Page 98 of Unholy Union
A grin that’s taunting and cruel spreads across his face, a few strands of hair in his eyes.
“You should know by now, Sabrina. There’s no escaping me.”
His office fills with my enraged screams, each one ignored. Cato lifts my feet off the ground and carries me across the room.
Because we’re facing each other this time, I shove at his shoulders and push back against him. Not that it’ll do anything—he’s solid muscle, and the harder I push back, the more it seems to make him eager to punish me.
The more it seems to drive up the animosity between us. The more charged the air becomes.
As I go for another shove at his shoulder, he catches my wrist. His long fingers so easily circle it, even as he has the rest of me trapped in his arms.
Then he wrenches my mouth to kiss. I’m given no time to consider what he’s doing.
His mouth crushes against mine, kissing me hard. It’s a kiss of pure ownership, his tongue parting my lips.
But I still don’t give in easily, jerking back, trying to rip my mouth away.
Cato allows for none of it.
He kisses me deeper, asserting that everything he’s said is true. I belong to him and only him.
The thought makes me vibrate with more fury. Then, as his warm tongue massages mine, I’m vibrating from lust.
I push myself against his chest and card my fingers through his dark hair. My tongue strokes back against his like we’re dueling all over again.
Cato said it himself—this has become our foreplay.
Every kiss feels like punishment. Every moan, a confession. Yet as he carries me toward the desk and drops me onto the smooth wooden surface, I can’t get enough. I can’t even pretend it’s not what I want anymore.
The truth is, I crave whatever this is that’s formed between us.
Every brutal low and every thrilling high. Each moment where the lines blur and we lose ourselves to carnal desire.
Cato’s hands canvas my body as he kisses me deep. His tongue plunders my mouth while his hands grope and fondle my curves.
My nightgown has ridden up, and I’ve spread my legs. I’m flushed with heat as he squeezes my breasts then pinches at one of my nipples.
Sharp pain twinges through my breast but it still makes me moan.
I lean into his touch, practically begging for more, my heart beating frantically. He’s moved on from kissing my mouth to leaving kisses on my jaw, then throat. His hands have slid down my body, disappearing under my nightgown.
A deep shudder racks through me as he touches my bare thighs. As his palms skim the inside of my thighs and get closer to my achy pussy.
He goes still when his fingers reach the sensitive, slick folds and finds no barrier in between.
“No panties, principessa?” he asks, drawing back slightly.
I shake my head. “I was getting ready for bed.”
“And then you came here to gather intel from your husband,” he says. He’s slid his fingers into my curls, bringing my mouth back to his for a kiss. “And to stop him from being poisoned. Which brings us to the matter at hand, doesn’t it?”
I blink dazedly, so wide-eyed and aroused I can barely form a thought.
That’s when I realize what he was doing—he was playing me, working me up ’til I was so turned on that he could toy with me like this.
He steps back from the desk, a satisfied smirk forming on his mouth, and then takes his seat in his executive-sized chair. Immediately he looks as regal and dominant as always.
The heir to a mafia dynasty sitting in his proverbial throne.
