Page 124 of The Serpent's Bride
"Please what?" I snarled, my hips snapping against hers. "Please stop? Or please don't ever stop?"
She didn't answer, her breath coming in ragged pants, her body a taut bowstring of pleasure and pain. I could feel her nearing her peak, her inner walls fluttering around me, her body tensing in anticipation. I reached between us, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight, deliberate circles.
"Come for me, Chiara," I commanded, my voice harsh. "Come all over my cock."
That was all it took. With a piercing cry, she shattered, her body convulsing, her inner walls clamping down on me like a vise. The sight of her, lost in the throes of her orgasm, her face a mask of ecstasy, was my undoing.
With a final, brutal thrust, I buried myself deep inside her, my own release tearing through me, hot and endless. I spilled myself into her, marking her from the inside out, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
"Take it all," I hissed. "Take my seed. Fucking take it all inside you."
Deep down, I knew I wanted it to take. I wanted to see her belly swell with my child, a living, breathing proof of my possession. A tiny life that would forever tie her to me, a beautiful, inescapable chain.
And it had nothing to do with my father’s will, and everything to do with my beautiful wife.
I grabbed her by the chin, not willing to pull out yet. Chiara’s hazy eyes locked onto mine, whimpering little moans escaping her lips.
“Now,” I said sternly. “I want you to put your legs up on the headboard. I’m going to make sure every single drop of my cum ends up inside you. I’m going to destroy you from the inside out, baby. And you’ll never want anything else.”
Chapter Twenty-One: CHIARA
Thepenthousewastooquiet without Leo in it. I hated that I noticed.
The silence wrapped around me as I stood in front of the massive bathroom mirror fastening an earring with slightly trembling fingers. Pale morning light spilled through the marble-and-glass space, catching against gold fixtures and black stone counters polished so perfectly they reflected me back in cruel detail.
I barely recognized the girl staring back anymore. My hair was down now. Always down.
Leo had made that change so naturally it frightened me. One night of his fingers carefully undoing my braid, one low command in that dark voice, and I couldn’t stand putting it back up again.
It felt too tight. Too much like Papa. Too much like the old version of me. I shouldn’t have been changing for him. And yet I was.
My fingertips drifted unconsciously toward my throat, where faint bruises still lingered beneath my silk robe. My entire bodyheated remembering his mouth there. The way he touched me now felt burned into my skin permanently, like I carried him around even when he wasn’t there.
That was the real danger of Leo Moretti. Not the violence. Not the threats. Not even the lies. It was how easily he made me forget I was supposed to hate him. My stomach twisted. Because for the last two days, every thought inside my head had become about him.
The way he looked holding Sienna. The way he watched me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. The terrifying tenderness that appeared sometimes before vanishing again behind possession and control.
And worst of all? The way he touched me. Heat flooded my face. God. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way his hands gripped my waist. The roughness in his voice when he talked about putting babies in me. The dark hungry look in his eyes every time he mentioned breeding me like the thought consumed him completely.
A humiliating ache curled low in my stomach. I pressed my palms hard against the marble counter.
No. No, I would not become one of those pathetic women who fell in love with powerful men just because they were obsessed with them.
Leo didn’t love me. He wanted an heir. That was all.
The memory of Angelo’s voice slithered back through my mind. He only married you because he needed a baby. My chest tightened painfully.
Everything made sense now. The possessiveness. The obsession with getting me pregnant. The way Leo talked about children like he’d already decided my body belonged to him.
I wasn’t special. I was useful. The thought hurt far more than it should have.
Angrily, I turned away from the mirror and crossed the bedroom, trying to outrun the sinking feeling in my chest. I yanked open a drawer searching for absolutely nothing when my fingers brushed something stiff tucked beneath a silk scarf.
I froze. The black key card Angelo had given me in secret. For a second, I just stared at it.
The memory rushed back, his mocking smile at the wedding, the way he leaned too close when he spoke, his low poisonous voice telling me Leo only wanted me for my womb.
A way out. That was what Angelo promised me. My fingers tightened around the card. I should have thrown it away. Instead, I turned it over slowly. A phone number was written neatly across the back. My pulse stumbled. The hotel.
