When this Lucio Russo enters the room, my world spins on its axis. Air gets sucked out because he commands it. There’s confidence oozing from him, dark and dangerous.
“Strip for me. I’ll watch.” Once again, it’s an order, not a request. The chair I was sitting on only moments ago is where he sits, his legs spread as he watches me with those dark eyes. Tentatively, I reach for the hem of my tank top, tugging it in a slow movement up my torso until it’s lying in a heap at his shoes.
Silence hangs heavy around us, but as he shifts in the seat, I notice the gun peeking out from his jacket. Fear skyrockets my heart rate and I wonder why he’s wearing it inside the house. I’ve never seen it before.
“Is something wrong, Bella?” His question startles me out of my thoughts. When he notices where my line of sight is glued, he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Are you afraid of me?” The smirk on his face tells me it doesn’t bother him in the slightest if I am. Perhaps he wants me to be scared.
“Why would I be?”
“Because I’m a wicked man, Raina,” he warns, as he does every time we’re together, but each time, I want him more.
“You say that, but you’ve never shown me.”
Suddenly, he pushes off the chair and stalks toward me with a plan dancing in his eyes. Instinctively, I back away, my gaze locked on his. In two long strides, he reaches me and leans in with his face inches from mine. I move back instinctively as he closes the distance. Seconds later, my back hits the wall, and I realize I have nowhere to go. There is no escape, and I’m alone at home because Lucio broke in. He leans in, his body pressed against mine.
The heat of his breath warms me. The way his chest rises and falls in the expensive suit makes me want to touch him, but I know I shouldn’t. Maybe all this time I’ve been playing with fire and I’m about to get burned. “Take off your clothes, all of them. Now,” he bites out almost angrily, but I recognize the desire swimming in his dark eyes.
I make quick work of ridding myself of my shorts, panties, and I unclasp my bra that’s molded to my full breasts. He shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on my bed before he reaches for his gun. My breathing hitches in my throat. My heart thuds wildly against my ribs.
One of his large hands finds my hip, resting firmly yet gently on it, which only serves to scorch my skin from his touch. “I’ll show you what wicked men do to little girls who want to play with them,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s cooing a baby to sleep. “You’ve done things to me, sweet girl, so many things you shouldn’t have. Four long years and all I want is you.” The cold metal of the weapon trails from my cheek, down my neck, sending a cool shiver down my spine.
“What things, Lucio?” My voice is merely a whisper, nothing more than a needy whimper that makes him smile. He’s tall, dark, and handsome, but so beautifully scary, that it makes me quiver.
I know nothing of guns, so I do not know if it’s loaded or ready to fire. The barrel inches its way between my breasts, easily finding my belly button moments later. I think he’s going to stop, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slips the cold steel between my thighs. A gasp, loud and filled with shock, falls from my lips.
“Do you feel that, Bella?” The way his head tips to the side as he regards me makes him look evil, sinister. “Open your legs.” The deep growl of his voice sends heat coursing through me.
“Please, Lucio.” My whimper is rough with fear, need, and lust. I have no choice because each moment this man comes near me, I can’t fight him off. It’s as if I’m addicted to him. I crave him. He’s a drug, and I’m an addict.
“Do it!” he bites out and I obey swiftly. He nudges my pussy and I know I’m drenched.
Does fear turn me on?Yes.Am I fucking crazy?Probably. But the metal barrel slides into my core easily as he fucks me with his gun.
My head drops back, my mouth falls open on a pleasured moan, and my fingers grip the wall behind me. Digging my nails into the concrete, I try to find purchase on something, but I can’t. My knees shake. My thighs tremble as this man, this very dangerous criminal, fucks me with his gun. He moves slowly at first, but then the movements speed up. Goose bumps rise on every inch of my skin from the motions.
Lucio leans in close, his lips at my ear when he orders in a low, feral growl, “Come for me, Raina. Come on my gun inside your cunt.”
My world explodes in that second. My toes curl into the carpet and his arm bands around my waist as I drench his weapon with my juices. Suddenly, the gun is wrenched from me and I’m impaled on his cock. Thick and hard, it hits me inthatspot and I see stars. I feel the cool metal on my mouth as he paints my lips with the arousal on his gun.
His hips move against me, pinning me hard against the wall. My legs wrap easily around his middle, pulling him in deeper, needing more of him. His mouth finds purchase on my neck as he suckles the flesh into his mouth.
His teeth bear down on my skin, and I know he’s marking me. A feeling niggles in my chest, a sadness or fear, I’m not sure what, but I can’t comprehend what it is because he’s moving inside me, giving me the connection I wanted.
He sucks hard on my neck, his teeth breaking skin, and I know he’s drawing blood. Another orgasm slams into me and I bite down on my lower lip until I taste blood. He continues to fuck me relentlessly, faster and faster, as his hips slam me into the wall. A second later, his body locks. A groan rumbles in his chest as he fills me with his seed.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
And that’s when he leaves me in my bedroom, alone, shocked, and sated.
3
Franco
Four of my men stalk inside the office first.
Once it’s swept for any hiding enemies, I enter with my two brothers. Lucio told me to wait. Once his call came through twenty minutes ago to confirm he’d finished the meeting he was attending, I made my move. The thing is, his message was garbled with random mumbling, which made no sense. My gut churns with worry when I think about his ragged plea—get here now. It’s not like him to ask for help, but when he did, I heard the agony in his tone.
My one bodyguard, Enrico, saunters toward me, holding out a folder. It’s thick, bound with the crimson ribbon my father used to use on all his official paperwork. He’d bind it in such a way that would ensure nobody could open it and reseal it. And now, my cousin has done the same, which only strengthens the feeling of dread that’s settled in my chest.