Page 40 of Wretched Choices

“Fuck.” I wince at the pain in my shoulder. I’ve been shot.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing. Take the left into the alley. And then right.” I give her instructions, take my suit jacket off, and scrunch it up so I can use it to press on my wound.

“You need a hospital,” Isabel argues.

“It’s just my shoulder. Dante can take care of it. Drive back to the hotel.”

She halts the car, turning to me with fury in her eyes.

“We could have been killed.” She takes off the seat belt and leans toward me, pulling my jacket off and inspecting the wound. She raises her voice. “A little to the left and it could have been your chest that was hit.” She slaps me across the face. “You could have died, you idiot.” She is outraged, her face red. She hits me again, but I grab her hand and pull her toward me. Her breathing races, and she climbs into my lap, straddling me and doing one thing I’ve waited for.

She kisses me.

sixteen

Isabella

Fear, excitement, and adrenaline are pumping my blood.

Passion, lust, and confusion.

Fear of getting shot, or even worse, killed.

Excitement of the action and escaping the bullets. But how do I feel, and why did I hit Salvatore when he’s injured? I hit him until he pulled me to him.

I hate him for forcing me into this marriage, but I can’t stop kissing him. I need more.

His wound.

I tear my lips from his, his dark eyes filled with lust and demand. I tear his shirt open; I need to properly check hiswound. It has stopped bleeding. It’s an exit wound, thank God. Otherwise, I would be afraid of doing what I do next.

I place my hand on his chest and trail my finger down to the valley of his abs. Salvatore’s eyes never leave mine. When my hands reach his pants, I swallow down my nerves, forgetting all the promises I made and all my fears. I unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants.

I want this; I need this.

Salvatore’s hand finds my neck and he pulls me to him, kissing me frantically. His kiss is dominating, demanding.

Still kissing him, I pull his hard cock out of his pants. I wrap my hand around his thickness, running my hand up and down. The slickness of his pre-cum makes it easy for me. He growls against my mouth, his lips trailing kisses down to my neck, where his tongue licks the length of my neck. My hands clutch his hair, and I throw my head to the back, moaning. With his hand on my back, pulling me to him, he kisses from my neck down to my collarbone and the exposed flesh of my breast. Groaning, he tears down my dress from behind instead of opening the zipper. My breasts spill out in front of his face. Grinning, he takes one into his mouth, then the other. Sucking, biting.

We’re both frantic. All that can be heard is our grunting and moaning. His hands find their way under my dress and between my legs.

“Fuck!” he roars, finding my panties drenched with my arousal as he rips the material from my body.

I kissed him first, knowing very well where the kiss would lead. I made the first move. I raise my hips slightly until my wetness touches his cock.

I need this.

I never thought I would. Still kissing him, I slowly glide my pussy on his cock. When his cock reaches my barrier, withoutthinking twice, I slide all the way down, ignoring the instant pain in favor of the lust, need, and want that are overpowering my mind and taking over my senses. He tears his lips from mine, a questioning look in his eyes. I never told him, never planned on having sex with him. I bite my lower lip, fighting the pain.

He opens his mouth to ask, but I shake my head.

“Don’t stop. Please, I need this.” I kiss him. “Don’t talk. I’m begging you. Just fuck me.”

I begged, just like he said I would.

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