Page 259 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly, her legs quivering as I drove into her again and again. “Every inch of me.”
“Si, sei mio,” I growled as my heat sparked in my gut and spread like a wildfire through my veins. “You are mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to protect. Mine to love.”
“Sempre,” she cried out, eyes screwed shut as she began to shake.
Always.
I bent to seal my lips over her pulse, moving my hand to the other side so I could feel it on my tongue and my thumb. My teeth sank into the elegant column, and like a trigger on a gun, she exploded.
Her pussy spasmed around me, clenching like a wet velvet fist, drenching me in her cum. The wet slap and suck of our joining echoed in the car alongside her sweet cries.
Her heart beat a tattoo against me.
Mine, mine, mine.
I must have said the words aloud because she cried out as she climaxed, “Yours, yours, yours.”
My balls tightened almost painfully, every muscle in my body contracting around the inferno of pleasure at my center.
“Come for me,” Elena begged as I took her savagely, more beast than man. “Come inside me. I missed being filled up with your cum.”
That did it.
“Cazzo,” I cursed, my entire body clenched into one long muscle an instant before I came, spurting so hard inside her I could feel the hot splash of it against her womb. “My Lena,lottatrice,” I chanted as I spilled and spilled.
I gave her my weight, unable to hold myself up after the hugeness of my climax wrung me dry. She accepted it happily, twining me up in her limbs like a wrapped present, humming contentedly to herself as she stroked the back of my head.
“Mi sei mancata,” she told me sweetly, almost shyly.
I’ve missed you.
I braced on a hand in the seat to lever my torso off her so I could look into her face. Her features were soft, peaceful in a way they rarely were, broken up with love and pleasure to expose her fragile heart. I touched my finger to the corner of her red mouth and wondered at how lucky a man I’d become.
“Never again,” I promised once more, foolishly. “Nothing will come between us again. I will kill anyone who tries.”
“I know,” she said simply, tracing her fingers over the edge of my jaw. “I will too.”
It ached in me to know she meant that. There was nothing this fierce, loyal warrior of a woman wouldn’t do for me. Having the love of a woman like that was the greatest gift I’d ever received. There was also a perverse pleasure in knowing I could show her my darkness, and she would match it with her own.
We weren’t perfect, far from it, but that was why I thought we were meant to be. Our jagged edges met beautifully.
That night, when Elena was passed out in a sexual coma in our bed, I left the apartment with Frankie and Adriano. The RICO charges had been dropped, and I was a free man, but that didn’t mean I was going to live and let live.
Dennis O’Malley lived in a Soho brownstone on a quiet residential street. He had a security system, but Frankie made quick work of it from the car, his face lit blue by the computer screen.
Only Addie and I went to the house.
The lock on the door was pathetically easy to work open, the hinges well-oiled so it didn’t make a sound when we pushed into the house. It was late, nearly midnight, but light spilled into the hall from an open door at the back of the house.
Jaco had cased the place for us beforehand, so I knew it was Dennis’s office.
I knew how to move quietly in the shadows for a big guy, so he didn’t detect me even when I was framed in the doorway.
He sat at his desk with his head in his hands, fingers dug into his messy hair, staring blankly at his computer screen. There was a bottle of Jack and an empty glass on the tabletop beside it, the bottle nearly empty.
“Boo.”
He startled so hard, his hand swept out to knock the Jack Daniels to the floor, where it crashed and flooded the wood with booze.
