Page 26 of Brutal Crown
But my mother was the one who taught me about weakness.
“If you want to be a powerful man, never fall for a woman.”
I’d laughed, surprised that my conservative mother was suddenly talking to me about love and women.
But when she didn’t crack a smile at my amusement, I knew she was serious. She took my face in her hands, something I’dstopped her from doing because I believed I was no longer a little boy.
“Love makes men soft, Francesco. Weak. And no weak man can rule the world. Don’t forget that.”
I didn’t.
Not when she died. Not when I made my first kill. Not when I climbed up in the ranks, higher than anyone my age.
And yet here I am, burning for a girl I’m not supposed to want. A girl with the power to bring me to my knees.
I won’t let her do that. I won’t let her discover the power she has over me.
I’ll do what is right. I’ll marry Silvia happily and stay away from Lia. Duty over desire, always.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I pull off my jacket and toss it onto the bed. My body feels tight and stiff. The tension in my shoulders is unbearable. I yank my tie loose, tearing at the knot like it’s the reason everything is falling apart. My shirt hits the ground, followed by my pants.
Cold air hits my skin as I head straight for the bathroom. A cold shower is the only thing that can tame the raging desire in me right now. My head spins with the sound of her voice, her soft moans…
My chest squeezes as I remember her parting words.
Don’t kiss me if you’re going to pretend like I don’t exist tomorrow.
My jaw twitches as I enter the bathroom and step into the shower. That’s exactly what I should do. Pretend like she doesn’t exist.
I squeeze the knob hard, and I’m greeted with a downpour of freezing water. I welcome the bite. I remain still under the water for a few seconds, like it’ll rinse it all away. Her voice. Her face. The feel of her mouth on mine.
I brace a hand against the wall.
Two years. Two years since that night in her room. And now, all the hard work I put into getting her out of my head—leaving, distracting myself with work and other women—has been flushed down the drain.
I was honest when I told her that no one has ever gotten under my skin like she does. No one has ever made me feel like I’m losing the one thing that I’ve always had—control.
Except her, and she does effortlessly, without even realizing the effect she has on me.
My free hand drops to my dick. I’ve been rock hard since I felt her soft body in my hands, since I felt her palms caress my chest and rest over my pounding heart.
I shouldn’t do this; I shouldn’t let my primal desire for her keep overriding my common sense.
But I do.
The water beats against my back as I picture her on her knees before me. Not forced or shamed or broken. Just her, looking up at me like she’s hungry for me, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I picture her mouth slightly parted, her eyes hazy with arousal and longing.
A groan slips past my lips as I palm myself, imagining my cock in her mouth, stroking it against the warm walls of her throat. I feel my cock swell against my hand until it hurts, throbbing as I pump back and forth. I move slowly, trying to savor the feeling.
My forehead drops against the tiles as my fingers tighten around my cock. I hear her moans in my ear, a sound that will haunt me for years.
My eyes squeeze tightly closed as a surge of pure ecstasy pulses through me. My hand moves faster now, and I squeeze and thrust harder until I can’t control myself anymore. I let out one more grunt of pleasure before coming hard, spilling all over the marble floor.
When I finish, I sag against the shower walls, and I let the shame do what it wants to me.
I walk downto the dining table in time to meet Elio and Zia Clara having breakfast. When I approach and greet her with a kiss to the cheek, she looks up at me, surprised.
“I can’t remember the last time you had breakfast with the family,” she comments softly.
