, hips jerking, teeth bared. My hand stays clamped around his waist, keeping him flush against me while I ride out every last pulse. It’s obscene. Filthy. Raw.

And still not enough.

When I finally pull out, I watch as it leaks down his thighs, a mark of ownership neither of us can deny. I trail my fingers down to smear it over him, claiming every inch of him.

“You’re mine now,” I whisper against his shoulder. “Don’t forget it.”

He doesn’t speak as he leans back into me, breath hitching, wrecked beyond words.

We come down from it slowly. Sweaty, dazed, breathing hard like we’ve just survived a war. Maybe we have. I drag my fingers through the mess of his hair and press a kiss to the back of his neck before pulling away.

“Get dressed,” I mutter, tossing him my shirt. It’s oversized on him, draping just enough to hide the marks I left. I tore his to shreds. Not sorry. But I don’t want anyone else seeing what I’ve claimed. That body’s mine.

He throws it on with a little hiss under his breath, clearly sore, and trails after me as we head upstairs to the bedroom.

The second we’re through the door, he flops face-first onto the bed with a groan that’s way too dramatic to be genuine.

I sit down beside him, still shirtless, my body humming from everything we just did. I watch the rise and fall of his back, the way he hides his face in the pillow like a petulant brat.

“You good?” I ask.

“No, asshole,” he mutters, voice muffled and raw. “I’m sore as fuck.”

I bite down a laugh.

“Sorry.”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at me. “No you’re not.”

I grin. “You’re right. I’m not.”

I stretch out and lift my arm in invitation. “Come here.”

He eyes me suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He hesitates, of course he does. Always trying to be difficult. But then he bites his lip, lets out a breath, and curls into my side, his head resting against my chest like it belongs there.

“You’re insane,” he mumbles. “One second you’re torturing me, the next you’re—”

“Fucking your brains out?” I finish for him, smirking.

“And now you’re coddling me,” he mutters, almost like he’s offended by it.

I hum low in my throat, my fingers drifting through his sweat-damp hair.

“You love it.”

He turns his face away, but I catch the flush on his cheeks. He doesn’t need to say a word. I already know.

You’re mine now, Cross.

And I’m never letting you go.