Page 32 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

AHANA

I had sinned. At one point, when he’d just plunged inside me, the pain had almost made me want to rip his head apart. Then it melted. And what I’d felt before he’d dived into me returned. And magnified. It was devious. Delicious. Extremely addictive.

There was no other reason than that as to why I’d just come like a full-blown hurricane. Not once, but twice, wrapped around his thick, pulsing erection.

I couldn’t help myself.

His words, his eyes, his hands. He only had to direct one of them my way, and I was gone. All putty in his presence.

I didn’t know what I had expected. I’d never done this before. The one time I did, it had been forced on me. Used as a vessel to battle his rage. His frustration.

But this was different. I’d never done it like this.

Definitely not with a thick, loaded gun like the one he possessed.

But it wasn’t this. This obsession of his.

He clawed at me and took me like I was his salvation or something.

It was wild. Uncultured. Absolute caveman behaviour.

One an intelligent woman like me shouldn’t condone.

One someone running from a past like mine shouldn’t succumb to.

But I wasn’t the one who pulled away from him.

My ankles were still locked tightly around his hips.

My hands were still clutching onto his hair.

Even if guilt clawed restlessly, satisfaction languished in my body.

For once, I wanted it all to be about me.

There was nothing that said it more than when this man devoured me.

The tanned God resting on me had other ideas.

He pulled himself out and sat up. Leaving me behind with a hollow emptiness that I yearned to have filled.

My eyes were like magnets and dropped instantly between us.

His erection was still red and swollen. Glistening with slickness.

Not even completely limp. I wasn’t used to any of this.

Experience lacked, but something nagged at my brain when a stream of wetness trickled out.

But I wasn’t given the time to ponder when he curled his hands on my ass and lifted me off the sofa.

This man. He handled me like a paper doll. “What are you doing?”

He was already halfway to the stairs. “Taking you up.”

“Why?”

He halted, a frown forming on his forehead. “To fuck you, of course. You didn’t think this was a one-time bang, did you?”

I didn’t think. That was the whole point.

He took two steps and jerked to a stop. “I agree.”

“What?”

He shoved me against the textured wall, bound my arms, and pinned them above my head.

“Too fucking far.” And he slipped in, this time slowly, a thick inch at a time, gaze pinned on me like a hawk.

My breath heaved, and a whimper released. Low and filled with need.

Shit.

I needed to stop this.

My pelvis pushed onto him.

I. Can’t. Bring. Myself. To. Stop. It.

His torso was bronzed and sculpted. His muscles rippled and shifted.

His hair was perfectly tousled. His lips were thick, like he’d used them.

Roughly. His eyes burned. With violence and lust. This man.

He wasn’t human. He was built like a God.

And when he pulled his hips back and prowled in, scraping my back along the rough textured wall, I realised he fucked like a devil.

The question was, what did it make me? Because it wasn’t fear that curled inside me. Rather, need that pulsed and dripped into my core. He scraped my back along the wall, but my nails ran the length of his arms and back, leaving raw, open claw marks of lust riding along his skin.

I could say he took me against my will, pinned between his arms. But really, it was as much him as me. We both moved like possessed evil.

I couldn’t quiet the moans climbing up my throat. I couldn’t stop the pulsing need between my legs. A faint thought rustled in my mind that I should at least try. Because at this rate, I was the very definition of sin that burned in hell.

“You’re so fucking hot,” his words rasped on my breasts. His scruff ran along my swollen, red skin. “All silk and velvet.” He nibbled on my nipple. “Made for my cock.”

And I couldn’t get myself to try. Instead, I came.

It was so messy it shouldn’t have even felt that good.

He was still wearing his shirt, and my torn dress hung off me like a flag.

My bra choked me, in between where it should have been and my throat.

It should have been all clumsy and awkward.

But it felt like I had reached the end. The tunnel with the light.

Absolute nirvana. My vision split, and a kaleidoscope of colours exploded.

I was faintly aware of him pulsing and jerking inside me, and when I fell back down to reality, I made myself a last promise.

This was the final time.

Halfway up the stairs, he grabbed my neck in a chokehold and made out with my lips. It was fast, hard, and rough. I allowed it. Just this once.

When we finally stumbled into his bedroom, he threw me onto his bed like I was weightless.

“Off,” he demanded, while flinging his shirt off.

For a second, I hesitated. He caught on and growled with anger. “Keep your fucking defiance for another time, Ahana. Get it all off. Now.”

Everything slowed down. I pulled my gaze off him and ran it to the door. I only had to walk away. That’s all I had to do.

“Ahana,” his tone was tight. An underlined order. A finality in it. My eyes snapped to his, and it was magnetic. I couldn’t escape under it. Didn’t want to, anyway. Slowly, like he had a pull on me, I shed what little clothes I had.

Satisfaction curled his lips up. It was so wicked and evil that there was no good hidden behind it. The worst part? I wasn’t even looking for it.

He set one knee on the bed and watched me.

His eyes rolling like heated silk from my pink toes, up my burning legs, to my core.

His hand grabbed his erection and stroked it absently.

Like he was thinking of me around it. The tip of his tongue slipped out to lick his lip.

It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. When his eyes finally touched my stomach, brushed my breasts and crawled up to my eyes, I wanted him. Again.

He knew it. The second his eyes connected with mine, there was an instant click.

The air sizzled with hot need. Lazily, he prowled towards me.

‘Prowl’ because it really felt like it. An animal coming for its prey.

He didn’t have to even push to settle between me.

I spread my legs willingly. One big hand cocooned my head, and when his lips dropped to mine, I was shocked by how soft they felt on me.

He was gentle with me. He nipped softly along my lip line and traced the bite marks with his tongue.

It shook something fragile inside me. It left me standing on unsolid ground.

I couldn’t bear it. He ran his teeth softly along my shoulder, and when he came to the dip between it and my neck, he nipped and left behind words I wanted to forget. Instantly.

“You’re fucking mine.”

My breath hitched. This was worse. He stilled. Noticed the shift in me. “Say it,” he demanded.

But I couldn’t. The one thing I never was, was mine. I was first my family’s then Rajesh’s. Now, I was a package in between. But I could never be his. I was Indian. He was Italian. I was running away from a monster. I was never meant to be his.

Something heavy sank in. My chest hollowed. It felt like a metal spoon had scraped my insides out. Rage built inside me. Injustice whirled within me. If it had only been a different time, a different world. Everything was beyond my control.

So I shifted it all. I yanked his head to mine and kissed him like what it was. The final time we’d ever be together. Maybe he felt it, or he didn’t. But he went along with it. Clutching my head to him, he spun us around. I straddled him, and his hands gripped my thighs.

“Ride me,” his voice grated with thick need.

Lifting my hips I sank slowly into him. Our gazes met as he disappeared a thick inch at a time inside me.

My melancholy reflected in his eyes. Then I realised I was wrong.

It was his own that sparkled within him.

The mood had shifted. Black hands had come for the both of us.

We both felt the thunderous cloud hanging above us.

When I started to move, his hands rubbed along my legs and gripped my ass.

He didn’t move. He let me set the speed.

His gaze was pinched and his fists clenched on my ass.

I bounced on him slowly at first, and then I sped up.

Still, he remained. Unmoving. His hands strained.

Muscles tensed. He was fighting it. He didn’t want to come.

I refused to think why. I didn’t want to think anymore.

I wanted him to want me. Like he had before.

Just for this final time. So I prowled on and yanked him along.

Until he had to give in. Until there was no other choice but to clutch me and to pump into me.

An inhuman groan erupted from him, just when he exploded inside me.

He didn’t like it. He was annoyed. Disgruntled.

He left me weak. Missing. I fell on him, shaken. Broken.

I wished I had never met him. I wished I had never let him inside me. I wouldn’t have known what it was like if I had never experienced it.