Page 37 of Power
“What?”
“What you’re thinking right now. Don’t filter it or PG it. Give it to me straight. What are you thinking about?”
She hesitates. When her voice returns, it’s laced with frustration and arousal. “I want to suck your cock and take you in my throat until I gag. I want to have you come in my mouth and all over my tits.”
Loosening her enough to admit this makes me feel almost untouchable. “You know what I want right now? To fuck you so hard in public that everyone hears how loudly I can make you crumble.”
I’m stroking my cock through my pants as we talk, convinced I’m too obsessed with her to think about anyone else.
“Dario,” she whispers, and I lose control.
“Fuck! I can't wait to get back home to you, Vittoria.”
“Me too.”
When I hang up, I’m so turned on it practically hurts, but I ride it out. In a few hours, I’ll be home to her, thrusting deep inside her until morning comes. Owning her. Claiming her as mine for everyone to see.
By the time the plane touches down in Chicago, I’m strung so fucking tight I can barely think. Every second away from her has been a test of patience I don’t have. The need to be inside her, to feel her, to claim what’s mine—it’s a raw, burning thing under my skin.
I don’t stop for anything. Not the greetings, not the updates waiting for me. My focus is singular. Her.
When I get home, there’s this gnawing feeling in my gut, like something’s wrong. I ignore it at first. I make my way upstairs, every step louder than the last, until I’m standing in front of her room.
The door’s ajar and that’s when I hear it. The sickening sound of a slap.
I don’t stop to think. My fist is already swinging the door open before the next thought even forms in my head.
And there he is. One of my guys—Tomas, I think—his hand raised, and her cheek turned red from the impact. She doesn’t even have time to react before I’m moving.
Before she can even scream, I’m on him. I grab Tomas by the neck, twist, and shove him hard against the wall. He gasps, eyes wide with shock. Doesn't even see it coming. Doesn't deserve to.
I don’t demand an explanation. There’s no second chances in this world, and there’s no mercy when it comes to her.
Without a second thought, I pull my knife from its sheath and slam it into his stomach. He lets out a garbled noise, and before he can process what’s happening, I do it again.
And again.
And again.
The blood splatters. I don’t care.
The only thing I hear is the wet, sickening sound of steel meeting flesh. The way his breath shudders, his body convulsing as I rip the blade through him. I feel nothing but the absolute certainty that this man was dead the second he laid a hand on her.
A scream shatters through the room and something inside me twists. I should be feeling regret. I should feel something like guilt, but I don’t. All I feel is rage. All I feel is the need to make sure Tomas never gets up again, and I drive the knife in one last time, deep into his ribs, and watch the life drain from his eyes.
"Dario, stop!" Vittoria's voice, frantic and horrified, breaks through my fury.
When he goes still, I take a breath, finally, and step back.
I let him crumple to the floor, my own breath coming hard and fast. Blood drips from my knife and is splattered across my shirt, my hands, the floor—her bedroom floor.
I step back and lift my chin to the men outside. "Get the body out of here." My voice is steady, unaffected. I don’t give a fuck who he was to me before this. He’s nothing now.
They move quickly and drag the lifeless body out the door, leaving me alone with her.
Vittoria is pressed against the wall with her eyes blown wide with something I can’t name. Fear. Disgust. Maybe both.
I reach for her.
