Page 38 of Psycho

“Massimo,” she says in a breathy moan, as she digs her nails into the skull tattoo on my chest.

So fucking beautiful. She lies on the grass underneath me, with her dark hair splayed around her, eyes wide with lust, and lips parted with heavy breaths. How can my enemy look so fucking perfect like this?

Her eyes roll back into her head, and her back arches off the ground, as a strangled scream comes from her throat. Jesus Christ, this woman does things no woman should be capable of. My head screams at me, ‘she should be dead’.

Leaning over her, a hand on either side of her, I continue fucking her, dragging my pelvis over her clit with every thrust, and I’m rewarded with a sweet mewling sound from her slender throat.

“Massimo,” she cries out, and the familiarity sends shivers down my spine. I stare into her eyes, and her pussy squeezes my length again, taking my orgasm, and my thoughts, from me.

I grunt out my pleasure as I fill her with my cum, and she hums her appreciation, knocking me off kilter once again. Do I want to kill her? I don’t. Not really, but she can’t know that. There’s some confused part of me that wants to protect her, and I don’t know why. That’s not an option. Black and white, I remind myself. She came after us, and has to be punished. Knowing damn well it won’t only be her that suffers doesn’t change a goddamn thing.

My head tells me to take her back inside, and lock her in the room again. Space. We need a lot of it, because she’s fucking with me. Confusing me. Making me see her as more than my goddamn enemy. She can’t ever be anything other than that.

Black and white,I remind myself, for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

Opening my mouth to speak, my mouth defies my brain.

“Let’s get some lunch. We’ll eat on the patio.”

I help her up, and stare at the blush forming on her cheeks, with the slight lift of her lips, as I tuck myself back inside my pants.

“Thank you,” she says, with a soft sweetness that makes me rub at the ache in my chest.

She walks over, grabs her panties off the ground, and pulls them on under her dress. I don’t take my eyes off her. I can’t. Anastasia is too fucking beautiful. Gorgeous in an almost painful way. It’s not a good thing. Instead, it causes the fury to travel through my veins, and makes me want to hurt her. Really fucking hurt her.

I grab her arm, pull her through the garden, and around to the other side of the house, where the patio is.

“You’re hurting me,” she complains, while trying to get out of my grip.

Nodding to the chair, I order her, “Sit.”

She places her hands on her hips, and tilts her head at me in annoyance. Her gaze is full of anger, pulling me in, trapping me in place. Anastasia is not the one with no escape. I am. If I don’t do something drastic to alter this course, I’m going to live to see my own goddamn ending.

Pretty little ruiner,I think to myself.

My gaze travels the length of her body, taking in every soft curve, as my cock swells in my pants, wanting her again already. Snapping my eyes back to her face, I swallow hard, as I meet her eyes again.

“Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”

Anastasia takes a seat at the black, wrought- iron table with a heavy sigh. I know she’s wondering why I have to be such an asshole, but I have my reasons. It’s the only way.

My chef comes to the table and takes our order. She orders parmesan chicken, and I choose seared scallops with a pomegranate glaze. Oscar brings us both a glass of white wine, and I watch her as she sips it.

“Mmm.”

I palm my face as I try to control the twitching in my pants.

The sweet smile on her full lips does nothing to talk my cock down.

“Thank you for this, Massimo.”

I shrug my shoulders. “It’s just lunch.”

She shakes her head in disagreement, as she reaches across the table and rakes her nails along the inside of my forearm.

Fuck.

“It’s not just anything. Thank you.”

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