Page 57 of Psycho

“No,” I answer in a clipped tone, but it’s the fucking truth. I never left the house.

“Good,” she breathes, “If you’re fucking me, it means you aren’t fucking anyone else. Do you understand me?”

She catches me off guard. I’ve never been a monogamous man, and I certainly have never promised to not fuck another woman, but as hard as this should be, it’s pretty fucking easy.

“I don’t want to fuck anyone else. Only you.”

It’s not a life-long commitment, but for now, it’s the truth.

Pulling the knife away from my flesh, I grab it and toss it behind me, unwilling to take the risk of her having a change of heart.

“Very brave, little lamb. The next time you press a knife to my throat, I’d advise you to slash it, because the price will be more than you can afford to pay.”

I crush my lips to hers, swallowing her soft moan, as I slide my tongue into her mouth, licking every fucking corner, unable to get enough while I move inside her. Every time I reach her ‘G’ spot, I rock back and forth, while she digs her nails into my shoulders. Pulling my hips back, I slam forward with punishing thrusts, desperate to hear more of those whimpers.

She places one hand in my hair, the other on the side of my face, and her back arches as the pleasure consumes her. My name falls from her lips in a garbled scream, and it makes me feral for her. Driving into her soaked pussy, as it squeezes my cock, I feel something I’ve never felt for a woman. Pure obsession. I’m possessed with the need to own her.

Placing both of her hands in my hair, she pulls my head down and whispers, her breath fanning my lips, “Come for me, Massimo.”

And I do, because this woman is my fucking downfall.

I hold her in my arms and rub her back, careful to avoid the tattoo. Her head is on my shoulder, her tits against my chest, and one leg draped over me. I like the way she feels, but I have to ruin this serene moment, because I need information.

“You said Carlo was from a rival family?”

Hadley lets out a long sigh, as she balls up her fist on my chest.

“Yes.”

A few years ago, I heard rumblings of Carlo Bianchi being in prison. I never found out why, because I didn’t care. The De Lucas wiped out the majority of the Bianchi line, but clearly didn’t want to go to the trouble to take care of the man in prison.

“Bianchi?” I ask, needing confirmation.

Popping her head up, I’m met with pleading eyes.

“Yes. Please don’t go asking questions, Massimo. You will get me killed.”

She’s more afraid of him than she is of me, and that I find interesting.

Rolling her over to her back, I grip her chin in my hand, forcing her to see me. Hear me.

“I will not let him hurt you. If I had known of the situation, he wouldn’t have gone to prison.”

Her eyes widen, and it causes a dark chuckle to escape from me.

“He’d be dead, Hadley.”

I fucking hate how sad her expression is, when she talks about him.

“What did he do to you?”

She closes her eyes tight as I witness the pain visibly consuming her, like a wave pulling her under.

“I told you, he was brutal. He beat me far more often than he didn’t. Choked me with a belt, until I passed out. The only thing that kept me going was Michael. Then he took him from me too.”

It’s not lost on me that she once told me I was a worse man than Carlo. I don’t say that though, because this isn’t about me.

“I swear to you, I’ll protect you. That asshole, and any of his associates, will never get close enough to touch you. Whenever you leave my home, you’ll be protected. You belong to me, little lamb, and I protect what’s mine.”

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