Page 43 of Widow’s Walk (Women of the Mafia #1)

Chapter thirty-eight

Sinclair

H e’s fucking insane.

Sex between us is already intense. Cringe-worthy even. Too much for most people to ever bear witness to. But right now, it’s me who’s afraid.

I’m slammed to the mattress by my hips with a grunt and a growl. My eyes go wide, and I can smell myself on him when he covers me with his sweaty body. Then I taste it when he kisses me. Or what is supposed to be a kiss. It’s punishing and bruising. But it doesn’t stop me from kissing him back.

I wrap my arms around him and fist his hair.

His massive hands grip my ass and spreads me wide for him.

He’s so fucking hard he needs no assistance in finding his way inside of me.

He spears into me with a violent thrust. Giving me no time at all to accommodate him, he fucks me with brutality and animosity. As if he fucking hates me.

Yes, fuck me like you hate me, baby.

He props himself up with his arms locked and slams into me with a vicious sneer on his face. Lip curled up and nostrils flaring. My body jolts, and my breath stutters with every penetration. There’s hardly a rhythm to his madness. Just lost to his own craze.

One of my legs is hoisted up over his shoulder. It hits at a new angle, and I cry in raw pleasure. He has me coming so fucking fast, I hardly get to enjoy it. But it leaves a lingering sensation on me and he’s already pushing me up that fucking mountain again.

He pulls out, and I try to focus on his face. He’s still unhinged. Hair falling over his face, and sweat now dripping from him. He spits in his hand and I suck in sharply, knowing exactly what comes next.

Of course it is. I teased him with it. But I didn’t anticipate the lust-laced frenzy he’d be in when he fucked me in my ass.

He pushes my legs together, twisting my lower half to the side, my upper body still flat on the bed. Then he smears his spit up and down my cracks and creases. Mixing it with my natural wetness. I clench on instinct when he shoves two fingers in my ass and I can barely keep my vision straight.

There’s no pause for me to adjust. No patience. He thrusts his fingers in and out, and I soon feel my muscles loosen. His face mimics mine as I feel the pleasure in every single inch of my body and soul. Lips slack, eyes sleepy, face flushed.

Fucking hell.

His eyes dart up like something caught them. Then he reaches above my head, grabbing something. I don’t see what it is, I’m too fucking far gone to even care.

He almost scrambles off the bed and swiftly yanks me to the edge of it, forcing me on my hands and knees. I rock back, opening myself like a fucking flower.

The object that was in my ass only minutes ago it felt like, is shoved in my face. “Fuck yourself with this,” he rasps, voice rough and breathy.

My eyes light up, and I glance at him before accepting it.

I hear him spit a split second before feeling it land in my crack and drip down.

I reach between my legs and gently slide the plug in my raw-fucked pussy.

It burns from his barbarity. He’s the only one who has ever fucked me so thoroughly my pussy swells up and it hurts to sit for days.

I hear him spitting again before pressing his cock against me. He keeps the momentum going, his head dipping into my ass an inch at a time. Until the very last inch, he slams in. My body lurches forward from the impact, causing me to fall to my elbows, giving him a better position.

My breath catches when he lands a good smack to my ass. His hips already in motion. “I said fuck yourself,” he says with a whipping tone.

I had completely forgotten about the toy just chilling in my pussy. I begin doing as he says, but it’s hard to concentrate when all I can feel is his cock stretching me so painfully good.

My eyes pop open wide when he lands another hard slap to the same area, making it sting more.

I have never been spanked during sex before.

I assume it’s because men were much too afraid to strike me.

Or maybe it was because I usually had them bound and entirely under my control, it was impossible for them to do so.

But fuck , I love it when he adds the perfect touch of pain to pleasure.

“Start moving or I will find something bigger than my cock to fuck you with while I tear this ass up,” he rushes out, his words jumbled and tight.

Gulping, I begin flicking my wrist faster. Faster until it makes a lewd slapping sound. I can’t take it. Fuck, I can’t take it. It’s too much. Too. Fucking. Much.

I bury my face into the mattress and scream. And despite his threat, I can’t fucking move anymore. I twitch and convulse as liquid shoots out of my pussy.

“Tell me where you want it.” His voice hardly reaches me.

I’m still reeling from the explosion. Smack!

Like when someone is losing consciousness and you smack them hard across their face, enough to come back.

That’s what it’s like when he gives me a smack on my ass that’ll leave his handprint for days.

I’m suddenly alert. His pelvis slows, and he curls his body over me.

His hot breath hits my ear with short breaks.

“Where do you want it, baby?” he whispers, then nibbles on my earlobe. “Hm?”

“Inside me,” I whisper back, my voice hoarse and my throat raw.

I’m left confused when he pulls out, then I’m flying through the air for only a second when he tosses my body like it’s nothing. My head landing up near the pillows.

I automatically roll to my back with my knees up. He has this devilish yet boyish smirk when he sits back on his haunches between my legs. His muscles are more defined from exertion, and his face no longer holds that daunting anger, but the threat still lingers.

“One more,” he says, then tugs on the plug I had abandoned in my pussy.

I hiss and try to scramble back, but he clamps a hand down on my thigh, his face stone again. I don’t think I can take any more. “No,” I let the word tumble weakly out of my lips by accident.

He ignores my concerns and gently removes the toy, only to rub my pussy with his fingers. I’m so fucking sensitive, I can’t tell if it feels good or bad. My heels dig into the mattress, my back comes up, my head rolls back, my eyes squeeze shut, my fists furl around the sheets.

Then he stops, and I think he’s finally done. I crack an open only to see him spitting in his hand to rub over the head of his cock. His eyes fall to mine, refusing to let me go. Gripping my thighs, he spreads them and nudges at my asshole.

I start panting, and I shake my head even though I begged my body not to. He pushes his way in, and I try to refuse him. Locking my muscles up and trying to scoot away.

“Shh—shh—shh,” he hushes and lies on top of me. He moves slowly while trying to console me. His lips find mine, and I can’t reject him when he kisses me.

My body is still tense, and I’m still trying to rebuff, but he won’t let me. Yet he does show mercy. Going slowly until I finally relax under him. The more I do, the faster he goes, and the more I want it again.

His hand wraps around the back of my neck, cradling my head as he kisses me, pouring so much passion into it. His other hand fists my one tender ass cheek, pulling it apart. I gasp and whimper into his mouth, kissing him more aggressively. Desperately.

I cling to him with my arms around him, my nails digging into his back. Warning him that if he tries to leave, I will rip him in half.

He switches the position of his hips so that his body rubs against my pussy. This time, I welcome the friction. The burn only makes it that much better. I’m shaking, and small noises keep spilling from me.

“Blackwell,” I cry his name into a kiss and begin to convulse. He groans in response, jerking inside of me without warning. Like he could have gone longer if it weren’t for me crying out his name mid-orgasm. Like that’s what lit the fuse.

His breath shutters and his thrusts turn to small jerks, and when he groans again, my pussy gushes.

This man has fucked me up forever.

And you know what?

Fuck it. Take me.

Our hearts finally come down from dangerous heights, still thunderous but steadying.

Our limbs remain tangled in the afterglow, warm and worn. The room is heavy with sex and smoke, but it’s him I breathe. Salt and cedar. His scent is now a part of mine.

He’s becoming the center of everything.

I know it will all eventually end in more pain. Everything does. Not just for me, but for everyone. That’s the nature of wanting something too much.

But I’m in too deep to care anymore. I will be the one who decides my fate, and I choose him. If he kills me, then so be it. It was my final act of defiance disguised as devotion.

Tonight, he gave me a piece of his trust. It’s only fair he gets a tiny piece of me. He’s earned it. I’ll never let my guard down, but I’ll give him something he’s been trying to reach all along.

“I was nine when it started happening,” I say quietly, and he almost stops breathing.

In fear or fury, I’m not sure. But I do know that he wants to hear this.

“Royce—” I swallow his name like poison.

The embarrassment and shame have been plaguing me lately.

Not for what happened, but what it might do to him .

“He’s always been…off. Like seriously sick.

The kind of wrong that doesn’t need a reason.

Just born rotten.” I pause, and he controls his breathing. Each inhale measured.

“Tortured animals and all that serial killer shit. You know, how they all start.” I breathe, my breath ghosting across his broad chest. “We were close, once upon a time. Born only three years apart… He was never kind to me or anything, but we got along as kids. Always finding trouble.”

“Then he started looking at me differently. The kind that made me uncomfortable. Even at nine, I could feel it.” The bile rises, but I push through it.

“So, I began distancing myself, but that only made it worse. For months, he stalked me. He would appear out of nowhere. Straight from the shadows, waiting to strike.”

I close my eyes, and my breath shudders.

Blackwell doesn’t say anything, but his hand moves, slightly tightening around me.

“One night, I woke up, and he was just standing there. Watching me sleep.” I swallow.

“Then he crawled under the covers and…held me.” My throat tightens. “That’s how it started.”

“It only escalated from there. Not only behind closed doors, but publicly. He was possessive, yet still merciless when we’d train.

Probably battling with the fact that he was obsessed with his own sister.

Why wouldn’t he take it out on me?” I snort.

“The scar on my hip,” I start. “He carved his initials in it. Branding me like fucking livestock. That did something to me. Maybe it was the final straw, but it’s what made me finally snap.

I wasn’t rolling over anymore. I mean, I used to fight back when things were getting worse, but I gave up easily.

Because what was the point? I never stood a chance.

But then I stopped caring what happened to me if I tried.

So, I did. That’s when my father found out about it.

We were beating each other to a pulp one night and woke everyone up. And I told my father everything.”

I’ll never forget the way he looked at me.

Not Royce.

Me .

Like I was the sickness.

“Anyways. We were both punished.” He goes rigid under me.

“It didn’t stop him, though. He was just more careful.

He’d try to catch me alone anywhere in the house.

But I wasn’t playing his games anymore. And he knew better than to get caught again, so as long as I fought back hard enough, he’d eventually back off. ”

I take another breath. “Then it stopped. No more ambushes. No shadow games. But I knew better than to believe he was done. That he gave up. It had me even more paranoid, a whole new fucked up game. So, I began stalking him. That’s how I found out he was sneaking into Gwen’s room.

” My voice cracks on her name. I haven’t said it out loud since she died.

“I didn’t even think about it. I acted. I thought I had to save her.

Turns out, she didn’t need saving. She didn’t want it. ”

I thought she didn’t, but knowing everything I know now, she was doing it for me. Her only way of protecting me. She took the damage so I wouldn’t.

I clear my throat, choking down the wretched memories like bile. “I cut his initials out. Obviously.”

I stop talking. I’m done. Mentally drained. The vulnerability has me sick to my stomach. My head pounds with an overwhelming rush. But I don’t regret it.

Blackwell gently pushes me to my back, his handsome face unreadable as he hovers over me. There’s no pity, no disgust, nothing but calm.

Without a word, he comes down to kiss me. There’s nothing different about it, at least not in the alarming sense. When he pulls away, my hand reaches up to brush a dark lock of his hair out of his face. The moment feels surreal.

“I know the deal was sexually based, but…” he trails off.

“But what?”

“My night won’t be.”

I squint at him. “Meaning?”

He takes a moment to answer. “For my one night, I want to see you play.”

I blink. “Play…the piano?” He nods, and I stare at him for a moment before breaking into laughter. “Really? First the dance, now seeing me play the piano?” His expression is unwavering.

It has me sobering, my laughter dying. He’s serious. He’s actually fucking serious. Instead of staking his claim and trying to push me further, he wants this .

I roll out from underneath him, and he lets me. Slipping my silk teddy back on, I get to my feet and glance at him over my shoulder. He’s lying on his side, displayed in all his naked glory, only wearing a smirk. “Well, come on.”

“Now?”

I shrug. “Why not? Or are you too tired, grandpa?” I grin, and he gives me a scowl. “I get it. You’re what, forty-nine, fifty?”

He grunts and slides off the bed to stand in front of me. “Forty,” he mutters dryly. “And no, I’m not too tired.”