My tongue shoves between her lips, and she whimpers as my hand moves around to her throat and tightens, forcing her to open for me as she tries to pull in a breath. I use my grip there to push her up against the leather seat, turning us so my head blocks anything our driver might see if he snuck a peek.
I kiss her deeply, passionately, pouring every ounce of possession I feel for her into the act, and finally, I feel her meeting me with her own aggressiveness. Although she can’t control the kiss nearly as much as I can, since she can barely move anything other than her mouth. Her hands come up then, gripping my shirt in her fists, pulling me closer, her little sounds of pleasure and emotion driving me toward a breaking point I know I will reach before we ever make it home.
“Maxwell, park,” I bark through the haze of desire. I’m fucking high on this woman, and I can’t take another breath without it being inhaled from between her creamy thighs. I barely register the driver door being slammed shut before I’m right where I want to be, even though it’s not very accommodating due to my sheer size. But I maneuver her to where her back is now against a door, and I’m between her legs, the leather seat creaking under my deliberate movements. I reach beneath the skirt of her soft cotton dress, one that looks just like a long T-shirt but fits her curves like a second skin, and grasp hold of the scrap of stretchy fabric covering her pussy. With hardly any effort, I rip the panties off her, and she gasps, flinching slightly before her expression shows me just how turned on she is by my savagery.
“This, Bella.” Two fingers shove into her without preamble, but I’m not worried about causing her too much pain. I can smell how wet she is for me. “This is the only pussy I will ever allow near me for the rest of my fucking life.” She groans deep in her chest as I curl my fingers and drag the tips along her G-spot, feeling her cream coat them before dripping down my knuckles.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“That woman was a decoy. There to help me stay incognito while I tried to find the fucker who dared to call my woman his wife.” I swirl my thumb around her clit, and she lets out a high-pitched whimper that sets my blood on fire. “The fucker I was there to fucking kill for ever putting you in danger.” I circle her clit again, harder this time, at the same time I curl my fingers, and she starts to pant against my lips. “She could’ve been anybody, completely faceless for all the attention I paid her. Before you showed me that photo, I wouldn’t have been able to point her out in a lineup. You are the only woman I care to keep in my mind’s eye. You are the only woman who will ever get to stake claim on me. Do you understand?”
I pump my fingers in and out of her, her honey spilling out at a steady pace now, her hips rocking against my hand instinctively.
“Do you understand?” I repeat on a growl when she doesn’t answer, pulling my fingers out just long enough to slap her swollen pussy, making her squeal.
“Yes! I understand,” she sobs out as I insert a third finger, her eyes widening at the sudden stretch.
“That’s my good girl,” I tell her, and just like that, with one more swirl of my thumb against her clit as my three fingers massage that secret spot inside her, her pussy clamps down and pulses, sucking at the digits, as my princess throws her head back against the car door’s window and screams out with her orgasm. “That’s it, piccolina,” I praise as her hips grind down on my fingers, prolonging her ecstasy. “That’s right. Fuck my hand, Bella.” She’s mesmerizing in her rapture, her face contorted in a mix of agony and desire.
So mesmerizing it doesn’t register in my mind that the pop I hear outside the car is a gunshot until Arabella’s door is suddenly jerked open and a gun is in my face.
22
DeLuca
My grip on her throat and my fingers still inside her pussy are the only things that keep my girl from falling out the door and onto the ground. She screams once again, this time in fear and shock instead of in pleasure, and ice fills my veins at the sound.
I glance at the ground behind the black-clothing-covered body, seeing Maxwell lying there, a pool of blood starting to grow beneath him, and my nostrils flare in barely contained rage.
And then the gunman leans down, looking into the car, an ugly grin on his fucking smug face. “Well, what have we here? Wife, you’re cheating on me?” Ferro puts his empty hand to his chest, his expression turning to mock hurt. “My heart, it breaks.” He lifts his black eyes to me, arching a brow. “I’d ask if you’re into necrophilia, seeing as you’re fingerfucking a woman you said was dead, but by the flush in her cheeks I’ve never seen there before in all our years of marriage, I’d say… DeLuca, you lied to me,” he says, the last words coming out with a pout.