Page 17 of Ruthless God

He kissed me like he owned me. Like there would be no part of me that would ever belong to me again. They were his. His for the taking. His to do with however he liked, and I would never get them back.

I didn’t know if I wanted to be owned by a man like Massimo De Luca, yet somehow, the thought of the fall felt inevitable. Asliver of fear worked its way up my spine as he continued to kiss me, causing the pulsating to become more pronounced, causing me to feel hot all over, and making it so I couldn’t think straight.

I gripped his shoulder unconsciously, and he pulled my hands away. He then took my wrists in one hand and held them captive between us. His other hand moved around me, pressing up against my shoulder blades and pushing me closer to him.

I hummed from the move, flexing my wrists a little, but his hold was firm. There was no way for me to escape as he took control of the kiss.

He pushed me back until I hit the wall. I gasped as he pressed up against me, pulling my wrists up so they were held above my head, and I could feel him.

Could feel all of him.

He was hard.

Just from the kiss alone?

How?

He kissed me harder.

What had I started? I could have just let him go, let him give me my first kiss in front of witnesses, but this?

No one was around to stop him.

One hand reached between us and molded around my breast.

I turned away from the kiss and looked up into his dark-green eyes, not knowing what to say. He squeezed my breast once, twice, his eyes darkening further with hunger.

I didn’t stop him.

The pulse at my center grew heavy.

He bent down and kissed me once more, making me forget about everything, including my good sense. I would have let him kiss me forever, and it wouldn’t be because I was afraid of him, although…

When he pulled away, I was breathing heavily against him.

His lips were no more than a few inches away from mine, the air between us mingling.

I kept my eyes closed, so afraid to open them and see him. Afraid of what might happen next.

He pressed his thumb against my lips, which felt swollen, before he whispered, “Fuck,” and kissed me a third time, this kiss much quicker than the first but just as thrilling. A zing of electricity shot out all over my body, making my skin pulse.

“This,” he said roughly. “This is a kiss.”

He pulled away, leaving me cold and empty. I opened my eyes and took him in. Somehow, the scars on his face looked more pronounced, and his green eyes practically glowed. My fear deepened, and I crossed my arms behind my back to hide the tremor.

He took me in from head to toe.

“I’ll see you up at the altar.” His voice was nearly a growl, the command in it unmistakable. He would see me up at the altar, no matter what.

And with that, he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him. I still flinched from the click, wondering what the hell I had just done, initiating that first kiss.

Andre stoodbeside me at the entrance of the church.

This was an Italian wedding, so it could not have taken place anywhere other than a church. Most made men were…religious.

The irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

And there was just something comical about it all. As if the men and even the women in attendance really followed the teachings of the church. As if they would let a thing like spendingan eternity in hell stop them from indulging in all the vices. All the sins were in a bid to gain power and more power.

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