Page 65 of Thorns of Death

“Cazzo!” Enrico barked, his body tense.

I worked my clit faster, circling and rubbing in sync with his pace, pleasure within reach. Moaning, I picked up speed. I couldn’t remember ever being this turned on before. But my clit craved the friction, and I moved faster, in time with Enrico’s hand. I imagined him inside me, his body heavy on me.

“It would feel so good if I were fucking you right now, no?” Fuck, that Italian accent would be the death of me.

“Yes,” I panted, grasping the counter with one hand while continuing to work myself. A tingling sensation blossomed at the base of my spine, gathering and pulsing. A wave of pleasure rushed toward me, but I wanted to see him come undone first. His fist wrapped tightly over his shaft, his movements fast and rough now.

“Cazzo, Isla. Be a good girl and come for me.” My name on his lips was my undoing. The orgasm crashed into me with the strength of a category-five hurricane.

I came all over my fingers at the same time as thick spurts shot from his cock and trickled down his six-pack abs.

We both panted, our muscles shaking and our gazes locked as the pleasure sparked through the video feed like a live wire.

“I want to taste you so badly,” I admitted softly, my breathing erratic.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

I swallowed hard, knowing that after tomorrow, we’d likely cut all ties. Because I’d betray him to help Tatiana.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated. I slid off the counter and reached for my boy shorts, pulling them back on. Tomorrow we’d end whatever this was, and that thought was depressing. “Good night.”

“Good night,piccolina.”

Our call ended, but my heart still raced. After washing my face with cold water in hopes of cooling off, I snuck back into bed.

Just as I was setting my phone on the nightstand, it buzzed again.

See you in the morning. Wear a dress. Fully expect to get on my knees.

A soft gasp tore through my lips. Gosh, this man and the images he could paint in my head. He was better than any music I ever made. Maybe he was my muse?

Enrico Marchetti.

The name alone made my heart flutter. The man was clearly wrong for me on so many levels. Too old. A liar. A cheater.

All that was left was learning he was a killer, and I’d be certain I found myself a winner. And yet, here I was, craving him like the air I breathed.

I twisted around and buried my face into the pillow. I really needed a sanity check. And some sleep so I could play my part tomorrow.

I pushed all lustful thoughts from my mind and focused on the soft music in the distance of this city that never rested, letting the soft glimmer of the Eiffel Tower under the moon pull me under.

* * *

I peeked at my sister-in-law through my heavy eyelids as she slipped on her Louboutin heels. Tatiana looked gorgeous wearing a champagne-colored dress that reached her thighs. Her back was open with the crisscrossed strings connecting them. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair was pulled up in a slick high ponytail. She looked like a woman on a mission.

And I… I just flew by the seat of my pants while fighting sleepiness. And then there was my mane that refused to be tamed.

Usually, I was the petite one, even among my friends. But next to Tatiana, I felt even shorter than my five foot four. It was stupid, but I felt self-conscious next to her. Her confidence and her height made her stand out, and the insecure part of me almost regretted taking her to Enrico.

He’d never notice me next to her.

But then I immediately scolded myself for such pettiness. Bottom line, Enrico didn’t matter. He wasn’t family. My brother and Tatiana were, and when push came to shove, I’d always choose family.

I watched her reach into her purse and pull out the handgun, checking the magazine for the nonexistent ammunition. It was amazing how comfortable she was around guns. I envied it.

“Are you plotting world domination?” I murmured, still in bed while she looked ready to head out.

She rolled her eyes, but her soft smile kind of ruined it. “Not while you’re in bed.”