Page 74 of Prince of Vice

"Such a good girl," he praises me, his fingers finding my nipples and tweaking them, making me gasp in pleasure. "You deserve to come for me. Let yourself go and speak freely; tell me every filthy thought on your mind."

I let loose, words spilling from my lips like a broken dam. "I love being your pet, Primo. I crave it when you fuck and degrade me. Being your needy slut is all I want, and the feeling of your cock inside me... God, it's amazing." As I scream his name, my orgasm crashes over me, waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve in my body.

He turns me around so that he can see my face as he enters me once more, my slick opening welcoming him eagerly. Glancing down, I notice the mess my arousal has made on the table. Primo follows my gaze and smirks.

"I can't wait to watch you clean that up," he says, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He turns me around again and pushes my face into the mess on the table. "In fact, clean it up while I continue to fuck you."

My tongue laps at the wetness on the table as he thrusts into me, his grip on my hips firm and unyielding. Soon enough, he spins me around again, capturing my breasts in his hands and teasing my nipples to the point of near pain.

"God, you're incredible," he groans, his thrusts becoming even more powerful than before. I'm left breathless, my body quivering with the intensity of it all. I feel another orgasm building within me, every nerve ending alight with anticipation.

"Come for me, Isabella," he commands. "I love how much you come for me. Do it once more, and then I'm going to fill your needy pussy with my seed. Your panties should always be soaked with my cum."

As I reach my peak once again, crying out his name among a litany of filthy words and desires, I feel Primo's cock pulse inside me. He presses deep, spilling his release into me, an intimate mark of ownership that leaves me feeling both sated and hungry for more of him.

Just as our breaths begin to steady, and the remnants of our orgasms still linger on my skin, a knock on the door shatters the moment. Panic floods my veins, a stark contrast to the lustful heat that had consumed me only moments ago.

"Shit," Primo hisses, hastily fumbling with his clothing as we scramble to put ourselves back together. My hands tremble as I button my blouse, trying to conceal the evidence of our reckless tryst.

"Give me a second," I call out, my voice wavering slightly. I pray that it doesn't betray the frantic pounding of my heart.

I glance at Primo, who shoots me a reassuring smile, though I can see the apprehension in his eyes. We share a brief, silent exchange, our faces flushed with a mix of desire and anxiety.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice low, his hand resting on my shoulder to steady me.

"Ready," I nod, inhaling deeply before turning the handle and opening the door.

The bailiff stands there, his stoic expression unchanged, as if he's unaware of the scandalous scene that had unfolded just beyond his reach. "The jury has reached a verdict," he announces, his words slicing through the tension like a knife.

"Thank you," I reply, trying to sound composed despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. My mind races, shifting from the passionate encounter with Primo to the potential consequences of the trial. What if they find him guilty? Will this be the last time I can feel his touch, taste his lips?

"Isabella," Primo whispers, his fingertips grazing my arm. "You did everything you could. No matter what happens, remember that."

His words ground me, anchoring me to the present. I force a small smile, even as fear twists in my stomach like a viper. We step out of the conference room, side by side, preparing to face the verdict that will change both our lives forever.

"Ready?" he asks once more, his warm gaze meeting mine.

"Ready," I repeat, taking a deep breath. Together, we walk into the courtroom, hand in hand, ready for whatever fate has in store for us.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Primo

As Isabella and I return to the courtroom, escorted by the stern-faced bailiff, the comforting cocoon of our recent rendezvous has been torn away. My heart races beneath my carefully composed facade. Our family's power has waned, and I know that if I'm truly convicted, it's very likely I'll be killed before I ever see the inside of a prison cell.

As we step inside the courtroom, I watch the jurors file in, each one more ordinary than the next. Their faces betray nothing as they take their seats—twelve people who hold my fate in their hands. I take a deep breath, sending up a silent prayer for strength. No matter what happens, I'm grateful that Isabella is standing beside me for this.

"Order in the court," the bailiff calls out, and the room falls silent. The tension is palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on every soul present.

The foreman of the jury rises, solemn and stoic, handing a folded paper to the bailiff. It's passed to Judge Dolan, whose leathery face remains impassive as he opens it with deliberate slowness. My heart hammers in my chest, completely at odds with the measured pace of the unfolding scene.

"In the matter of Commonwealth of Massachusetts v. Maldonado," Judge Dolan reads, his voice gravelly, "we the jury find the defendant not guilty of murder in the first degree."

I blink, unable to process the words. The courtroom erupts into a cacophony of noise, a tempest of emotion swirling around me as some scream in outrage while others celebrate. Isabella leaps into my arms, her beautiful body pressing against mine as she wraps her arms around me. I catch her, the disbelief still fogging my mind.

"We did it! We did it, Primo!" she cries, a cascade of joyous tears streaming down her face. Her eyes meet mine, filled with elation and relief.

My heart races as Isabella clings to me, her breath hot and sweet on my neck. I savor the warmth of her embrace, feeling her strong arms tighten around me. With a reluctant sigh, I turn to survey the room, our bodies still entwined.

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