Page 84 of Hostile Secret
“And you didn’t tell your family in case they told your father?”
“The more power that man achieved, the crueler he became,” he grits out. “It’s not that they’d willingly tell him. Papá would have tortured them in the most underhanded of ways, if he knew I had something that made me weak. I wouldn’t put them in that position.”
“A weakness…” I whisper, my throat dry.
Giovanni nods slowly. Everything falls into place—the secrecy, the impersonal gothic mansion, and the angry explosion at the shooting range.
“Elias is dead now.” I point out. “Maybe you could introduce him to—”
“India…” He interrupts and bends closer, bringing vivid irises and inky pupils in line with mine. “Is my privacy going to be a problem for you?” His voice drops to a bassy rumble, a seductive timbre that reverberates through every greedy cell in my body.
“Will you do me a favor?” I gaze into his eyes, aware of my heart pumping.
His brows drift skyward. “A favor?” he muses. “This should be interesting. Let’s hear it.”
I elevate to my tiptoes and brush my lips against the side of his cheek. “Will you please trust me like I trust you? I’d never betray you, Giovanni.”
A tiny muscle in his clenched jaw ticks as I lower to my normal height again. Something indecipherable passes over his face. A look that makes me shiver.
“I haven’t had breakfast this morning,” he announces, suddenly slotting his hands under my armpits and hoisting me into the air.
The second my ass slams onto the table, he adds, “And you’re on the menu.”
25
GIOVANNI
She gasps when I shove her backward so she’s lying flat, except for her legs.
Her knees are bent and the heels of her shoes rest on the edge of the wood. It’s an ideal position to play with her.
India doesn’t hesitate, willingly lifting the hem of her short skirt when I roughly grab the flimsy lace and rip her panties clean off in a demonic urge.
My dick kicks hard against my zipper, hungry for something I can’t seem to get out of my head––her. I’ve constantly had to remind myself this rush is all about sex. Nothing else.
Whenever we’re together, there’s an unforgettable thread of desire tightening around us, and it isn’t going away.
But recently I’ve noticed a change in me, and I don’t know how to explain it or stop it from happening.
“Gio…” she murmurs when I spread her legs wide, excitement rippling through her in a shiver. “We… shouldn’t…”
She tries to lift to her elbows to watch my fingers slip inside her slick heat. A sexy groan whispers to the high ceilings, her hunger unraveling.
My knees lock, resisting the need to free my dick and destroy her with it.
I’m not programmed for tenderness and one pussy is the same as the next––or so I had thought. Though hers appears to be next level.
I want to fuck her for the rest of the morning, to stretch her insides until she’s raw from friction and cum dampens her panties all day.
But I don’t.
When I was balls deep in this tight little cunt of hers the last time, it had felt like paradise, and now I’m finding it impossible to resist. But even paradise has fault lines and if I lose my head again, she could get pregnant. Neither of us need that pressure.
When Saturday morning comes around and she’s protected by the shot the doctor gave her, my cumwillfill every single sweet hole of hers.
After a few minutes of finger fucking, I grab a fistful of cool watermelon chunks from the bowl by her head and hold them over her bare pussy.
The flesh disintegrates when I squeeze, creating a pale pink liquid that dribbles all over her wet folds. A groan rips from my throat, loving her barely audible gasp as she blinks in the scene I’m creating.
