Page 53 of The Merciless Don's Bride

“You want me to fuck you?” I ask, voice dark and dangerous.

“Yes,” she whimpers. “What was that you called me, Mr. Italian? I prefer daddy. Please, who?” “Please… daddy.”

“Shh… be patient for Daddy.”

I lift her easily, carry her to the leather sofa in the corner, and lay her down like she’s a gift I’m about to unwrap. She watches me, biting her bottom lip as I kneel between her legs and spread her open.

Her pussy glistens in the low light. Pink. Perfect. Begging.

I slide another finger inside her and lower my mouth. The moment my tongue touches her, she shatters—screaming, writhing, grabbing for anything to ground herself.

“Not yet,” I growl, biting her inner thigh. “You don’t come until I tell you to.”

She clenches her jaw, fighting the urge. That only makes me want to break her more.

“Turn around,” I command, flipping her over and dragging her hips back until her ass is pressed to my cock.

“Don’t scream,” I warn her—and then I slam into her in one hard, punishing thrust.

She collapses under the pressure of it, her cry muffled by the cushion. But I don’t stop. I grip her hips and fuck her harder—deep, relentless strokes that make her sob my name.

She screams for more. For mercy. For release.

I slide my thumb into her mouth. “Bite down if it’s too much.”

Her teeth sink in as I pound into her again. And again.

“Do you want me to stop?” I grit out, the tension winding tight in my gut.

“You better not,” she pants, throwing a look over her shoulder that damn near finishes me.

I growl, wrap one hand around her throat, the other around her breast, and pull her upright—impaled on my cock, her back flush to my chest.

Her ass slams into my hips, her cries louder now, ragged, raw. I feel her pulse clenching around me—close.

But I’m not ready for it to end.

I pull out and drop onto the sofa, sitting back. “Ride me,bella.”

Her eyes widen. “I don’t think I can… where would it even go?”

“Sit. Now.” My voice leaves no room for argument.

She climbs onto my lap, trembling, wide-eyed. I guide her down slowly, watching her come apart inch by inch. Her breath hitches. She bites her lip. Our eyes lock.

“Open your eyes, Cassandra,” I murmur, gripping her hips. “I want you to watch me fuck you.”

She obeys—eyes wide, locked on mine. I thrust up, burying myself inside her.

“Kiss me,” I growl.

Her lips crash to mine—soft, tasting like cherries and recklessness. She kisses me like it’s the only thing tethering her to this moment.

And then I pull her all the way down onto me.

She screams.

I hold her there, deep inside her, then start to move—lifting her, slamming her back down again and again.

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