Page 36 of Painted in Sin

“Victor, I…” I still want to protest this connection. The fear of being sucked back into that mess is so strong, it makes my stomach roil with anxiety. But his lips claim mine in a searing kiss I can’t fight. One I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired of fighting. It seems fate has pushed me toward him, and all I can do is let the red string bind us together permanently.

“I love you, Isabella De Luca, and I will go to the ends of the world to fight for you.” He holds me at arm’s length and looks me in the eye. “You know I’ve been wanting to go straight. I’ve told you so many times now, and I’m not sure you truly believe me. But the hidden documents, the ones the map leads us to, they will finally free me from the reputation laid on my shoulders by men who had nothing but evil intent for me. I will not walk into that future without you. Tell me you will walk with me. Tell me or my heart will die right here and now.”

I can’t respond. Tears flow hot and fast across my cheeks, dripping to my chest below. Victor’s pleading expression is so moving. How can I reject him? I nod, biting my lip, and whisper, “I love you too, Victor.”

He takes it as permission to kiss me again, and I allow it. The collision of our lips feels more like a merging of our souls. Our spirits align as he leans forward, pulling me against his body. The pain in my muscles eases when he lays me down, kissing me more deeply.

The passion between us is something that cannot be contained. Victor's hands roam my naked body once he peels back the covers, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. His lips explore my jawline, trailing down to suckle on my neck. I hiss and arch into him, and he responds by pressing his hardness into me and groaning. I’m tired, but never too tired for this man, for his urges, for my body to be sated by his affection.

“Yes,” I whisper against his mouth, as if he sought permission for this.

Victor reaches between us and undoes his belt buckle, then his zipper. For a moment, I’m tortured as he rises up, slipping out of his shirt and pants. When he slides his boxers down, his cock proudly stands on end for me, and I eagerly welcome him back to the bed as he settles between my knees.

“I thought I lost you,” he groans, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I’m right here,” I assure him as I take him into my hand, stroking his length.

His groan of pleasure is music to my ears and he bends down to capture my mouth again. “I love you, Bella,” he says against my lips before guiding himself in a few inches. I whimper as my hipsspread wider, fully aware of how badly my body is bruised from the accident. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, whispered worship that makes my heart flutter. Inch by aching inch, Victor slides into me like he’s claiming me, and I never want him to stop.

I’m his now. Body and soul, I will forever belong to him. He's worked hard enough for me, he's suffered even more than I could've imagined, and for what? For the truth and for love. Love that, until now, I never thought would be shared. I whimper into his neck as he takes me, lifting my arms over my head to pin them down with one of his. His lips cover mine again, and I bite him hard when he squeezes one of my breasts.

My hips angle so that he goes deeper, further consumed by him. There's nothing but us, the feel of him inside me, making me feel whole again, as if the earlier events were a nightmare, a product of someone else's life. Victor's lips blaze a path down my neck to my breasts as he picks up the pace, his hips driving into me now. He's in tune with my body, touching every sensitive spot as if he's memorizing exactly how to pleasure me so he will know for future moments.

"Victor, I'm…" I moan, but he only growls and pushes deeper, making my orgasm build even more.

"God, Bella. You feel so good," he groans as he stares at where our bodies connect, but his thrusts slow and he kisses me again before pulling out.

“Oh, fuck,” I whine, wishing he’d have just finished me, but he purrs against my nipple and backs down the bed.

“Not yet, love,” he whispers, laying kiss after kiss on my stomach until he has my hips arching off the bed and my hands pressing his head toward my core.

His tongue makes dark magic as he teases and laps at me, driving me higher and higher until I feel on the cusp of what feels like a million orgasms. I dig my nails into the bedding, biting my lip to staunch the screams that want to escape me, but it's no use. I groan and writhe, and he sucks me harder.

When his fingers push into me, I nearly scream. His talented mouth and fingers bring me to the brink of climax only to slow down and tease me there. He's expert at knowing when to pull back and when to push me over the edge. My body is on fire, from my head to my toes, and I don't think I can take much more.

“Victor,” I beg as he suckles on my clit, sending torrent after torrent whirling through me.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he moans against my weak bundle of nerves before sucking hard, sending me into oblivion. I climax with a scream, arching my back off the bed. The waves pulse through me, making me forget every ounce of pain, and all I can do is shudder and jolt as my fingers tangle in his hair. He licks and soothes me before coming up for air. I'm panting, my chest heaving with each ragged breath I take. I've never felt so alive or so connected to another human being.

“I… love… you,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

He crawls over me, and I wrap my legs around his hips as he slides back into me slowly.

“I love you too,” he growls before picking up the pace. “And I'll spend the rest of my life showing you just how much if you let me.”

My eyes roll back in my head as he hits the same spot that sent me over the edge just moments ago. “God, Victor, yes,” I moan, losing myself to the sensations he's giving me.

“Bella, you’re so damn perfect,” he grunts before his lips catch mine in a mind-blowing kiss. I cling to him, my nails digging into his back as we find our shared rhythm again.

“I…” I gasp, but he cuts me off with a deep kiss that steals my very breath. His thrusts are harder now, driving into me like he's trying to reach my soul. The feeling overwhelms me so much that I can't contain a scream as my orgasm rockets through me again, and I clench around him as I find my release. Victor moans and holds me tighter as he finds his own release, and I feel warmth spread inside my core.

When my body calms and the twitching subsides, Victor rolls to the side and holds me. He covers us with the blanket and presses kisses to my lips softly. He's so gentle now, I hardly believe he's the same man who came at me with a loaded weapon demanding I work for him. If only I'd have seen this side of him from the beginning.

I sigh contentedly, though I wince as I turn my back to him so he can spoon me. My eyes trace up to the easel across the room where the forged painting sits, covered in blood, holes through the canvas. I stiffen as I realize there's still unfinished business between us. As much as I want to relax and think this is a fairytale ending to a horrific circumstance, I can't just pretend I don't have his authentic Raphael tucked away in my locker at work.

"It's a sight, isn't it?" he says, kissing the back of my shoulder.

"It's destroyed…" I feign ignorance, wondering how much he knows. My mind wars with itself. I should be sending the original back to the museum the way Matthias suggested. But what if Victor isn't lying? What if the painting really does belong to his family and there are documents out there to prove it?

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