Page 47 of The Ecstasy of Sin (Brutal Brotherhood #1)

He hisses, his pupils blowing wide as his lust overtakes him. He presses a scorching kiss to my throat, then gently slides me off his lap and lowers me to the floor. “Don’t move,” he commands, shifting back and rising to his feet.

Dominic grabs the chair I was tied to, dragging it over to the wall. Then he stalks over to the unconscious man, fisting his collar and lifting him up off the floor like he weighs nothing, depositing him into the chair like worthless trash.

He walks over to me, grabs the rope that once bound me, and uses it to secure my captor to the chair.

His hands work fast, tightening knots, and anchoring his wrists.

He finds more rope and secures the man’s ankles, then wraps another length around his midsection, threading it through the slats in the back of the chair like he’s trussing a pig for slaughter.

When he’s satisfied the bastard isn’t going anywhere, he heads for the kitchen.

I hear the table legs screech as he drags the whole thing across the floor and positions it a few feet in front of the chair. With one quick sweep of his arm, he clears it—glass, cutlery, and scraps of paper clattering to the floor .

I lean forward, curious. “What are you doing?”

Dominic offers me a demented grin. “Playing with my food.”

I take a deep, steadying breath. I know what’s coming. I can do this. I can look at the darkest parts of Dominic, and not turn away.

He returns to the chair and slaps the man until he rouses. He comes to with a garbled scream, his jaw dangling uselessly from his face.

“There you are,” Dominic croons, his voice mockingly sweet. “I wouldn’t want you to miss this part.”

He reaches behind his back, withdraws his blade, and slices the man’s shirt wide open. The fabric parts to expose his hairy chest. Then he reaches into the man’s pocket and fishes out his old leather wallet.

He flips it open casually, then begins calmly tossing cards to the ground one by one. Finding his drivers license, Dominic stares at it for a moment before flicking it directly at the mobster’s face.

“Bad news, Boris,” he says with a charismatic smile. “You’re going to suffer before you die.”

The sounds coming out of Boris’s mouth are a garbled mess, his broken jaw ruining any attempt at speech. There is agony clinging to every syllable that fails to form.

“What’s that?” Dominic asks, leaning in, hand cupping his ear like he’s genuinely trying to listen. “I didn’t quite catch that. ”

The chair rattles as Boris fights the ties that bind him, tears spilling down his face. “Those sad little tears don’t mean shit to me.”

Dominic points at me, that lethal blade clutched tightly in his hand. “Her tears, however. Those matter to me. They’re mine,” he tells him, leaning into his space. “And you took them from me.”

Boris already looks like a mutilated corpse. His nose is shattered, his jaw disfigured, and there is blood painting his skin. I can tell it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

Dominic crouches again, peeling away what remains of Boris’s shirt. “So, Boris,” he continues conversationally, “here’s what we’re gonna do.” His blade glints in the low light. “I’m going to make you bleed. One drop for every tear you stole from me.”

The dagger spins in his grip like an extension of his arm, before he drags the edge slowly across Boris’s chest. A red line blooms in its wake, his eyes wide and twitching as he tries to breathe through the pain.

Dominic carves another line. Then another. And another. The blade dips deeper each time, sculpting the muscle, and flaying his skin.

Boris is screaming. The sound cracks under sobs, then sharpens again as Dominic ruins every inch of his chest in a savage display of artistry.

With a casual flick, Dominic tosses the blood-soaked dagger into the air. When he catches it again, he drives it straight down between Boris’s legs .

He shrieks—a blood-curdling noise that fractures into a strained choking sound. His body jerks, his eyes bulging, and just like that, he slips into unconsciousness.

I gag, watching the blood soak the front of his pants, the scent of urine mixing with the metallic tang tainting the air.

I breathe through my mouth, waiting for the nausea to pass. The sound of Dominic slapping Boris around fills my ears.

The dagger is back in Dominic’s hand. Boris stares forward, his bloodshot eyes unfocused. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, each one shallow and wet.

I stare at Boris, who finally meets my gaze, his narrowed eyes full of pure hatred. The memory of him hitting me, and preparing to violate me, is enough to chase the nausea away.

I swallow, and lift my chin in silent defiance.

Dominic tosses the dagger in the air again, and this time when he brings it down, he drives it into Boris’s left knee. I cringe as it slides behind his kneecap with a sickening pop.

He screams, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, spit and blood flying from his tongue. His body convulses as his eyes roll back. Dominic slaps him again, but Boris falls unconscious anyway.

Dom turns to me, pleasure carved into his expression. He wipes the blade on his pant leg, and I can’t help but drink in the sight of him.

Like an avenging devil, drenched in the blood of my enemies, he offers me a satisfied smile.

“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting his hand toward me .

I rise to my feet, but I’m a little unsteady. He steps forward to catch me before my knees give out, pulling me against his body. “I’ve got you, little lamb.”

He takes my lips in a kiss, deepening it instantly with a sensual caress of his tongue. I melt into him, dizzy from the taste of him, the feel of him, and the violence still clinging to his skin.

Pain throbs through my face, but it only makes the relief of being in his arms again sharper.

He guides me toward the table, walking me until my ass bumps against the edge. Then his hands grip my hips, and he lifts me effortlessly onto the smooth wooden surface.

“Dominic,” I breathe, my palms pressing to his blood-streaked chest, my fingers playing with the soaked black fabric of his shirt.

He steps between my legs and wraps his arms around me, unapologetic about the carnage he wears like a trophy.

I lean in, desperate for more of his touch. My lips part, and my tongue sweeps across his bottom lip in invitation.

He sighs, his body relaxing, as I pull his bottom lip between my teeth and suck. He moans when I taste the blood of our enemies on his mouth.

My fingers drift up to cradle the side of his face, and I pull him closer to me, kissing him feverishly. I put everything I’m feeling into the kiss, letting him taste my adoration and my need.

When I pull away, his lips chase mine, brushing softly against them. “I would die for you, Wren.”

I nod, whispering against his mouth, “I know. I would die for you, too. ”

His hand rises to grip my throat, thumb stroking the quickened heartbeat beneath my skin. “Death can’t have you. You belong to me,” he promises, his gaze locked on mine.

I could spend the rest of my life drowning in the possessive adoration burning in his beautiful eyes. “Then I would live for you.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, then his hand drops to my chest. His palm settles between my breasts, and his other hand tugs away the ruined remnants of my shirt. The fabric falls to the floor in a heap.

My eyes stay on his as he presses down with his palm, lowering me onto my back.

Heat spreads low in my body as he shifts me farther down the table, and places both of my feet carefully on the dusty surface so I can brace with my knees up.

My eyes widen when he unbuttons my jeans, his hands gripping the material and dragging it down my legs. He puts my feet back in place, and tosses my pants aside.

“Dom…” I whisper, confusion etched across my features as my eyes flick to the bloodied ruin of Boris slumped in the chair.

When I turn back to Dominic, his eyes immediately find mine.

“I don’t want you to think about anything but your pleasure,” he commands, stroking his hand down my body to hook his fingers in my underwear and pull them off. “When he screams, when he cries, when he fucking begs… I want you to focus on how good I’m making you feel. ”

I swallow hard against the guilt that tries to crawl up my spine, but the insatiable lust in Dominic’s gaze and his hands on my thighs ground me. I breathe, closing my eyes for just a moment to gather myself, before I relax my legs.

He grips my hips, dragging me to the edge of the table. My legs fall over his shoulders as he sinks to his knees between them, his head lowering between my thighs.

I whimper at the feel of his breath caressing my clit, before he places a series of languid kisses along my inner thigh. He teases me, kissing everywhere except where I need him to go.

His pace is maddening, and my back arches as my hips rise. Just before I’m about to start begging, he shows me mercy.

His hot tongue glides through the lips of my pussy, then slides back and dips into the soft opening. I gasp, his tongue rolling inside of me, making sparks of pleasure dance along my spine.

Withdrawing his tongue, he strokes me softly like he’s stoking a flame. The wet heat of his mouth has my hips twisting, desperate for more.

I nearly forget there is a man dying feet away from me, as Dominic’s tongue delves into my swollen pussy like he’s starved for the taste of me.

Messy and unrestrained, his fingers dig into the soft skin of my thighs as he pulls me closer to his face.

Dominic is trying to drown in the slickness of my arousal, burying his face between my legs and chasing my pleasure like the predator he is. I cry out, wordlessly begging for more .

My hips twist as I moan, his name falling from my lips. He pins me down to hold me in place, unyielding in his control over me.

The sounds coming out of me only make his movements more feverish, which sends me spiraling higher toward an orgasm I know will completely unravel me.